Spay your dogs, Spray your children
You'd think that an hour at the vet's with two dogs a cat a sister and two Maters would tire out a kid, but Ryan Would Not Be Napped on Saturday, killing our plans to go to the county fair after he'd woken up since he had never gone to a sleep from which to wake up and we're a very literal couple of folks when it comes to planning our days (we watched Favre's silly pre-season debut as a Jet against the Redskins, instead).
The dogs smell like a funky honey-flavored cajun swamp after a long-overdue bath in the backyard, with my trusty assistant failing to both (1) warn me that I was kneeling on a wasp and (2) remind me that mosquitoes think he tastes like a lemon meringue pie:
"Daddy, I have a bug bite on my knee!" he calls from the treehouse deep in the 'woods'.
"Yeah, well, come on down and we'll compare with my bee sting."
He trods over, looking like a leper with acne. So I did what any conscientious father would do:
Carried him to Mommy.
She said she counted 17 bites on his hands, arms, and legs.
I'm expecting a letter in the mail from Child Services. Although he didn't seem all that bothered by them. He seems more proud of his owies than concerned.
Sunday the entire family took a nice long stroll with Grandad, with Erin enjoying herself both in the wagon and on Mommy's nuzzlepods. After a lovely lunch on the front porch featuring gespacho and broccoli in Erin's hair, it was Erin's turn to not nap, aided by the neighbor's rented slip-n-screech water slide tower thing for a half-million birthday-celebrating children. I hung out with her downstairs watching "The Incredibles" to give Ainsley 45 minutes of snoozers before I had to go out to Bolling DV quarters for more new-job orientation, which entailed me finding a dead mouse behind our guests' rooms, as well as sweeping and picking weeds out of the side yard to pretty it up before they arrived. I also got to drive a three-star general's car back to the base (the security guards tend to stand a little straighter when they see his sticker in the window).
I got home late to learn that Ryan had taken a half-gainer off the side of the couch and landed on his head and bloodied his nose. So we're pretty much going to keep him inside in a deet-soaked plastic bubble until he's 22 and a half.
The dogs smell like a funky honey-flavored cajun swamp after a long-overdue bath in the backyard, with my trusty assistant failing to both (1) warn me that I was kneeling on a wasp and (2) remind me that mosquitoes think he tastes like a lemon meringue pie:
"Daddy, I have a bug bite on my knee!" he calls from the treehouse deep in the 'woods'.
"Yeah, well, come on down and we'll compare with my bee sting."
He trods over, looking like a leper with acne. So I did what any conscientious father would do:
Carried him to Mommy.
She said she counted 17 bites on his hands, arms, and legs.
I'm expecting a letter in the mail from Child Services. Although he didn't seem all that bothered by them. He seems more proud of his owies than concerned.
Sunday the entire family took a nice long stroll with Grandad, with Erin enjoying herself both in the wagon and on Mommy's nuzzlepods. After a lovely lunch on the front porch featuring gespacho and broccoli in Erin's hair, it was Erin's turn to not nap, aided by the neighbor's rented slip-n-screech water slide tower thing for a half-million birthday-celebrating children. I hung out with her downstairs watching "The Incredibles" to give Ainsley 45 minutes of snoozers before I had to go out to Bolling DV quarters for more new-job orientation, which entailed me finding a dead mouse behind our guests' rooms, as well as sweeping and picking weeds out of the side yard to pretty it up before they arrived. I also got to drive a three-star general's car back to the base (the security guards tend to stand a little straighter when they see his sticker in the window).
I got home late to learn that Ryan had taken a half-gainer off the side of the couch and landed on his head and bloodied his nose. So we're pretty much going to keep him inside in a deet-soaked plastic bubble until he's 22 and a half.
posted by Dan at 10:19 PM
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