Eeevil!

Every morning for the past six years, my boys have woken me up with either loud screaming or spastic kicking. Sometimes both. I've gotten used to it by now, so when I woke up this morning to only Angie's snoring, I freaked out. I raced into their bedroom to confirm that they had been kidnapped and found Peter and David playing cars with Tom. What the huh?

'Hey, have you guys raided the medicine cabinet again?'

'Oh, hi Papa! Watch this!'

Peter then ran up and snatched a car from the big pile in front of Tommy's feet. Tom immediately squinted his eyes, gritted his teeth and charged Peter and David. When he started beating them with his car-clenched fists and grunting like a wild boar, Peter and David completely lost it. What the huh?

They laughed their asses off as I contemplated my options. On the one hand, it was pretty funny. I just wasn't sure if it was wise to actually be training Temper Tom to beat people. That might sound all 'fatherly' to you, but I was actually just worried that he might kick my ass next. I was about to break it up when Tom scowled, pointed and started gutturally growling his new word at me.

'Eeevil!'

That's just great - he can't even pronounce his own freakin' name yet, but they are teaching him to curse people. I turned to Peter and David to yell at them, but they were busy lying on the floor and clutching their bellies. Whatever.

'Hey, Angie - is that coffee done yet?'

'I don't know - are you done making it?'

'Eeevil!'

'What?!'

'Eeevil!'

As per usual, Angie ignored my guttural requests for her to do anything in the kitchen. That's okay, though; I haven't serviced the fire extinguishers lately. Besides, boiling water and pouring it might sound relatively safe, but so did tossing a salad.

After exorcising a pot of evil, we took the demons over to Dalia's for her baby sister's baptism bash.

I don't know what's funnier - that Brian is wearing a suit or that Elina is completely distracted by David, who is just off camera and making faces at the recently baptized. Before I could decide, my mental happy hour bell rang and I forced Tommy to open up the bar.

After a happy hour of boozing it up, the kids moved on to jealousy hour. This involved pushing, shoving, and pulling. Not surprisingly, a female was to blame.

'It's my turn to push.'

'Nice try, Peter - back up!'

Peter took the last command a little too literally and face planted Lenny in the dirt, with his back up. Lenny returned the favor with a command that I like to call 'elbow smack' before we decided to move the trio inside to play with the strange kid.

'Mommy, why is that little boy poking that doll in the eyes?'

'Eeevil!'

'I don't know, sweetie. Just go back out to the swings.'

It was about that time that we rounded up the Zoo Crew and decided to head back to the cages. On the ride home, the car's funk-o-meter started pinging away, so I informed Pig Pen, Hog Sty and Mes Sy that we would be hosing them down. As soon as we got home, though, the filthy beasts disappeared.

Considering how cluttered our apartment normally is, this was actually pretty good camouflaging. Had it not been for Tommy's muffled screeching, the boys could have probably camped out in their cave for weeks before we would have discovered them.

After hosing the bugs down, David flashed me his money.


His money was found a few days ago in the garden. After checking with the neighbors, my wallet, and Angie's purse, we decided that it was his to keep. And keep it he has. He sleeps with it, he eats with it, and after tonight, we know that he also bathes with it. If it were a pet leech, I'd probably put my foot down on the whole 'bathing' part of his monetary bonding.

After swimming in money, I told Daddy Warbucks it was time to march his rich ass to bed.


David does occasionally follow directions, but he normally twists them to fit his own warped interpretation. Tonight was no exception as he made his way down the hallway. I am quite sure that the neighbors, along with Tom, thoroughly enjoyed David's mile in my shoes, but cruel Papa put an early end to his little bed stomp. Tom was less than delighted, so his good night kiss to me seemed more like a curse.

'Eeevil!'
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played animals with Dalia.
David: When we go to Dalia's.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I almost broke your glasses 'cause I bounced on the bed and got you in the face.
David: When I not more can play.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: Play with Dalia.
David: Play with Dalia 'cause she my girlfriend and I are her boyfriend.

Clowns gone wild

I've often wondered why so many people develop clown phobias. At Dalia's birthday party, I began to understand. At least Brian and Clarice didn't hire any clowns to frighten the children. No, they managed that one all on their own.

