Saturday, July 16, 2005

Privacy is not a family activity.

Overheard conversation between Ganma and Chase at the movie theater:

“…because they won’t let me go in the boy’s restroom and you’re not old enough to go by yourself.”
“Do you know how old I am?” (4)
“Do you know how old your daddy is?”
*pause*
“…no, but he’s old”
“Does he ever get to go to the bathroom by himself?”
*longerpause*
*kicks foot at ground*
“Awwww, man!”

Sunday, July 03, 2005

So sue me...

OK, OK, I know it's been a while. But alot has been going on. Some good, some bad, but not real bad. As usual, work took control of my life, but things are starting to settle down...sorta.

Ganma lost her job, which wasn't really a bad thing. We're OK enough that I've had to rearrange some things, but we'll be alright. Things have settled down in the kid's lives, so we're not having to spend all that money on the lawyers. Ganma tells everyone she's just practicing for retirement.

*rolleyes*

All three boys have been doing well in their full-time jobs, which is growing up and that is serious work. That also means that I have quite a few stories to tell. And I will....eventually.

Just remember, life is like getting a whip-cream pie in the face on your 4th birthday. "I can not believe y'all did that to ME!" (Chase)

Thursday, September 23, 2004

PapaaAAAaaaAAAaaa!!

One of the very first words Chase learned to say was, “Papa.” Each morning he would run (toddle) through the front door yelling, “Papa!” Then the rest of the time I spent getting ready for work he was my shadow, saying Papa…Papa….Papa, Papa, PapaPapaPapaPapa….

And if I wasn’t paying enough attention to him, the Papa’s just got louder and louder until I did. It could get really, really irritating. Distracting. And irritating.

Did I mention how irritating it was?

God, I miss hearing it.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

Medical facts...

The capacity of a four year old's bladder is exactly 17.2 miles.

On the road again...

On our way to Sea World a while back, we’d made a pit stop and I was walking from the back of the Texaco. Before I could get to the counter, Ganma must have come in with Tate for snacks because I heard him proclaim loudly, “Papa gots gas!” To which the teenager behind the counter lean over and replied, “Yeah, kid, I have the same problem with my Granpa when I ride with him. It helps if you crack one of the windows.”

*sigh* The rest of the way to the park, I had to listen to a window whistle.

Monday, September 20, 2004

Somewhere to start.

One afternoon I was sitting in the living room with one eye on the news and the other on Tate coloring at the coffee table, when Ganma came in and asked how his day had been.

With a heavy sigh, he just kept coloring and said, “You know, Ganma? Some days I have good days and some days I have bad days. *sniff* But some days stuff just happens and I lose all my tabs.”