Save you from yourself

I should have said no. Sweet mother of all that is good, I had sat in that very dining room a week in the rearview and told myself that The Black Eyed Pea sucked. That I should never come back. Kids eat free my ass, shitty service exacts its own price which affirms yet again, nothing in this world is truly free.

But there I sat, ever the dumbass, in the kids eat free ghetto, surrounded by all these kids who weren't eating for free. We had been waiting 40 long minutes in a not so busy restaurant for an order that consisted of two hamburgers for the Boy(s), pot roast for my Lovely Bride, and my abortion of a choice, sirloin steak (which was nothing more than a hamburger patty on a bed of rice with gravy on top.) And for that gastronomical treat, we were going to pay $2 more than what the Boy(s) hamburger plate would have cost, if it weren't free.

At the 45 minute mark I stood, and pushed away from the table and said to my Lovely Bride, "I'm done, let's get the Boy(s) McDonalds and Thai food for us." She gave me a look harsher than her words could ever be in a public restaurant and said, "No." If that wasn't enough the Boy(s) not really getting why I was angry started imploring me to 'not leave.' So I sat back down, impotent, and said to myself over and over, I should have said no.

After the food arrived (I think total wait time was 50 minutes but I might be embellishing a bit because The Black Eyed Pea sucks) and we had finished our fine meal, I decided to split. I had met the Team there, so I had my own car. I figured my Lovely Bride could handle the bill, and the issue with the kids being charged for their free meal. I asked the Boy(s) if they would like to go home with me. As usual the Elder Boy wanted to decamp with his Dear Old Dad, while the Little Warrior decided to stick close to his Mom.

On our way home, driving down a dark side road, apropos of nothing, Ethan asked me, "Is Pops asleep?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is Pops asleep...now. It's dark outside."

Looking at the clock in my XTerra I noted it was only 7:15pm, and remembered that my Dad was in Mississippi on business.

"Pops is in Mississippi this week. That's a state. Like Texas or Oklahoma. He's probably at dinner now, for business. Pops does that a lot when he travels. He'll take the guys from the Steel Mill out for dinner with their wives."

Silence followed, which was odd, because the Elder Boy is normally relentless with his questions. I was about to ask him if he was ok, his silence was so disquieting in the darkness of the car, when when he said, "Pops doesn't have a wife."

Shocked by his lucidity as well as saddened by what he said I replied, "No, Son, Pops doesn't have a wife. Granny died ."

"He doesn't have Gypsy either. She died."

"Yes, Gypsy did die."

"He doesn't have that, that...as he struggled to remember the name...that...cat either."

"Dallas. That cat was named Dallas. No Dallas died too."

We rode in silence for a few more blocks, me lost in somber thoughts when it dawned on me that I needed to offer up something more - be his Dad.

"Son, are you worried about Pops? Are you afraid that he is lonely?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sure Pops misses Granny. And Gypsy. And the cat, Dallas. He is sad at times, and maybe lonely sometimes, but he has a lot of friends in Houston and has work and..."

"Pops should come and live with us."

That Dear Reader is straight out of the mouth of a Boy who will be five years old tomorrow. Sweet mother of all that is good, one of the hardest things about being a breeder is seeing what you feel are your worst traits in them.

Until I BLOG again... You get so lost inside your head Like no one else

All right stop collaborate and listen

When the weather outside is frightful, the Boy(s) like nothing better than to hunker down with a mug of hot chocolate. The only problem is they don't really like it all that hot, so making hot chocolate is harder than you might think. In fact, if you don't perfectly time getting the kettle off the stove, you have to add ice to their drink.

Actually, you always have to add ice to The Little Warrior's mug. Anything more than tepid and he loses it. I've tried to reason with the Boy, telling him, "Wy Wy, you wanted hot chocolate. If I add ice, you're drinking chocolate milk." Unfortunately logic is lost on Wy, who at three, can be quite unreasonable. In fact, if I'm not careful my argument can push him into a full-on Sarah Heartburn* which I always fear will cause him to spill his mug of hot chocolate on the sofa, or rug.

The Elder Boy is another story, he's like Goldilocks.

The other morning, I had just delivered E a mug of hot chocolate. Since I was multi-tasking, I had screwed up my timing on the kettle. It was hot. So hot that I had to eventually grab three pieces of ice from the ice maker in our refrigerator's freezer compartment to get the Boy's mug just right. After a quick taste test, I placed his mug on the rug which is where he sat, next to his Mom, watching Perils of Penelope Pitstop. They both really dig that cartoon.

I left them to their Penelope bonding and went back to the front room and got on the computer. Typing an email I heard the following exchange, which, well, it is quintessential Boy #1.

"Mom, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Why do they call them ice cubes...? They aren't square?"

Until I BLOG again... Ice is back with my brand new invention

*Sarah Heartburn is a code name for the child version of My Lovely Bride who was infamous for throwing herself onto the ground and flailing around when something did not go her way.