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??
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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.
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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.