We would be warm below the storm

The Team tries to live by a budget. We actually call it The Budget. In this day and age of $2.99 gas, high utility costs in light of 100+ heat, and a severe drought that requires extra water consumption, we try to save where we can. One way my Lovely Bride does this at the grocery store is purchasing off brand cereal. You know, private label kind, that are bastard versions of an original. At Kroger (where we shop) Cheerios becomes Tasteeos. Cocoa Puffs become Cocoa Crunchies, and Fruit Loops are Fruit Rings. When the name doesn't provide an immediate clue on what Kroger is ripping off, the picture on the front of the box does, which is why I was looking at an Octopus guarding a treasure of marshmallows on this fine morning.

I was baffled though. The cereal looked a lot like Lucky Charms. You had the cereal part and then little treasures that were marshmallowy goodness. Like Lucky Charms, right? But, an Octopus in place of Lucky, the sugary smack shilling leprechaun? I didn't get that connection. Still, it didn't matter. The Elder Boy dug the Octopus and was really into the cereal. Excited even. I'm not sure if the excitement was akin to a crack head wanting a fix, as this stuff is nothing but sugar. Or, was because he had help pick it out himself at the store. Whatever the reason, the Boy was motivated. So much so that he went into the kitchen and retrieved the milk, the cereal, a spoon, and then a bowl. That might not sound like much to you, but the bowls are up high in our casa. He then proceeded, with us (Me, My Lovely Bride, and Wyatt) less than 5 feet away, to make himself a bowl of cereal at our dining table. The milk was almost all the way full too (read: heavy,) and the Boy didn't spill any of it. No mess. Nice.

I was proud of the Boy. So, I got up from the sofa in the front room and went to the table and told him so. Gave him a hug. I was about to go get ready for work when he asked me to play I Spy with him. This is a curious eating time habit of the Elder Boy (and adopted by the Younger as well.) They like to play I Spy as we eat. Family bonding. He was asking me to play at this time because he wanted me to stay with him, which I got, and did. So we sat there and played a few rounds of I Spy. Quickly running out of things to Spy at the dinner table, we turned our attention to the Marshmallow Treasures box. The Boy had it in front of his bowl. You know, like kids will do, so he could look at all the cartoons and what not on the box as he ate. He was looking at the back of the box. I was looking at the front at that Octopus and again trying to figure out if it was in fact a Lucky Charms knock-off and if so, why the Octopus? The Boy is a cereal expert so I asked him if it was like Lucky Charms. He didn't really answer that but instead went into a story on what each marshmallow treasure was as he scooped up a heart that he said tasted like Applejacks.

Now I was confused. Applejacks? The Boy went on with his commentary as I studied the front of the box, looking at the underwater scene of the Octopus sitting on top of this treasure chest which was open underwater and full of the cereal (wouldn't it be really soggy under water?)

Being a dipshit, I often try to impart knowledge to the Boy(s) at odd times, like now, and decided to count the arms of the Octopus to illustrate why an Octopus was named an Octopus. You know, eight arms.

Getting the Boy's attention, I started to count as I pointed at each arm on the front of the box. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

6? I do suck at at math. So, I decided to give it another try. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

6! I looked at the box more closely to see if another arm or two was hidden behind the treasure, or down in the cereal. Nope. This Kroger brand of bastard Lucky Charms was being shilled by a 6 arm Octopus. I shit you not. Nice.

As the Boy looked at me, waiting for the pay-off to my goofy lesson, I couldn't stop thinking why? Was it a simple mistake? Perhaps an error born out of space necessity? Maybe a disgruntled employee at Kroger HQ giving the man the finger? The Boy kept waiting - What? "That's what we get for buying Kroger brand cereal."

Until I BLOG again...In our little hideaway beneath the waves.

The truth is the truth

Sunday afternoon coming down, hard. It was less than an hour since me and the Boy(s) had left church. Funnily enough (in that watching someone get kicked in the nuts way), that very day, was my first as a Shepherd, doing a summer rotation with the Scripture in Motion program. Care to guess the theme for my rotation? Choices. In fact that very morning the class had discussed the story of Jonah and the importance of making good choices.

Fast forward and I'm standing in 100+ heat in the middle of the Home Depot parking lot. I had just strapped the Younger Boy into his car seat and was coming back around to strap the Elder Boy into his. That's when I noticed Ethan fiddling around with his pocket. Thinking it was candy, and not wanting him to spoil his lunch, I said, "Boy, what do you have in your pocket?" He immediately placed his hands over his ears, like you would to block out a loud noise. Only he wasn't blocking out a noise, he was incriminating himself.

"Ethan," I said, "What is in your pocket?" No reply.
"Ethan." Slow. Measured. Getting angry. "What is in your pocket!?!"