I don't know what scared me more - that Brian had a talking duck attached to his hand or that Ronald McDonald was carving the birthday cake with a butcher's knife. Look at that grin!

Somehow, the kids were completely oblivious to perilous mayhem that surrounded them. I just don't get it, though. That duck was so obviously evil. First of all, Patinjo was able to imitate Brian's voice perfectly. Seriously, I could not tell a difference. It was eerie and yes, it creeped me out. If Brian had started quacking at that point, I probably would've grabbed my kids and run like hell.

The second spooky-weird warning sign for me was when that duck kept diving into a bunch balloons and producing birthday gifts for Dalia. What the huh? I mean, come on - the whole playpen was full of balloons and this possessed bird just kept pulling out one gift after another. Explain that one, Batman.

Batman didn't explain jack, but the Penguin was on site and apparently ready to party like a rockstar.

Like most rockstars, the Penguin had a few odd quirks. At first, I didn't understand why he was drifting through the crowd handing out party horns. It didn't really hit me until I went upstairs to the party room, where the kids were listening to reggae.

I was shocked, but after a few moments in the party room, everything somehow seemed funny. Dalia had apparently not spent enough time in the party room, though.

'David! I said no! Stop popping the balloons!'

What Dalia does not understand is that David's brain translates the word 'no' as 'do it one more time'. If the word 'no' is accompanied by screaming, yelling, or crying, his gray matter instructs him to do whatever he is doing as many times as he can before someone yanks his ear. Unfortunately, Dalia does not know the 'ear trick'.

I finally made my way over and found the source for both the commotion and my subsequent laughter.

I didn't realize that all of the balloons were filled with confetti. None of the normal kids did, either. Destructo Dave somehow figured that out all on his own and simply ignored the birthday girl's pleas for him to stop until he had popped the very last balloon, featured here. Happy Birthday, sweetie!
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: Oh, come on Papa, you know - it was Dalia's birthday!
David: When I by the party make a funny and then I laugh, ha-ha!

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I can't not by the party stay all the night.
David: To come home with you.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: Go to Dalia again and maybe be a princess, too.
David: To make Tommy laugh 'cause he a baby.

Blade Runners

I'm so freakin' smart that sometimes my nose actually starts to bleed. When Angie told me this morning to 'take the monsters and get the HELL out of my house', I hatched the perfect plan - ice-skating! I didn't quite understand why my nose didn't immediately start gushing, but Mommy Dearest was searching for coat hangers, so we got the hell out of there. As requested.

I was actually not aware that there are places open on Sundays other than pubs, but hey - live and learn. Brian was the teacher for today's lesson. He called this morning and suggested going to 'The Ice Rink'. I thought it was an odd name for a pub, but whatever; Angie was on her Sunday rampage and suddenly frosty beer sounded mighty tasty. I'm in.

We got to the rink and, aside from my initial disappointment for completely non-alcoholic reasons, we were confronted by a long line of other dads who had apparently been chased out of their caves. After spending almost an hour getting into the damn place and waiting in line for skates and Kevlar helmets, the kids were tuckered out and wanted a break. What? We haven't even gone on the ice yet, you lazy-asses!

I actually think they were just being chicken shits because a) they've never gone ice-skating and b) as we approached the rink, a 30-year-old man did the most awesome and incredibly painful face-plant right in front of the kids. Come on, guys - this is gonna be FUN!

Even David, who completely cracked up at the poor injured man, shook his head and pointed to the bleachers. Brian and I quickly realized that we would not make it on the ice without a little liquid courage. It was also my first time ice-skating and after watching Mr. Nose Dive, it did not take a lot of arm twisting to pound a few drinks.

In hindsight, we probably shouldn't have let them drink so much. Of course, that's pretty much the advice my liver gives me on any given Sunday, so I could hardly blame the caffeinated crew for ignoring us as they gulped two Cokes and a Fanta in preparation for kissing ice.

Dalia and Brian have skated before, a tid-bit of useful information that was conveniently left out during the planning discussions for today's fun outing. When we finally did get on the ice, we watched as Brian and Dalia gracefully skated away. That doesn't look that hard.

