Making America Loud Again: Landfall

Being the Johnsons, we did not trust ourselves to wake up in the middle of the morning in time to make it to the airport for our flight to the States. To shorten the drive and decrease the odds of inadvertently leaving any children behind, we stayed at Grams overnight. At 4:00 in the morning, my alarm went off. Our flight was scheduled to take off at 7:30 in the A.M. from Frankfurt, which is only about 25 minutes away at that God-awful hour.  I checked my phone, wishfully hoping for a flight delay. I then rubbed my eyes and checked again. WHOO-HOO!! Our flight was delayed until 11:00! Thank you, American Airlines!

I then reset my alarm and got three more hours of that beauty sleep that Angie keeps telling me I don't need. We also called Heidi and Klaus, who had graciously volunteered to let us park at their place and have them drive us to the airport. They live about five minutes from the airport, so this saves us some seriously ridiculous parking fees. Klaus was also loving the extra beauty sleep that Heidi keeps telling him he needs.

As I slept, I had a nightmare and flashed back to our last trip to the U.S, where Angie had impatiently thrown a stuffed teddy bear at a TSA agent while going through customs, causing a complete lock-down that ended with bomb-sniffing equipment being brought to the scene and us missing our connecting flight.

I woke up sweating, but tried shaking off the anxiety by telling myself that nothing similar could possibly happen again. Of course, I've also told myself the same thing about family members embarrassing me in public, so I'm obviously shit at paying attention to ominous foreshadowing.

A short side note, and I am not trying to assign blame at all, but... it was ANGIE who was in charge of packing the suitcases for the boys. The only mistake that she will never own up to is that she allowed each of them to pack their own carry-on.

Sensible Peter packed earphones, a pillow, a book, and a sweater in case it got cold on the flight. Not-so-sensible David packed a bag of potato chips, fifty individually wrapped Life Savers, a soda, and three decks of magic cards.

Tom was really the joker card. Was he going to lean more towards Peter or more towards David? In the end, Tom chose the by me-self path, and that one told his ten-year old brain that what airplane folk needed the most in their carry-on were water pistols. Two of them. And nothing else. 

This is Tom, quite tickled with himself that he had been chosen out of all the people going through security to be invited to a personal interview with a security agent that was not quite as tickled. Oddly, though, he didn't address Tom. No, no. I was slightly less than tickled to have that honor.

'Sir, you are not allowed to bring weapons of any kind on an aircraft!'

'Okay, but come on! They're brightly colored plastic water guns and obviously look nothing like a real weapon. Besides, they're not filled with any liquids.'

'Sir, you're gonna have to take a step back. I'm calling in the Federal Police, they can decide.'

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that my lovely wife was not wielding any stuffed animals.

'No problem, Sir. I'll wait here patiently with my delinquent third-born.'

A few minutes later, two heavily armed police officers showed up. After a few brief explanatory exchanges, the officers lowered their weapons and had a peek into Tom's carry-on. One of them then stood up and glared at the security agent that had initially stopped us.

'Oh, come on! They're brightly colored plastic water guns and obviously look nothing like a real weapon. Besides, they're not filled with any liquids.'

I vaguely tried to avoid smirking and failed miserably. Instead, I avoided eye contact with the red-faced security agent, quickly collected Tom's arsenal of dangerous plastic weaponry and fled the scene with my fugitive family to our gate.

Despite Tom's lack of attention to detail when it came to what was allowed in your carry-on luggage, we actually made it to our flight twenty minutes before boarding. Being the wise and seasoned sailor that I am, I asked my merry bandit of seamen if anyone needed to hit the head before embarking on our voyage. When they didn't understand my jargon, I asked if anyone needed the bathroom. Tom and David signaled their interest.

When we got to the restroom, there was a cleaning lady standing by the sinks and repeatedly hitting a green button on the wall. I am witness to strange things on a daily basis so I simply ignored this and went on with my business. When I was done, I went to wash my hands. The lady looked a bit startled and quickly pushed her cart out of the bathroom. I washed my hands and then had a closer look at the buttons she had been frantically pushing. 

That's right. The buttons were to allow patrons to vote on just how satisfied they were with the cleanliness of that particular restroom. The green button was a smiley, which apparently worked well. It made me smile.

After visiting what was beyond a doubt the most satisfyingly clean bathroom ever, we boarded a shuttle to take us out to the plane.