Removing his hands from his ear, he looked at me, sadly and replied, "You...You...You'll be mad."

Great. That's what I want to hear. Marching on, "Ethan. Show me what is in your pocket - now."

Right about now, funny like on tv, but not really that funny in real life when it is a happening to you in a hot Home Depot parking lot, Wy Wy started his Little Brother comic relief routine by chiming in with, "What Ethan do?"

Trying to nip it in the bud, I said, "Wy Wy. Please be quiet for a minute. I need to talk to bubba."
"Ethan..." I said, "show me..." Wy interrupted me with a roar!
"I DON'T WANT TO BE QUIET!!!!!!!"
Patiently, I said, "Wyatt. Please be quiet for a minute."
"NO!" He yelled.
I decided to ignore him and continue my investigation, "Ethan..."
"NO...I not going..." Wy raged.
"...what is in your..." I continued.
"be quiet!" Wy yelled.
...pocket. You need to show me now, son." I finished. Wyatt just sat in his car seat looking mad, which I was about to become, as you see, Dear Reader, that is when the Elder Boy pulled out one of them there little tape measure key chain things. $2 bucks. Only we didn't pay $2 bucks for it. Nope. The Elder Boy had taken a five finger discount from Home Depot. Not nice. I took the tape measure from his hand and he quickly returned his hands to his ears. With the tape measure in my hand, I took a few steps back from the car and the open door and stared at it. I was stunned.

Ethan immediately started to sob and apologize, "I'm sorry!!!!!!!!!"
Wy, sensing something big was up, was right behind trying to figure out what was going on, "What Ethan do?"
"Daddy, I'm sorry!!!!!!!!!!" Ethan pleaded. "I'm sorry!!!!!!!!!"
Wyatt contined, "What Ethan do?" Then figuring it was something bad, imposed his sentence, "Ethan go to time out."
This would normally provoke Ethan to lash out at Wy, but he was to far gone to even notice, "Daddy...Daddy...Daddy, I'm sorry. Daddy?"

Me. I just stood there. Like a dip shit. Hot. Sweating. Seething. Silent. I'm ashamed to say, Dear Reader, my first instinct, when I came to my senses was to slap my first born son across the face, since he was strapped into his car seat and I couldn't get to his bottom. Thankfully, I let that thought pass. Instead, I just stood there, holding that damn tape measure, as Ethan continued to plead, "Daddy, I'm sorry. Sorry. Daddy. I'm sorry!!!!!!" Followed by Wyatt saying, "What Ethan do? Ethan what wrong?"

I kept thinking over and over, that the Boy knew from the get go, based on the covering of his ears that what he did was wrong. That he has made a bad choice. His apologies further proved that he knew that he had done wrong. Yet, he still, took something out of a Home Depot store, placed it in his pocket (while I was not looking) and walked out the door with it. There wasn't any excuse for it. He did it, hid it, and was trying to get away with it, until I caught him.

Ethan continued, "Daddy...I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry." At which point he started to cry so hard he could not longer apologize. Only sob. Wy kept up his incessant what's wrong with Ethan, what did Ethan do, Ethan needs to go to time out, questioning and comments, and I kept standing in that hell of a Home Depot parking lot trying to figure out what I should do in this situation.

Should I unstrap both of the Boy(s), and drag them (kicking and screaming I'm sure) across the parking lot into the store, find the manager on duty, and have Ethan give back the tape measure and apologize. Probably. But I didn't do that. No. The ragged truth is that I was afraid of what I might do if either Boy gave me any resistance. I was that upset. I declared myself unsafe. What then? I couldn't keep the tape measure. That would be a bad message to send to the Boy. Plus, I wanted to return it right then and there. I wanted the offending trinket gone. I was about to walk across the parking lot into the store and return it myself when I realized that leaving the Boy(s) in a parked car in 100+ heat was not a grand idea. On hindsight, what I should have done was drive the Boy(s) home, leave Wy with My Lovely Bride, get back into the car and return with Ethan so he could give the tape measure back and apologize. Alas, I'm not that smart in real time, perhaps because of the heat, or more than likely because I'm a dipshit. Instead, I saw a Home Depot employee across the parking lot, gathering up shopping carts, and decided I would return the tape measure to him. Slowly I walked across that lot in that blinding heat, so hot that the poor guy gathering the carts actually winced when his bare arm touched the hot metal of one of those carts. Still rubbing his arm, he eyed me warily as I approched.