What was hard was the cold ice floor that my ass slammed down upon mere seconds after pulling away from the gate. Peter would have laughed, but he was too busy holding on to me until his ass found a nice and not-so-cozy spot next to mine. David, who is normally far from being the sensible one, shook his head again and explained to me 'I are not big enough, Papa. I go now sit down, okay?'.

It was about that point that I realized what a colossally stupid idea it was to try and teach a three and five-year old how to ice skate on my first ever escapade. Instead, I joined Davey on the bleachers and delegated the father-son bonding to Brian.

In the end, this actually turned out to be more fun, at least for me and David. We had a ball cracking up at Peter's repeated attempts to bring down Mr. 'ooh-look-at-me-I-can-skate'. Peter continued to weaken Brian and after about an hour, Peter finally succeeded in dragging Broke-back Brian down.

David's cheers for an encore were ignored. Maybe the preceding five minutes of laughter and finger pointing played a role in the subsequent curtain-call on our Sunday matinee.

I came home to find that Tommy had taken a power nap for, uh, pretty much all day. Judging by Angie's bed head, I deduced that Tom was not the only one who had snoozed away Sunday. Peter and David racked out in no time at all, but Tom...well, he wasn't so sleepy.

Tom started to charge me, so I of course grabbed my camera. This was actually a three-picture sequence, but the last shot got a little blurry when Tom jumped on me and started beating me in the face and neck with a wooden sword. It must have been a damn good idea, though, because soon after the father-son smackdown, my nose started bleeding. Thanks, Temper Tom!
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I go ice-skating with my Dalia.
David: To go skating on the ice.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I couldn't play with Dalia more because we go from the ice place.
David: When I cannot have a C.D. because it is too late.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: I want to play with these skates.
David: To play with Peter.

One of these kids is...not like the others

When I was still a tiny bastard, I had to babysit my little sister one time. In her usual infantile brilliance, she decided to climb to the top of our couch and just hang out. At one point, I heard grunting noises and looked over to see Vena had somehow managed to wedge her butt in a small gap between the wall and the sofa, thanks to a wall-mounted radiator. Seeing her arms and legs flailing about, I started cracking up. Her grunting soon turned into full-on screaming and that's when it hit me. Get the camera!

Today was Tom's first sled ride, so I thought he would be thrilled to share this moment with his idols. It was also my first sled ride, so I wasn't sure what to expect. When I heard grunting noises, though, my instincts kicked in and I grabbed the camera. Man, other people's misery is funny, isn't it?

Ah, Tom didn't think so. In fact, he continued screaming his head off for the next hour as PeDalia and BriDave raced up and down the hill.

For some people, it just takes time watching crazy people do crazy things before they build up the courage to try it themselves. That certainly explains how and why I got married. After an hour of spectating from the sidelines, I picked up signals that Tom was ready for his virgin slide.

I must repeat - I had never gone sledding either, so I asked Brian for the gist of it.

'Point your sled, push off, brake with your feet.'

Holy thanks, Explanatory-man! I followed these detailed words of 'wisdom' and yes - there is a reason that I used quotes. I pointed, I pushed. Above the wind roaring in my ears, I could hear Tom giggling away. Great. So far.

At the bottom of the hill, I followed Master's directions and dug both feet into the ground. Suddenly, ploughs of snow were flying past me and we stopped. Cool!

Uh, not cool. Tom didn't start screaming right away, but only because he was busy choking on a mouthful of snow. I dismounted the sled and soon saw the source of Tom's silent screams. He looked like an extremely pissed off skunk, actually. He had a white streak of snow and ice going from his toes to his hair thanks to Brian's sure-fire way of braking.

As funny as other people's misery can be, I could not bring myself to leave Tom screaming to run off to get the camera. I know, I know - with Vena, I did exactly that, but she's only a sibling. You're supposed to do mean things to your kinfolk - just ask Christine. She almost broke my damn nose one time showing me her new karate trick that 'won't hurt at all, I promise'.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't contemplate the whole camera thing, but asides from just being too cruel, there were witnesses. Instead, I scooped the snow out of Tom's mouth, nose, and ears, and took him to our car. After twenty minutes of warm air mixed with carbon monoxide, we were ready to hit the slope again.