We had a brief layover in North Carolina where we had to clear customs. One short hop later and we landed in Norfolk. While waiting for the bags, the boys began to wonder if the belt would be rotating clockwise or counterclockwise once it started. I don't remember which way was correct, but as is apparent with this picture, Mama was right. Again. 

After collecting our bags, David and Tom raced across the room and began attacking an elderly couple that looked a lot like Oma and Pop-Pop.

About a month ago, Christine and I were talking and we realized that her visit with my parents and our visit were going to overlap. Her kids go to a U.S. school and ours go to a German school, so we had always thought that there was never a possibility for the cousins to see each other during the summer break. We were wrong, though. There was a one-day overlap, and they made the most of it.

Holy shit! Zoom in and check out Tommy. I'm quite sure that this is the same glimpse that pterodactyl victims witnessed seconds before having their entrails presented to them.

The cousins had an absolute blast for several hours. The evening ended with the only respectable way I know of to feed ten humans - pizza.

After dinner, my dad brought out a homemade strawberry-Jell-O-sugar cake that highlighted his utter lack of wisdom when it comes to winding down hyperactive cousins. The only thing that saved the day was that our wild ones had not slept on the plane and were losing power quickly. Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow! 
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Ladder Talk: 
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: That we arrived and that we saw Patrick and Stephanie - that was a surprise. 
David: The surprise with Stephanie and Patrick and Christine and jumping in the pool again. 
Tom: That we came in and that Patrick and Stephanie were here. 

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That we had to fly almost the whole day. 
David: Finding out that Patrick and Stephanie had to leave the next day. 
Tom: That the waiting in Germany for the flight was really long. 

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: Go in the pool. 
David: I want to have fun with the rest of the time with Patrick and Stephanie and go in the pool and, oh, yeah - eat a dill pickle. 
Tom: Go into the pool again with Patrick and Stephanie. 

Back to Chaos

'You have to make it fun for them.'

Angie's words were ringing in my ears as we drove to visit her on day two of her hospital stay. Peter broke my concentration with a question that I'm pretty sure he would not have asked if Mama had been in the car.

'Can I roll down my window?'

There is no speed limit in Germany on a lot of the highways, so we were cruising at 140 km (around 90 mph). I was about to explain when one of the voices in my head reminded me. 'You have to make it fun for them.'

'Go for it!'

The insane giggling could still be heard over the roar of the wind. It brought a smile to my face, which was something I had not predicted at the beginning of day two.

In the weeks that followed, Angie's mantra would lead to a lot of things that probably would never have happened.

'Papa, can I have an ice-cream for breakfast?'

'Go for it!'

'Papa, can we go to McDonald's every day for lunch?'

'Go for it!'

'Papa, can we make milkshakes for dinner?'

'Go for it!'

'Papa, can I climb up the side of an elevator wearing Crocs that are two sizes too big?'

'Go for it!'

'Papa, can we ignore the big "NO TRESPASSING" signs and go check out the cool helicopter next to the hospital?'

'Go for it!'

'Papa, can all three of us get into the tub and splash gallons of water onto the floor?'

'Go for it!'

'Papa, can we ball up all of the newspapers that Mama isn't here to read and use them for a summer-time snowball fight?'

'Go for it!'

I like that in the end, David and Tommy teamed up to take Peter down. Peter apparently didn't like this.

'Papa, can I punch David and Tommy in the belly?'

'Buddy, I have to draw the line somewhere.'

So, yeah - I think you get the point. I tried making it fun for them.

We also went for a visit every day. Understandably, the trips in the beginning were a bit solemn.

After a week or so, the boys got into playing games with Mama.

I love this shot because the expressions speak volumes.

David's is saying 'Who won? Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh biggity-bonk yeah!'

Peter's is saying 'If you don't stop gloating, I'm gonna drop-kick you in the teeth.'

Mama's is saying 'If Peter tilts his card just a little more, I'm so totally gonna cheat.'

Angie was still in the hospital when Christine and George flew in. For some reason, my family normally tends to visit us for one, max two days. For my sister, it was two days.

Angie wasn't up for a hospital visit, though, so I had to entertain. My managerial background kicked in and I simply delegated the task.

'Boys! Go have fun with your cousins!'

After scaring some hearing-sensitive neighbors, the boys took Patrick and Stephanie to the bridge over the Neckar.

After scaring some hearing-sensitive swans, the cousins broke the Guinness Book of World Records for the loudest picnic ever. Ever.  

