Too Cool for School

This is Tommy, age four. With a father that can bench-press his own son's weight, it's no surprise that his coolness curve spiked prematurely; I just thought we had a few more years.

The boys went back to school after two weeks off and at some point during the vacation, Tommy discovered style. His apparently consists of a sun hat, sunglasses, and a leather coat. He'll probably ditch his winter jacket when he discovers that sweat is not cool. I hope.

Angie also had two weeks off and being away for so long built-up a lot of teaching to do. When she came home from work, it was clear she hadn't gotten it out of her system.

'Boys, come here! I want to show you an experiment.'

Angie then tied two balloons to a ruler with ribbon and stood back to admire her amazing contraption.

As David skeptically studied Mama's curious sculpture, Angie loudly tried to teach Tommy that whacking balloons with his super-secret ninja laser sword is not cool. Patience, grasshopper.

'Okay, so, the two balloons are the same size and balance. If I pop the red one, will the blue one go up or down?'

David was the first to respond. 

'Nooo!!! Not the red one! Pop the blue one!'

Tommy was the next to break the non-existent silence.

'Pop 'em both, Mama!'

Peter yawned and tried his damndest to look cool.

'The blue one will go down.'

My brain then convinced me that it was my turn.

'Nothing will happen.'

Angie cast me a satisfyingly annoyed look before popping the red balloon. After several seconds, David was again the first one to break the awkward silence.

'Hey, Papa...You were right.'

That's right - I am the modern day Nostradamus. When Angie cooks, I can normally predict the outcome, so I don't see why anyone was really that surprised. As it turns out, Angie wasn't surprised; she was mad. Big surprise. 

'Damn it!'

'Ah, that's sweet. Is that what you teach your students?'

When Angie's temper boils, she tends to ignore wisecracks from seductive man-nuggets, so I predicted that she would just continue babbling.

'I don't get it! This worked at school!'

'Hmm. Just curious, but at school, did you use an oversized ruler and wrapping paper ribbon?'

'No.'

I chose life over responding and started rounding up the boys for bed. I launched this fun exercise with a typical routine, which is to sing my patented version of 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat'.

Brush, brush, brush your teeth,
Gently on the gums.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Brushing your teeth is fun.

Yeah, bullshit. I might have been able to make brushing your teeth fun when the boys were still teething, but pretty much since then, the nightly routine could be more aptly described as 'herding cats'.  Tommy ran off one way, giggling something about giving Lukie a 'power hug'. David took off down the hallway dancing and Peter put on his headphones and ignored my screaming for 'everyone to stop what they are doing and pay wrath to me now!'

Angie ran up to me immediately, of course, and asked me what favor she could possibly do to please me. I dismissed her with a wave of my bicep and honed in on Tommy instead. He was 'hiding' under the sofa. I write 'hiding' because in my book, twitching like a flipped beetle and giggling like a hyena does not constitute hiding. Hmmm, where could Tommy be?

I took Tommy to the bathroom, ankles first. When I finally got him to stop squirming, I had to distract him.

'Hey, Tommy, do you know what color Peter's eyes are?'

'Yeah, blue-green-gray.'

'Right, kinda. What about David's?

'Brown.'

'Great, two-for-Tuesday. What about your eyes?'

'Brown.'

'Nope. Guess again.'

'YA-HUH!'

Rather than getting into a screaming match with my third born, I not so kindly suggested to the color-blind kid that he find a mirror and confirm that his dad is not a liar.

My reputation was restored with a single syllable.

'Cool!'

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Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: That I could play with Arman in school.
David: School was very good.
Tom: That we could have treats.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That Arman could not come over to play after school.
David: Peter scaring me every time.
Tom: That I can not spend the night by me friend.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: I want that Arman comes over.
David: I want to play a little bit on the computer.
Tom: Play computer, watch TV and I wanna play the Cat in the Hat.

Bridge over Flooded Waters

This is a view from the Old Bridge in downtown Heidelberg. 'But hey, don't you live in downtown Heidelberg?' you ask. Yes, we do, but fortunately, unless you ask the boys, the rising waters did not turn our street into a 'super-duper river-pool'.

At first, the boys could not really grasp that downtown Heidelberg was under water. They know what a flood is, but they couldn't believe that it could happen just a few streets away. Are you calling me a liar?

And that's how we ended up on a flood watch on the last day of the boys' two-week school vacation. On the way down, I checked out the river levels by our street and was a bit surprised to discover that we were only four inches away from having a watery basement. The boys were impressed, but not for long. Surprise, surprise.

We circumvented the flood and headed to the Schnitzel House, where David and Tommy burst into a variation of a new game that I regret inventing the other day. Mine was actually just a spin-off of 'tag' that I called 'Foots-it', which is what I would shout as I stomped on their toes and run off giggling. David, being the bright boy he is, came up with his own game called 'Butts-it'. 

Tommy, along with a bunch of Asian tourists, absolutely loved that David was racing around the plaza butt first. It was around this point that Angie decided to walk up to the flimsy aluminum flood gate and just, you know, stare.

At one point, I meandered over to Angie and asked her if maybe she wanted to take a turn watching the boys butt-tag each other. It wasn't so much an answer as it was a giggle that ended with 'no'.

Eventually our food arrived and as we stuffed ourselves, the boys noticed the stuffed boar's head hanging over our table.

'Ah, Mama, look - that's so sad.'

'You do realize that you are eating a pork schnitzel, right?'