We, in this case, turned out to exclude Tom, who freaked right the freak out when I opened the door and he caught a glimpse of snow. Boy, this is going to be a fun winter.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: As I played with Artin snow balls and then went riding hills with Dalia.
David: Snow balls and POW! I got you.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I couldn't play more with Artin 'cause I needed to go have fun with Dalia.
David: When I can't not play more with Dalia, okay?

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Artin.
David: To play with Peter like I are a cow, okay?

Break out the bubbly

Christmas day is normally when kids get to break all of their new toys. I guess Barbara the bubble hog decided that it was her turn to play with David's new gun all morning. Destructo Dave is not one to be easily thwarted and eventually resorted to using his bare hands to destroy the evil bubbles.

After hours of listening to David scream 'pleeeeeaaaase, Barbara' and 'give it back, it's mine', I stopped laughing and went inside. The boys finally came in, too, and Grams put them straight to work.

Thanks to Barbubble, David was still bawling his eyes out when he helped Grams, in case anyone wants to know why the stuffing was so moist this year. Mmmm, nothing beats the taste of tear-soaked bread cubes baked in the cavity of a dead animal.

Tom is still at that age where he learns a new trick almost every day. Today, he amazed us with how he could walk through glass doors.

You would think that after two or ten times of smashing his head on glass, he would eventually realize that there was a reason his forehead was hurting and maybe, I don't know, stop. Not Tom, though - that boy has got determination. Kinda like Mama, only I use a different word.

After an hour of head banging, even Ozzy Osbourne needs to sit down for a while and either giggle or eat a bat.

Tommy didn't chow down on a flying rodent, but he did find Opa and Barb's 'Thirsty & Hungry' show to be quite amusing. Can you guess which one is thirsty?

That's right, it's Bubbalina! I guess this morning's traumatic bubble hoarding wasn't enough to tickle her nose. I'm sorry, but that's where I draw the line. Making the kids cry - fine. Funny, even, if Angie's not around, but bogarting the Cristal? Come on.

Dinner was excellent, especially the stuffing. Thanks, David. Thanks, Barb.

Between Christmas and New Year's, we stayed with the theme of stuffing our faces and invited Sami and Kika over to make us Raclette.

Angie had threatened death warrants if they didn't bring enough food, so we ended up with enough cheese to choke Wisconsin. My bowels hate you.

After dinner, drinks were to be had by all, even little kids with big mouths.

I was a little worried about Lauri's obvious drinking problem, but when he got behind the wheel of the bucket, I really got concerned. I even sent Tom in to talk some nonsense into him.

After drunken baby demolition derby, we exchanged Christmas gifts. David loves puzzles and got a really cool one from Kika. It was a kick-ass 3-D globe, but unfortunately, Mama took it away from David mere seconds after he opened it.

In David's defense, he did try several times to rationalize with Mama.

'Mama, I are a big boy - I make this puzzle, now - okay?'
'Honey, don't touch. You'll break what we have so far.'

'Mama - I do it now, okay?'
'Stop grabbing, okay - it's almost done!'

'But dat is mine, Mama. Kika gave me it. Not you.'

'Listen! It's not that easy! Anyway, the box says 6+, so just go play in your room while I build this.'

I guess the whole 'stealing toys from children' runs in the family. At least nobody tried getting in the way of Tommy's 'Battle Horse Royale'.

After taming the Horse Screamer, Sebastian stopped by for a round of Birthday Poker.

I'm just glad he did not break out his birthday suit. Happy Birthday, buddy!

During the winter break, our TV broke. It's okay - I can talk about it now. At least it was good timing. What, with the kids being home all day with nothing to do - who needs the TV? Let me answer that quite clearly. Me.

Luckily, Opa is like that guy in prison who can get you anything. He knew a guy who knew a guy who likes watching TV - the next thing we knew, our TV was ready to be picked up.

I broke the law and let Peter ride shotgun. That's nothing, though. If you look across the street, you'll see Destructo Dave in the driver seat of Opa's not-so-Smart. He's not even wearing a seat belt, but my precious was bubble-wrapped and safe in the back seat, so all was well in my car.