After scaring off hearing-sensitive humans, the loud ones turned on me.

'We want ice-cream, and we want it NOW!'

'Uh, umm...Go for it?'

After an ear-piercing afternoon with five sugar-packed wildlings, nothing hits the spot like a bottle or two of wine.

After this lovely gem, Stephanie announced to everyone that she loved David and that they would be getting married soon.

Shortly after Stephanie's impromptu proclamation, Christine ordered another glass of wine. Make it a double. Then, like the ass I am, I tricked my older sister into playing a funny game with the kids.

I felt guilty, so I reminded Christine of two things:

1. I was taking pictures.
2. I write a blog where I tend to embarrass immediate family members.

In her defense, there was a slight pause before she responded.

Shortly after, George called for the bill and we said our goodbyes.

A few days later, we visited Angie on her last night at the hospital. I tried to strike up a conversation that would subliminally warn her of the state of our apartment. As if it were a sign that things were slowly returning back to chaos, she completely ignored me.

'Steve! The boys have been eating McDonald's every single day. You have to promise me that you're not going to McDonald's tonight.'

'I promise.'

As we left the hospital, we passed a McDonald's, which was conveniently located right next to the hospital.

'Papa, can we go to McDonald's for dinner?'

'Nope, sorry. I promised Mama that I would not take you to McDonald's.'

The boys complained, but only briefly. They know by now that whines and nags are the two things that I can expertly tune out.

As we entered Heidelberg, I remembered the promise to Angie that I would not take the boys to McDonald's for dinner and simply drove past the second set of golden arches. As we passed Burger King, though, my brain nudged me - should we?

'Go for it!'

Beach bums

We couldn't travel to the east coast and not go to the beach. By that logic, we could not travel to the beach without David face-planting Tommy into a breaking wave and cackling like a beach bum.

Okay, it was David's logic, but I'm sure it made sense to his brain. Tommy's gray matter didn't quite comprehend the action, but his lungs seemed to pick up on what was going on. They then apparently commanded Tommy's limbs to pick up a plastic shovel and start beating the crap out of David's ear.

When I finally stopped laughing, I tried to calm down wild things with a nice cousinly photo op.

Believe it or not, this was the best shot out of over 20 as I tried to get all five rug rats to look directly at the camera.

After swallowing a few gallons of salted water and building castles in the sand that Tommy liked to un-build with his foot, we decided to bring the sailors to shore.

Between the kitchen and the bathroom at my dad's place there is a beaded curtain that Tommy has named 'the wall of death'. Since Tommy is still diaper-bound, he unfortunately had no use for the room on the stinky side of death and up until today was quite content with staying in the kitchen with Angie. Uh, what the HELL is Angie doing in the kitchen??!!

After two bowls of Fruity Pebbles and half a glass of cherry Coke that he was not supposed to gulp, Tommy finally found the courage to just go for it.

This went on for about two hours until my dad came in and kicked all single-digit types into the pool.

Today was apparently the day for Tommy to learn new things. Let the lesson begin!

Today's lesson began when Tommy decided not to go in the pool. He chose instead to hang out on the patio and lock out slightly hung-over adult types. By Tommy's logic, this was cute and amusing - for the first twenty minutes. After that, a certain hairy-chested beach bum brought his logic to the patio door with pleading threats like 'PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE open the frickin' door before I kick it down and lock you behind the wall of death!' In the end, Papa's logic ruled. As it should be.

--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we go to the beach and I go in the water with Patrick.
David: At the beach and I build a super-duper castle for Stephanie.
Tom: When I go vrrrmm-boom and then I go in.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I wanted to stay on the beach but you say no.
David: When Tommy whack me in the ear with a shovel.
Tom: When you so mad why I lock the door.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To see Oma.
David: To play with Stephanie, maybe War.
Tom: To go to the big pool again.

The Birthday Train

In addition to trains, Patrick is also fascinated by tractors, combines, dump trucks, cement mixers, cars...pretty much anything that is mobile. Perhaps this stems from a burning desire to get the hell out of Indiana, by any means necessary? Perhaps not.

Since Patrick will be flying back to the States soon, we had to limit the gifts. Aside from the obvious train or ten, one of the presents was a combine harvester. The kid flipped out. But in a good not-psycho kinda way. He loved it and wanted me to sing him a song about it. I found this extremely odd, but I am used to strange relatives, so I came up with the following verse on the spot:

(sung to the melody of 'Oh my darling, Clementine!')

