Tuesday, January 15, 2008


For whatever reason, my kids love the grocery store.
Maybe it's the slim chance daddy's lost his mind, and will fill the cart with Ding-Dongs and Twizzlers.
Perhaps it's the free cookie provided by the bakery lady with the hairnet.
Possibly it's each childs' notion that it's their turn to pick the Pop Tart flavor.
But as with all outings, we try to make our own fun.
With my daughter, the challenge is to get as many things into the basket without the old man spotting her. She is getting craftier as she gets older and uses package size and the little brother distraction technique like a seasoned veteran.

For my son, it's always some new way to attach himself to my wiggly-wheeled chariot without actually tipping it over. There's the 'side-cart hang and grab'. The 'front of the ship arch and perch'. The 'mine-cart simulator'. The 'don't let the catamaran tip over - lean and grasp'. And my favorite, 'the hood ornament'.

Each week we make our way through. Each of us selecting our weekly menu items. Trying to not crash into anything or annoy anyone too much. Keeping in mind that if it says anything but microwaveable, we could be in trouble.

The trip also begins with the knowledge that Daddy is a sucker for those toy vending machines at the exit. A ring. A compass. A glob of goo. That sticky stretchy hand thingy. Or do I dare, perchance to dream, that ever elusive mini-spy camera which has taunted me since my own upbringing.
We stare in wonderment at the possibilities of what the machines promise to spit out.
Clear little balls with multi-colored caps. Each filled with one of the potentially gratifying prizes displayed on the goodie filled glass jar.
But our hopes turned to skepticism.
For this is what we got.

Such joyful toys for the kiddies.
The gangsta, goateed, prison-hardened clown, legs crossed atop the 8 ball, scares the crap out of my 4 yr old.
And the poker chip will surely teach my 11 yr old the importance of hard earned money.
--The spy camera still eludes me.

Monday, January 14, 2008


The fine folks at Google Adsense are running an ad for "free, kicked in the balls videos" on my site today. ......Oh the humanity

Sunday, January 13, 2008


My son is turning 5 years old in a couple weeks.
I am his social coordinator.
I didn't apply for the gig, it was thrust upon me.
But where to go? What to do?

Well there's always Chuck E. Cheese.
150 amped up little brats, screaming for more tokens. The bells and sirens and bleeps and bloops. The teenager in the 5 foot rat suit scaring the crap out of little party goers, like Godzilla stomping through munchkinland. Oh, and the finest pizza shaped cardboard money can buy. OOOhh, sign me up.

There's mini-golf.
My son and his pre-school pals wielding clubs around like light sabers. Me,wading through the water traps for hours because little Jimmy with the wicked slice had to have the black ball. The eventual golf turned hockey game that breaks out because no one wants to wait their turn. And pullin kids down as they climb the rocks like fire ants in a flood. Pass on this one.

How 'bout bowling.
Yeah, here's a good idea. Trying to get these little tricycle motors to lift a ball half their body weight. Spending an hour tying up 22 tiny little shoes on 22 stinky little feet. Sending the 4 man mini-rescue posse to find Connor in the bathroom because it's his turn. Calling the attendant every 3rd frame because the ball is stuck half way down the lane. And let's not forget the impending trip to the alley game room, where I'll be pulling in chairs for boosting up these baby non-gamers who can't get Frogger across the road anyway. Head on- apply directly to the forehead. Pass again.

Maybe we'll just stay home.
Maybe, go to the park.
Maybe, I just won't tell him it's his birthday. He is only 5. Think he'll know?