When we got back to the house, Brian and Dalia had showed up to pick up their Christmas gifts. Whatever, Brian - outta the way, man, you're blocking the TV. Mama Meanie intervened and turned off my precious, mumbling something about being social. Whatever, Ms. Manners, shouldn't your Face be in a Book somewhere being all 'social' and stuff?

In the end, giving Brian their gifts turned out to be rather entertaining.

See, Brian and Clarice are obviously trying to catch up with us and gave Dalia a shiny new sister for Christmas - Elina. Angie thought that it would be cool to give Elina a 'hand print kit'. We had gotten one when Peter was just a little critter and thought it was cute. So cute, in fact, that Angie had immediately stuffed it back in the box after taking Peter's handprint and carving his name in it.

This box has been sitting on the shelf collecting dust for the past five years. At some point, Angie had gotten another one, almost exactly the same, which she put on the shelf as well. Not being one to think, Angie forgot to check the contents before wrapping, which resulted in Brian's puzzled look as he opened the used clay hand print with 'Peter' sketched into it. Um, thanks - I'm sure that, uh...Elina will, you know...love it.

On that note, I had to leave the house. I went shopping, which is kinda like another manly task that I routinely volunteer for - cooking. Before you label me, consider these two facts - I go shopping alone and as the cook, I am the only human allowed in the kitchen.

While I was out enjoying the sweet solitude of groceries, Angie was obviously not paying attention to our children at all. I have to say - I'm not surprised. At some point, Angie ran a bath. I can only assume that she was busy CrackBooking when Tommy made his move.

Either my boots stink or Tommy wanted to do his own sink or drown experiment. Probably both, but in addition to limes, potatoes, and raisins - Dr. Martens do not float. I was quick to point out that little babies don't float, either, but Mama jumped in with comments like 'not funny' and 'you're so hot'.

Speaking of not-so-funny-looking hotties, check out the Principessa. Nice tongue.

In addition to wit, temper, and homemade Limoncello, Sarah brought a lentil soup to kick off our New Year's eve bash. It was delish, but our boys are already fully capable of producing smells, thank you very much. I really don't think they need any encouraging bean products, even if they are good for the heart.

After dinner, the kids decided to make bursting noises of a different smell.

These indoor poppers are harmless, unless you ask poor little petrified Chiara. Man, check out that scream!

To calm things down a bit, Angie showed the kids how to use a crack spoon.

Somehow, my jokes about CrackBook aren't so funny now. She tried defending herself with some bullshit story about the tradition of melting metal figures and dumping them in water to predict fortunes in your future. Whatever, Marion Barry. Denial is always the first stage, and she was probably too high on liquid smack to realize that the kids had already moved on to setting things on fire.

Angie is a pro when it comes to burning shit, so she was completely in her element. Tom has been breaking a lot of things lately and his fascination with fire only further signalled that he will probably follow in David's muddy, disgusting, stinky footprints, rather than Peter's, who was busy comforting our cat.

Gizma is 17 years old and has not been doing so well, lately. She very recently lost her sight and only eats if we hand feed her shaved turkey. We do, by the way, so don't freak out and call PETA on us.

All in all, she is dealing with blindness rather well. She has the layout of the zoo in her memory and can still make her way about. Her excellent sense of smell and David and Tom's funkiness alert her of potential threats and so far, she still manages to escape. When the fireworks started, though, she completely lost it.

Gizma's favorite hiding spot is under our stove. When the firecrackers started popping shortly before midnight, she was on the sofa in the living room. In a blind panic, she jumped down and tried headbutting her way through our living room door. David has tried this, too, but for completely different reasons. At least Peter was there to pet her and lead her to the kitchen.

At midnight, we dragged the other animals to the streets to witness and enjoy the New Year's display.

Tom was being a baby and just fell asleep. Peter had seen fireworks before and was impressed, but not awed. For David, though, it was a whole new experience. I looked down and actually recognized a look that very rarely falls across his face: fear.

'Davey, come here. Are you scared?'

Without hesitation, David climbed up into my arms and whispered in my ear.

'I'm scared. But I like it.'