Oh my combine, oh my combine,
Oh my combine harvester
I have grown you and I've picked you,
Now I'll eat you, you piece of corn!

There is a good reason why I am writing blogs and not pop-chart singles. At least the birthday boy appreciated it. And appreciated it and appreshiated it and appreshited it. Yes, the middle of that word aptly described my new song after hearing that stupid verse for the 200th time on the way to the indoor playground. Damn me.

At least trampolines, inflatable slides and pools full of plastic balls distracted the birthday boy slightly. He had one minor setback when he began to sing, but I promptly took care of that with a well placed hit to his vocal box with a sponge Frisbee.

After hours of building Lego houses and tearing them down, we took the kids home and tried to calm them down.

Yeah, ok, that obviously didn't work.

It may have been the chocolate cake. Or maybe the banana splits. Or HEY, I don't know - perhaps it was the Kool-aid, cookies, ice cream, chocolate sprinkles, whip cream and M&M's? Perhaps not.

--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When it's Patrick's birthday.
David: When Sami and Katherina come.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When my forehead hurts.
David: When my head hurts, too, ok?

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To do my banana split.
David: Kika and Sami come.

It's the journey, not the destination

Kids don't give a damn, let alone five damns, about where they are going. It's how freakin' loud and annoying you can be on the way that counts. This sofa of the next generation was the preferred method of trainsport to this morning's pajama party. No, transport was not misspelled; I put that in there just for Patrick. He's the cute little train freak wearing red pajamas with, holy surprise, TRAINS all over them. Imagine that.

To get everyone primed for today's BIG TRIP, I shovelled bowl after bowl of Cap'n Crunch's Crunch Berries down their greedy little mouths until a glossy eyed Patrick began shaking uncontrollably and David tried to eat the cat. Luckily, Gizma is a veteran pro and just hissed the silly little human away.

It took the Breakfast Club 25 minutes to put on shoes, snowpants, scarves, hats, earmuffs, coats, and chapstick to finally be ready to brave the cold. The moment we opened the front door was, of course, when Peter decided that he needed to pee. What??!! What the hell happened to 'I don't need to go' which was your answer BOTH times I asked you before we started wrapping you up like a mummy?

I thought about telling Peter to just go, but he has taken to ratting on David lately and the chances were high that he might run into the living room and ask Mama first. Yes, the living room. The nice, warm living room, with the fresh pot of hot coffee. Oh, did I forget to mention that Mama would not be joining us on our BIG TRIP?

We eventually made it outside and the kids were bubbling over with excitement. Even though they had no idea where we were going, nor had they asked, I could tell the suspense was killing them so I finally told them. We are going to the BANK, followed by a side trip to the POST OFFICE. Yeah! Doesn't that sound fun? Whoooooo! Who's your uncle?

The boys did not catch any of it, though. They were already halfway down the street playing tag and a game of 'I'm going to knock you down and laugh in your face' that David was trying to teach Patrick. Judging by the tears, Patrick did not quite understand the game yet.

To cheer Patrick up, I took everyone on a streetcar, only I called it a 'train'. That worked.


We only went one stop on the 'train', mainly because the other passengers looked ready to mob us if we did not get off immediately. We jumped rails and found a nice cafe that served screaming kids. We ordered a hot chocolate for the boys, prompting the waiter to give me the 'I think they've had enough' look. I told him it was ok, I was driving. Now shut up and line 'em up, barkeep. And give me a double.

After de-thawing long enough to feel my toes tingling again, we packed up and made our way back. Yes, we took the 'train' back home. Yes, David tried teaching Patrick another new game on the way home. Yes, Patrick had problems understanding David's strange rules. Yes, the boys enjoyed our BIG TRIP. And yes, it most certainly the journey and not the destination.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I found a new sleeping hat and when we played green light, red light in the snow with Aunt Christine.
David: When we play with Patrick play-doh.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David was fighting with me over the chair.
David: When I cry 'cause I a baby.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play the wild game.
David: When Patrick come again.

Freedom toast

Mmmm... nothing like a nice fork full of... um, air.

This morning started out with my sister cooking French toast for the boys. Christine has mastered the term 'snacking' so this was only one of three meals that made up 'breakfast'. I was just pleasantly surprised that someone other than me was able to cook in the kitchen without setting things on fire. I hate fire.