'Yeah, it's yummy. Why?'

Angie gave me her 'should I?' look, to which I responded with my 'hell no, change the subject' look.

'Who wants strawberry cake?'

Oddly enough, only Peter wanted dessert. Tommy and David were holding out for ice-cream, which we had promised them for the way home.

After giving my wallet a tip to stop eating out, we moved on. We passed an ice-cream shop that was not our 'regular' parlor. Tommy didn't give two scoops, though.

'I want ice-cream.'

'Yeah, buddy. I kinda figured that one out when you raced in here and started beating on the counter, but we're going to Gelato Go. It's right around the...'

'I want ice-cream.'

'Tommy, listen, that's what I was just trying to...'

'I want ice-cream.'

I motioned to Angie to move on with the big ones and stayed behind with broken-record boy.

'Tell you what, buddy - you can have an ice-cream from this shop, but that means you're not going to have one from Gelato Go. Deal?'

'I want ice-cream.'

The guy behind the counter was starting to get impatient.

'Just give him a scoop of whatever the hell he starts frantically pointing at and throw some sprinkles on it.'

As we walked to catch up with the others, Tommy totally devoured his cone. After his ice-frenzy, he turned to me, burped and screamed that he had a 'brain cold'.

'Ha, ha. I think what you mean is...'

Before I could respond, he giggled 'BYE-BYE' at me and suddenly *POOF* - Tommy was gone. Finally. 

I rather enjoyed the rest of the walk to Gelato Go. That is, of course, until I saw Tommy emerging from the shop, prouder than a peacock and gripping another ice-cream cone. I turned my disbelief on Angie.

'I can't believe that you bought Tommy a second cone!'

'What do you mean 'second'?'

Angie and I were heatedly discussing the protocol governing the purchase of ice-cream for children when Tommy raced over screeching like a stuck owl.

'I have again a brain cold!'

At that point, Angie gave me her 'should I tell him it's called a 'brain freeze'?' look, to which I responded with my 'hell no, let dessert boy suffer' look and changed the subject.

'So, boys, who's ready to go back to school?'

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Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: That we could go in the Schnitzel House.  
David: That we go'ed to the Schnitzel House and that Alessio and Chiara was here.
Tom: That we was by the Schnitzel House.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That we couldn't come with the bikes to the Schnitzel House.
David: That Arman couldn't go with to eat schnitzels.
Tom: That we was not by ga-ga-mitchy.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: I want to play with Arman 'Kaka Vögel'.
David: I want to learn much in school.
Tom: Go to Africa.

Alright, let's move out!

Today's mission was to drop off Peter's broken scooter to get it fixed. It all started with what I thought would be a stroll up the pedestrian zone. Notice that I didn't write 'nice stroll'; the weather has been absolute crap lately, so Mother Nature kissed any chance of positive adjectives away several days ago. I also didn't write 'quiet stroll'; we had Tommy with us. Alright, let's move out!

I did write 'stroll' and kinda stupidly thought that we would actually be moving in a forward-like strolling motion. About halfway through our nondescript tramp, Angie whipped around.

At first, I thought her 'you're in deep shit, buddy' look was aimed at me. I was actually getting ready to dive into a nearby garbage bin and scream for help when she pushed me aside.

'Peter! Where's your scooter?'

Peter's face turned even paler and contorted into a blubbery mass of fear that I know only too well. I narrowly resisted the urge to poke a finger in his face and shout 'Ha, ha! Busted!'. Instead, I maturely side-scooched out of Angie's wrath-path and settled in for the show. Man, where's a big bag of popcorn when you need one?

'Peter! I asked you a question. Where is your scooter!?'

'At the house.'

'What do you mean "at the house"?'

'It's in the hallway.'

'What do you mean "in the hallway"?'

'Sorry.'

'What do you mean "sorry"?

Peter finally figured out the right male-response and just hung his head low. I was so proud.

'Why did you do that?'

'I don't know.'

'What do you mean "I don't know"?'

'Should I go get it?'

'No, that's okay. We'll just go to the repair shop and ask them to imagine fixing your scooter. Can't wait for the bill on that one.'

Awkward pause as Peter tried his damndest to understand hostile sarcasm from parental figures.

'Yes, Peter! Of course you need to go and get your scooter! Go! We'll wait here.'

Oddly enough, Peter didn't wait around for any more of the lovely 'Mama-Peter' chit-chat; he whipped around and damn-near trampled an old lady as he raced away from 'us'.

David looked sad, but only for a moment. As luck would have it, a Hari Krishna parade came by. It was as if David had found his calling in life. He raced out to the front of the procession and began shouting his version of their chant as he danced his version of their dance.

I kid you not, within two minutes, my middle buddy was engulfed in a circle of colorful robes that literally stopped their city parade. David recently self-taught himself the joys of beat-boxing, which up until now basically involves him spitting in your face, so I got a little concerned when the crowd started clapping.

Luckily, an out-of-breath Peter showed up carrying a broken 'anything' that we could go fix. Alright, let's move out!

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Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I am so funny with David that I make him laugh so much.
David: That everyone had very much fun.
Tom: That I did play with the guys.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: That Davey was mean to me 'cause I had something and he was like "ugh, give it to me!" and that I don't like.
David: That I can't play hockey.
Tom: That Torumba-chi-chi did come in the room.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: I want to be funny with David.
David: To play hockey.
Tom: Gonna play I computer.