Without realizing it, he accurately described how I feel about my little babies growing up so damn fast.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I saw the fireworks.
David: When the explode spook everywhere and from there up in the sky phfkew, pang, boom!
2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That it was too loud.
David: When I can't not there down forever play with the fire crackers.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To give you tomorrow a gift.
David: To play with Peter animals and then I make pang, boom and fire on them in the sky!

Would you like catch-up with your blog?

[Author warning: this is the longest blog ever written]

So, yeah. The road trip is finally over. We got back home and somehow Angie completely forgot that Jen had volunteered our free home and board to these two homeless weirdos from New York the next day. At least Lisa and Susan talked funny; I'm a sucker for funny accents and I love weirdos. I even marry them, sometimes.

Don't get me wrong, the road trip was nice, in a 'I hated every waking moment of it' kind of way. Susan and Lisa's three day home crashing was, um... also nice. At least the animals were entertained.

After winding the Zoo Crew up beyond any reasonable hope of sleepiness, the New York city girls went out for an intellectual night in the city. The problem was, they forgot to bring any intellectuals with them.

Instead, they brought Sarah, Danie, and some other chick with pouty lips. Yes, Angie dragged our newfound strangers out for Quiz Night at our pub around the corner. No, they did not win, as is evident by Angie's long face. Her lip quivering might have more to do with the empty beer than losing BIG TIME at quiz, but we'll never know, since the Brainiac and the Big Apple gang came home missing too many brain cells to really tell. Uh, when is it my turn?

After two nights and three days of serving New York's finest, we kicked Lisa and Susan to the airport and got on with our camping trip. Our what??

Silly me had somehow sillily thought that after eleven days in the car with three screaming brats and a silly backseat driver who sat in the front to be even more annoying, followed by three days entertaining silly New Yorkers who suck at quiz, I would somehow be entitled to a little break. Silly me.

Camping was awesome, if 'awe' is synonymous with 'really' and 'some' somehow equates to 'loud'. After such a comprehensive and thoroughly enjoyable test of my hearing, I had a brilliant and somewhat quieter idea. It involved ice, popcorn and me screaming at Peter to stop screaming during the 'scary dinosaur' bits.

Yes, the shirt says it all. Peter was so more than happy, though. His shirt really should've read 'MAN! Is Papa cool or what?'

Speaking of cool-ass manly Papa-types with chest-fulls of hair and biceps that you could crack coconuts with, Tom was busy learning how to push chairs around the room.

Actually, there's not a whole lot to say about that one. He pushed a chair. I mean, come on. I'm his father and I was still saying 'whoopty-doo' to over-astounded Mama. If she starts bragging about this amazing new trick that Tommy can do with a chair, just humor her and say 'wow'.

Opa is another one of those amazing types that can do amazing things with chairs, like sit in them. Angie, come quick! You gotta see this!

He can also make monkey faces and actually get David to look you in the eyes. As easy as this sounds, it's not. My camera has been trying in vain to make eye contact with him for over three years now. Tom, on the other hand, had no problem establishing eye contact with Brian.

Direct contact with Brian can be damaging to the eyes, but David and his Ray Charles spectacles managed to survive the encounter. All this close encounter made the third kind want to gnaw on some meat sticks. Don't ask me why.

After chowing down, the kids went completely theatrical on us. It was all fine and weird until Peter decided to bust out his dramatic solo.

Uh, what in sweet hell is THAT? In Peter's defense, it was theater, so I guess I should have expected some bizarre dance moves, but holy crap! Even bizarre has its limits.

To make up for being so weird, Peter thought it would be totally normal to strangle Dalia with his patented Heimlich hug that is normally only appreciated by people choking on chicken bones.

Luckily, Dalia has a high tolerance for weirdos. This probably stems from parental influence, but according to Angie, I've been known to be wrong. Yeah, sweetie - I can think of one time, for sure.

Dalia has been wanting a dog for more than half of her life. She ended up with Cash instead, which is something I've been wanting for more than half of my life.

After letting Cash walk Brian around for a while, we went to check on Tom.

If this does not scream 'Hey, look at me - look at what I'm doing - LOOK AT ME!!!' I don't know what does. Okay, I admit - between the chair trick and the one-baby band, I would have to pick Mr. Bojangles.