After the boys devoured their third breakfast, it was time to get out of pajamas. Brian called with the agenda for today, which his wife and my lovely ball-and-chain had planned out in advance without telling me. Swimming at the pool sounded good on paper. After a closer look, though, I bailed out. Let me explain the why.

After hanging up with Brian, I began asking exactly who would be joining us on this lovely water adventure. Angie had a headache... ba-bye. Christine had no bathing suit... ba-bye. That left me in charge of Peter, David, and Patrick. Pools scare Peter. Pools do not frighten David, which terrifies Papa. Patrick just likes trains and I could find no way of comparing trains to water, so I was up pool creek without a paddle. In short, I called Brian back and cancelled like a little girl.

Instead, I forced Christine to babysit until her neck cramped up. I didn't help out then - I just laughed, grabbed the camera and took some pictures. Sometimes, the world is easier to deal with tilted.

Next on our list of things to accomplish was to exhaustify the boys. We did this by shoving them in the snow and laughing at them. The cold makes me sleepy, so I was hoping that my little plan would work.

Either Patrick and Peter bonded here or they were so cold that they started to conserve body heat by snuggling up to one another. Either way, the photo op made me almost gag, so it must have been cute. To bring things back to the funny side of ice, I told the boys to go lick a pole. Mama Big Ears intervened, though, and suggested that I do something else with a pole.

As we went to bed, I found Christine in the kitchen chowing down on her nightly ritual of a spoonful of peanut-butter. I grew up with Christine, so I am fully aware that she is weird. I just didn't know how whack-o she had gotten in recent years.

Mmmm... nothing like a nice spoon full of... um, peanut-butter??
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played with Patrick cars.
David: When we eat from mommy and you.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I fell from the slide and hurt my bottom on the floor.
David: When I fall down and go bonk really hard on my head.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Patrick spiderman.
David: When Patrick again come.

The long train of thought

Today we found out that castles make stroller-bound kids sleepy. We also discovered that Patrick likes trains. Actually, my nephew wouldn't shut up about them, so it was not really that big of a 'discovery'. I guess in Indiana they don't have trains. Or castles. Or the ability to state things only once and then move on.

'Hey P², what do you want for breakfast?'

'I like trains.'

'Uh, ok. But I asked about food. We have cereal, eggs, toast...'

'I like trains.'

'Yeah, I got it. Now, let it go. I can make some pancakes, waffles, or maybe some...'

'I like trains.'

'Thanks for the news flash, Boxcar Willie. I'll give you a dollar if you stop announcing it.'

It's a good thing I have developed a high tolerance for repetitive persistence, although it is normally in the form of 'are we there yet?'. See, the secret to that stupid question is to simply play their game - just keeping asking 'I know you are, but am I there yet?' over and over again until they cry. It is also a good thing that I had a dollar on me, since Patrick is obviously a financial investor in the making. At least he was able to put a plug in it for almost two minutes.

After drinking my brain breakfast with milk and two sugars, I had the brilliant idea of going to the castle for a picnic using the mountain rail car.

'See Patrick, it's like a train, but it goes up a mountain.'

'I like trains.'

'Here we go again...Ok, that's it! Someone put a coat on One-track and lets go!'

On the way to the cable car, I tried inventing a new game where if anyone said 'I like trains', they would lose. In addition to trains, I found out today that Patrick also likes being a loser.

If the caffeine had kicked into my brainstream a little sooner this morning, it would have dawned on me that having an outdoor picnic in the middle of winter is a cold idea. In my defense, I was slightly distracted by Patrick's bizarre declarations of fondness for locomotives. The aftermath of my brain freeze is this snapshot: Christine's jaw has frozen in mid-bite, Stephanie is stiff as an orange surfing board, Patrick is undoubtedly fantasizing about trains, Peter is trying to warm up by...I don't know, what is that - meditating, and David is flashing me his disgusted 'you're stupid' look that he must have learned from Mama.

We stopped in the castle café for some very HOT chocolate before making our way home. Peter and David threatened to gang-beat Patrick if he mentioned anything related to trains, so it was a relatively quiet ride home.

Christine cooked dinner tonight. For anyone who might be confused by this statement, let me remind you - Christine is my sister. Angie is my wife and if she cooked dinner, believe me, I would be more confused than you. I would also immediately increase our home owner's insurance and buy a few fire extinguishers.