"Hello. I'm sorry to bother you," I said, as I extended my hand with the tape measure. "My Boy took this from your store. I'm very sorry. Can you take it back inside and return it for me?" Waiting for his answer, it dawned on me that I was unable to even say the word steal to this guy. Some half ass knee jerk trying to protect Ethan reflex? Or was I just embarrassed by his actions? The way I phrased it though, it was like he took it by accident. He did not. By the way he looked at me, he could give a shit whether Ethan took it on purpose or by accident. He looked at me like I was nuts to take the time to walk across the parking lot and return a $2 tape measure.

"Aaaaaaa. Sure." He said, with a strange, are you messing with me grin, "I can take it back inside...for you. No problem."

All business, I replied, "Thank you. I'm sorry for what my Boy did."

Smiling again, he said, "Yeah. No problem - sir. Happens all the time."

"I'm sure it does, but that doesn't make it right."

That got another strange look from him. "Have a nice day," I said, as I turned and took the long walk back to the car. Ethan was crying. Wy was still alternating between questions and his time out judgment. Me. I was still in shock, as I strapped myself into my car seat. Ethan quit crying long enough to plead me to not tell his Mom. He then asked for me to not call the police, because he did not want to go to jail. I couldn't muster a reply. All I could think was, Indeed.

A day removed from the above, and I'm still upset with Ethan's actions. Did I overreact. Probably. My Lovely Bride thinks so, and thinks I need to let it go, among other things. She's probably right. She usually is.

Until I BLOG again...Or the truth is surely a lie.

Ego tripping at the gates of hell.

On Sunday, I was in my office. Office in the Fonzie sense. The bathroom. My Lovely Bride was long gone for morning services at church. Ethan was presiding over his own version of the land before time in the den. Wy, well he was looking for me.

Wy: "Dad-E. R-U?"
Please pardon my hooked on phonics transcription of Wy, as regular readers know, this here BLOG is a chronicle for The Team in the Buck Rogers Future. A remember when then. I type it that way because I want to play Jim Croce and save time in the bottle.

Me: "I'm in here Wy Wy, in the bathroom."

At which point, Wy fiddles around with the knob a few moments before he gets the door open. It is not locked. I gave up on locking the door a long time ago, because there are few things worse than a small child on the other side of a locked bathroom door when you are on the other side trying to take a shit. First, it is annoying. Second, it is hard to get up and unlock the door to get them to stop banging and crying when you are in the middle of said shit. With the door opened, Wy comes strutting into my office. Strutting is the only way to describe this curious happy walk he likes to do when he's in a good mood or excited.

Wy: "What U doin' Daaaaa!"

Mind you I'm sitting on the stool, taking a shit. It is pretty obvious what I'm doing, but the Boy is only 2 1/2 and still poops in his diaper so I state the obvious.

Me: "I'm using the bathroom."

Wy: "U poo poo?"

Me: "Yes. Daddy is pooping."

Wy: "Poo POO YUK-EE!!!!"

I didn't really have a come back for that one, so, I let it pass. Pooping is kind of 'yuk-ee' but it is a fact of life. We all poop. I don't want to freak the Boy out by concuring the 'yuk-ee-ness' of defecation since he's on the edge of potty training. Wy isn't bothered by my lack of response though. He's busy climbing up onto the stool that we have in front of the bathroom sink so the Boy(s) can wash their hands and brush their teeth. Wy is doing neither of these activities though. He's using this higher perch to look down at me with a shit eating grin. I should also add that he is uncomfortably close to me. An arm length. Dig the picture (below). Imagine Wy standing on the stool instead of sitting, and me in place of E.



Not sure what he is up too (I'm actually afraid he might be thinking of jumping off the stool onto me, and well I'm taking a shit,) I decide to ignore him, and go back to the book I'm reading. When Wy had entered the bathroom, I had lowered that book to my lap which had covered up my genitalia. Reading it again, I bring it up closer to my face, and eyes, since I'm not wearing my glasses. This exposes my genitalia to Wy who is still looking at me with his shit eating grin.

Wy: "WOW!"

Me: "What?"

Wy: "DAAA!" In a booming, top of his lungs, excited voice, "'UR ENIS EEL-EE BIG!"
That Dear Readers translates to, DAD! YOUR PENIS IS REALLY BIG!

Full disclosure. My penis isn't that big. I also didn't have what Ethan would call a long penis or a 'election'. Nope it was just my average taking a poop penis. Nothing special. Yet, the Boy was really impressed, which I'm sad to say, gave me a slight ego boost. Well, until I realized he's 2 1/2 and is used to looking at his own penis, which because of his SHITTY Doctor (Dr. Haygood!) isn't really even circumcized. Ego trip over, I decided to again ignore Wy, but in the end that was impossible.

You see Dear Reader, a few seconds later, Wy, leaning over toward me on his stool, tipped it over, and fell onto my 'large' penis, and then rolled off onto the magazine rack that is next to our shitter. Nice.

Until I BLOG again...I was waiting on a moment.