At some point in the past several weeks that I'm trying to catch up on, Peter and David had Artin over and taught him how to lock out the women and children first.


This was funny for the first hour or two, but then Angie started holding up hand-written notes like 'I'm hungry' and 'open up now, damn it!' For a teacher, she's not really that bright; she knows the boys can't read. Anyway, it started getting dark and it was totally impossible to watch TV with Angie screaming her head off on the balcony, so we let her back in. The screaming continued anyway, though, so I think I know how I'll handle that one next time.

After instigating everything, Peter left with Artin to spend the night at his house, leaving a rather sad David. Mama came to the rescue by calling in Sarah's snuggle crew.

Chiara and Alessio went to sleep like professionals. David is more of a blue-collar kinda guy, so he kept the party going even after they zonked out. It was cool, except I had to go in two times because David was poking Chiara in the face and shouting 'are you still awake?'

Before the adult types zonked out, Barb showed up and we also had a cool 'poke her' party of sorts.

Barbara won and was just a tad bit too happy about it. It's okay, though. After each round, I kept poking her in the eye, asking 'are you still winning?' After a few rounds, her chip pile began to mysteriously disappear.

David must have feared retaliation for his long night of eye-poking and wisely chose the appropriate safety gear to defend himself.

This picture is great because it is documented proof on what a climbing-freak Tom is becoming. He is an absolute pro at climbing anything and everything. This would probably not be a problem if it weren't for his descent techniques, also known as falling.

So far, Tom has had a bloody nose, a bloody lip and a sore throat from screaming after those fun events. No band-aids, yet, but they will come in good time, I'm sure. David did have a band-aid on his arm, which was from a vaccination shot against ticks. This is probably good, seeing as how he loves to roll around in mother nature's mud, dirt, grass and Sami's weeds.


We went to Kika and Sami's for a nice BBQ. David forgot his wallet and couldn't pay, so Sami put him to work in the garden as compensation. During one of his thirty-four breaks, David decided to make Lauri cry.

Angie thought it might be the tattoo on David's arm, but as always, her thoughts are useless. Doesn't matter; we now realize that we will have to slowly and delicately acclimate Lauri to the Zoo Crew. Very slowly.

I think Artin and Peter probably played their 'lock a parent out' trick on their over-nighter, since Shayeste and Sharpur offered the next day for Artin to crash at our pad. It was Artin's first overnight adventure and he loved it. I'm pretty sure that his parents one-upped us by injecting sugar and chocolate into the kids before dropping them off; they were still buzzing three hours after 'lights out'.

It still amazes and disappoints me that kids who go to bed later than usual do not, actually, wake up later. They still get up at dawn's first light, but then they are cranky and tired and don't understand why but somehow blame you. Luckily, I am used to this after almost a decade with Angie, so I did what I tend to do with her and just ignored them. By the sixth cup of coffee, they were sociable again. And wired.


Their poses in this picture remind me of the video for 'Sabotage'; they're only missing the fake moustaches and rubber pistols. After getting our beastie boys down from the roof, we took Artin back home. I kept feeding him chocolate and sugar and giggled my ass of in the car until we had a flat tire right in front of their house. Damn Kharma and her sick sense of humor.

You would probably be super proud of me that I was actually able to change a car tire without calling roadside assistance. I would probably let you believe this if it wasn't for the fact that Angie has recently figured out how to write comments on the blog. Damn.

To avoid Angie ratting me out, I can simply come clean. Sharpur came to the rescue.

'So, you have a flat tire'

'Not well endowed is actually the PC thing to say, but yes. Do you have the number for roadside assistance?'

'Why? We're men. Let's just change it.'

'Of course, that's what I said. I am man. Let's do it!'

'Where's the jack?'

'I don't know Jack.'

'The tool-thingy to make your car go up in the air.'

'Oh, that thing. I don't know.'

'Do you have a manual?'

'Of course. No self-respecting male drives an automatic.'

'No, that's not what I meant. You know, what Steve - how about you just stand there and hold this flashlight.'

'Sure, but it's daytime - why do you need a...'

'Just hold it, okay.'