Dinner was great - chicken marinated in soy sauce with 'a little garlic'. I saw Chris make it and sorry, but ten toes of garlic will definitely make the little piggy go 'wheeeee' all the way home. David liked it so much that he decided it was worthy of a food fight. After he took a handful of rice and chucked it at Patrick, I took a handful of David and chucked him into his room. Apparently garlic causes David to lose his freakin' mind.

As I was crawling around under the table trying to pick up tiny grains of rice from the carpet, David continued his little test of my patience. I don't do well with tests. I never have.

I heard a far-off giggling and my ears perked up. I know this giggle. This is not a good giggle. I hate this giggle. I ran to the source of the noise and found David by the toilet. Giggling. Oh crap.

After plucking my deodorant and a good portion of Angie's makeup out of the bowl, I opened a beer and suddenly the whole 'throwing shit in the toilet' game was pretty damn funny. Angie did not have a beer.

The kids spent the rest of the night using Aunt Christine's air mattress as a trampoline. I didn't approve, but Christine laughed and laughed and thought it was oh-so-funny until she went to bed later that night. I would be nice in calling my sister skinny, so unless it was one of her bones poking out, I am pretty sure that the boys had something to do with the air mattress blowing up. At that point, I opened another beer and laughed and laughed until Angie slapped me and told me it was not oh-so-funny. I offered her a beer. She declined.

David loved this new development, because it meant that we had to kick him out to Mama and Papa's room so that Chris could have his bed. Just watch out for spiders, snakes, bits of rice drenched in soy sauce, and any cosmetics that smell like toilet cleaner.

Tom decided to join in and make things interesting by starting to teethe. At age 3 months. Mama did not find this new milestone quite as hilarious as Papa, but I must repeat that Angie did not have a beer.

Before going to bed, Angie asked me what I had planned for tomorrow. I'm not sure, but if the phrase 'I like trains' comes up before my morning slug of adrenaline, I may be off to the store to buy a ball-gag and some masking tape.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we go to the castle and I like the picnic.
David: When Patrick came.
Patrick: My best part of today was eating.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When my belly hurt because I drink too much juice.
David: When Peter cry 'cause his tummy hurts - the really, really big belly owa.
Patrick: When I cried - it's because somebody hit me and I cry - somebody who was very bad and I fall on the very hard floor. That's why I was crying.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Dalia.
David: When Stephanie shake her head at me and laugh again.
Patrick: I would like to go on the train.

Return of the Patrick

After being released into the wild, some animals will start to miss captivity. Patrick is one of those strange creatures, but his return to the zoo was welcomed quite loudly by the other primates. To celebrate his great re-domestication, we took everyone to an indoor playground so the animals would feel more at home. Patrick displayed his alpha male traits and repeatedly annoyed David by sliding faster. Damn him and his slippery pants.

Just getting to the playground brought me as close to being a shuttle-bus driver as I would ever like to be. I made the first run and dropped off George, Patrick, Peter and David. I then left George on his own with the boys, fully aware of the risk that might pose to his hair. I did remind him that we were in Germany, and that they did sell beer, even at a kid's playground, even at 10 o'clock in AM. I love Germany.

I left to pick up the ladies who were at the lady clinic doing lady stuff that made me envy George and his liquid breakfast. Stephanie and Tom both made successful 'transfers' from the stroller to the car without waking up screaming their heads off. It is amazing how the little things can make you extremely happy when your life has suddenly exploded with kids. Never take sleep for granted. Ever.

After we got all of the livestock herded to the pasture, it was time to put down the cattle prod and enjoy a moment of silence, provided you can ignore the 500 screaming kids around you.


You can tell by the sheer concentration on my sister's face that guzzling her very hot coffee is the primary task at hand. Putting on the lip cream to soothe the burns comes only after downing the second steaming cup. It's more important what's on the inside.

You probably don't know this unless you have bugged my house, but Angie is the censor for my blog. I write stuff that I find incredibly funny late at night that Angie absolutely hates in the morning, even after coffee. Calling our children spawns and references to milk bags are just a few examples that have been vetoed by President O'Mama. I now leave everything in draft mode and Angie is the knowing accomplice that hits the publish button.

In this picture, what you don't see is that Tom is hiding under the blanket. He is not shy, so I will leave it up to your imagination to guess what he is doing. I will also leave it up to La Presidenta to decide whether this blog passes or not. No pressure.

You can also see in the picture above that Peter and Patrick are both drinking, but David is not. He has a far-off stare that typically indicates he is plotting something. That is why the next picture disturbs me a little more than slightly.

It does not surprise me that David found the sponge-gun; this was only a matter of time and searching on his part. His sheer look of delight does not even phase me. What does concern me is how purple his happy little trigger finger is turning from squeezing so hard.

We decided to leave before David figured out what to do with the bags of fertilizer and jugs of ammonia that were littering the back room.

In the evening, we had Sebastian over to celebrate his birthday.

He had originally invited us to his place to serve fondue. I called to tell him that my sister was here with her husband and two kids and suggested that it might be easier if he came to our place instead of all of us shuttling over there. I heard a click on the line and 30 seconds later, the birthday boy was at the door with a douffel bag full of cheese, bread, a fondue pot, some wine, and his kitchen sink. I guess he liked my idea of not going over to his place.

I love cheese. I love bread. Make it a meal, though, and my bowels will love you for a week. Damn him and his cheesey meal.
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Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When Patrick was playing that my airplane was a garage.
David: When Patrick came.
Patrick: The part of my day that was best was going to the restaurant and the museum. It was a big museum - there's nice things to see there. You wanna go there? And I have a big McQueen video - I hope you like it. I also have a Peterson book.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David was jumped on me when I was under the blankets and when my nose was bleeding 'cause I wanted to jump and I landed on my nose.
David: When Peter make me mad and when Stephanie cry.
Patrick: The worst part was when I don't like being under the covers when David was crushing us and smoothing us.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Patrick the volcanoe thing.
David: When we go in the zoo and Stephanie no cry, okay?
Patrick: I would like to go on the train - I really like trains.

My Cousin Patrick

Never give a dog a name with the word 'no' in it, such as Bruno. You should also never give a kid a name with the word 'trick' in his name, especially if that little boy has a twinkle in his eyes that gives away his passion for playing tricks.

Patrick, also known as 'P²' showed up at the Zoo today half-asleep. Or was he half-awake? We'll never know. The boys jolted his system with a full dose of 'hey, let's go break shit', so he at least hit the ground destroying.

In addition to Patrick, my sister Christine brought along little Stephanie, hairy George and 38 suitcases. Apparently the airports no longer have a weight limit, but our apartment does. The unneeded 37 bags had to form a landing pattern in our hallway. At one point, Chris asked for her slippers. 'Not those, my other pair of slippers'. Ah, ok. That explains it.

Like my father's last fly-by, my sister's one-day visit was too short. I am really beginning to wonder if we stink. Since Angie has told me that she smells like roses, it must be me. I will clean my smelly body with the tears that I will start shedding any minute now. Really.

The boys went from , 'hey, what's your name again?' to 'I don't remember you, so I am going to be shy' to 'I'm going to headbutt you if you do that again, you little jerk' in approximately four minutes. I love kids. If humans could interact with such honesty, I am quite certain we would all be glowing in the dark by now.

I think I have found the only picture known to mankind where Peter is not staring into the lens:

Either George's side of the family loves George's side of the family, or Patrick and Stephanie get that 'camera hog' gene from the Johnson side of chaos. Either way, check out the hot guy taking pictures!

Before going to bed, I needed to first make them a bed. Being the simple simpleton I am, I simply threw down a ton of mattresses and tried to convince the boys that it was like a big Christmas summer camp. They loved the HUGE sleeping bag I made and decided that Peter and David's Ladder Talk ladders would serve well as diving boards into cushion lake.

Despite what it might look like, Peter is not yanking Patrick's ear; his arm really is behind Patrick's back. It might also look like Peter and David are so high on crack-sugar that their hair is standing up. No comment.

Like any heroine addict will tell you, it is the first few hours of withdrawal that are the hardest. You toss, you turn, you shove strange sucking devices into your mouth. In the end, it does not really matter. What goes up always ends up drooling all over the pillow in the end.

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Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When Patrick came and we played with him.
David: When Patrick come and his mommy.
Patrick: Eating, um, corn and pork chops.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David pushed me when I was here.
David: When Stephanie again cry - that was a big cry and she no happy.
Patrick: When this was opened, I saw dark coming out of the window and I think he a big monster.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with Patrick jumping.
David: When Stephanie come again and she not crying.
Patrick: I would like to go on the train.

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