To make a long dialogue short, Sharpur changed the tire and I watched him. It was fascinating! It is also the reason that everyone in the picture above was showing their dirty hands except me. After the picture, I rubbed my hands on the old tire so I wouldn't feel left out, but somehow that happened anyway.

Not left out was Tom, who was actually left in.

'There's a hole in my bucket. Can't buy no beer.'

While helping to change Papa's flat tire, Peter learned that your hands get dirty. Unlike David and Tom, Peter does not like dirt. He's a clean-freak, actually. Border-line obsessive compulsive at times, but that's a funny story for some other blog.

After my car's tire exploded, my bike's tire felt left out and decided to blow itself up. I decided to take Peter with me to have it repaired.

Peter decided that there was no way he was going to touch the tire and 'make my hands filthy-dirty, no thanks, Papa - you do it'. I thought about calling Sharpur, but remembered his words of wisdom: 'We're men. Let's just change it'. Thank you, oh wise one.

I finally got Peter to walk with me to the bike shop, where I was confronted by the most honest and least customer-friendly businessman ever.

'Hi, my old tire has a problem with the chain rotator. I'd like to change it and I brought a new tire with me.'

'Okay. You just need to change the tires, then.'

'Great, how much would that cost, then?'

'What? Are you serious? Just change the tire.'

Thanks again, ass-monkey who called my manhood into question. I can change a freakin' tire, by the way!

Luckily, we did not need bikes to go to the Kika kids' Summer Fest. No, we needed a train ticket and a lot of patience instead.

What you see here is David holding up his arm as if it is a 200 lb weight after we took a pen and wrote my cell phone number on his arm. Peter did not need this, but then again - he has never run away in crowded areas.

From my point of view, the festival was great. Kids, music, freaky weird people in costumes on stage.

The only thing missing was the beer tent, but it wasn't happy hour yet, so I was not panicking. From the kids' point of view, the festival sucked. There were lines everywhere and 'nothing fun to do'. At least they were good at concealing their discontent to the three adults who woke up MEGA-early on a weekend to get them to the damn thing on time.

Angie was not one of the three yawning musketeers, by the way. She was busy at home breast-sleeping Tom and laughing at me, I'm sure.

Shayeste, Sharpur and I racked our brains trying to figure out what could possibly top an outdoor children's festival with all of their well-known and adored TV friends stuffed and in real life? Oh, of course - how stupid of us adults - Burger King! They have cardboard crowns, greasy burgers, and a playground that is apparently missing a sign that warns of flying destructive objects. Please don't sue us, Shayeste.

After our cholesterol intake, I made the wise and healthy choice of ice-cream for dessert.

They were on such an adrenaline high by this point that I am completely amazed that I managed to get a photo with both of them actually sitting. I can tell you, it did not last long. We got home and Angie questioned why the boys were so high on life. I counter-complained with one of my own - why was Tommy getting so high?

Tom likes to climb. I vaguely remember mentioning this somewhere, although I'm not sure where. Doesn't matter, Peter distracted me with his 'arrested elephant' dance that he must have learned from 'Pumpkin-Top', cousin to carrot freak.


Tom felt a little left out. Again. To feel a little left in, he decided to portray a pirate riding a lizard. Yeah, so...that's really, um...unique, Tom.


Not one to be outdone, Peter joined the crowd surrounding Papa demanding my attention.

Ah, Peter - that's a really cool costume and all, but most Superheroes need at least one eye to carry out their kick-ass super-awesome powers. What hero are you supposed to be, anyway?

Oh, cool. You must be the incredible 'E-man'. That's really, uh, special, but you do know that your name actually begins with a P and not an E, right? Blank look. Whatever E-dude, you cool.

E-ter and his sidekick O-m went to the L-ayground and had a ball on the L-ide.

Where was A-vid during all of this cryptic fun? He was busy getting a haircut. When I put David to bed, I only need to run my fingers through his hair once or twice and he is out like a light. I thought this had something to do with him being in his bed and snuggled up on his pillow and therefore already somewhat sleepy. Angie would love hearing that once again, my thoughts were wrong.

This is the 'Going, going, gone' sequence with David at the barber shop. As he dreamt sweet dreams of destruction, mayhem and homeless weirdos with funny accents, I was busy putting catch-up on my blog.