Not exactly a glass slipper, but it'll do

Let this post serve as a fitting tribute this Memorial Day to all those comical, non-threatening pirates who have fallen over the years in service to our amusement.

To continue my service to those lucky folks who will become new parents in the future, I forewarn you of yet another type of event you may surprisingly come to know as pretty normal.

Just as your daughter will undoubtedly one day attempt to blind you in one eye just to see you wear an eyepatch (she fails), she will continue her apparent obsession with pirate accoutrement by fashioning herself a peg leg out of whatever material is handy, up to and including your cup.*

To be fair to your future children, in their defense, you did leave that cup out. Why wouldn't you expect to get a little foot in it? Come on-- you're better than that.

Furthermore, should you go on to create a blog publicly mocking your children, even if you think you can't come up with a post on a day when you get to sleep in past noon, just relax, and inspiration will come... inspiration will come.


* To J-, who is currently working out over at my parents' house: in case you're enjoying a refreshing beverage later until you realize your cup smells like feet, here's proof it was the baby's fault, not mine. This time.

Teach a man to fish...

As I sit here typing a blog post while D- happily vacuums, I'm starting to think that Cinderella's stepmother was onto something. Cindy just had a bad attitude-- she wasn't a team player. Let's all do our best to investigate and rewrite that history for the stepmother's sake-- just because Cinderella got to become queen doesn't mean we should all have only one side of the story.

I mean, what became of all those loyal talking animals of hers? I doubt she would let them cramp her style once she had some human friends (and slaves). I'm sure there's some horrible dirt to be dug here, worth at least one Lifetime Original Movie and a big fat check.

Anyway, welcome back from Tangent Land...

Now that D-'s got vacuuming down, I just need to teach M- better broom-handling skills, and then we can all move on to mopping, scrubbing, and dusting.

It's the least they can do after waking me up (in tag-team fashion) this morning at 5:45 (hence this scattershot, sub-par post). On the bright side, I got to say goodbye to J-, I suppose. Still, I have a headache in my temples that is certainly not being assuaged by the sound of a plastic hammer banging a scrap of wood-- D- has finished vacuuming and moved on to simple home repairs.

Hmmmm... maybe I could stop handing him "pretend nails" on demand for him to "make magic with this wood" and instead hand him my drill, level, real nails, and all these pictures I'm supposed to hang. On second thought, I don't want them all hung 4 feet off the floor, giving him a step stool wouldn't be safe, and if I felt like helping him, I'd probably be doing it myself in the first place.

I'm a bad, bad, lazy person. But whaddya gonna do?

Do the sweeping, Cinderelly

Apparently M- read my dishwasher post and is trying to pitch in to earn my love. Good girl!

Note: This wasn't my idea-- she grabbed the broom out of the closet when I opened it, as she often does, but this time she took off across the house actually trying to sweep. After taking this picture, I traded her for a more manageable hand broom, so she could push crumbs around the floor for a few minutes. I don't think she fully understood the purpose of this activity, but then it took me awhile, too.

10 reasons my 3-year-old son may be homosexual

Like most fathers (says I), I have been forced now and then to consider whether my son may turn out to be homosexual. I figure I may as well brace myself for the revelation, should it ever come. Not that there's anything wrong with it, of course. I just don't want to have to have that kind of talk with him when he gets to a certain age.

For your amusement, here are 10 reasons why my 3-year-old son may be a homosexual [see 10 reasons he may not be]:

1. He is unusually empathetic.

2. When he was 1, he had a months-long obsession with a horrendously girly romance novel my wife left laying around. He would sit somewhere and read it (right side up or otherwise) frequently during the day and keep it next to his pillow when sleeping.

3. He's a pretty good dancer, at least for a three-year-old. The Dance Class Fiasco will be another post.

4. Probably based solely on the relative intensity and vocalization regarding my wife's versus my favorite colors, he has for a long time selected pink as his favorite color.

5. He really likes purses. A lot.

6. He spent a few days recently declaring he was "an evil queen", defying my pointed questions as to whether or not he was actually an evil king.

7. He's extremely neat for a three-year-old.

8. All signs have thus far pointed to his being very into dolls. Before you ask, yes, he was into dolls even before his sister came around.

9. He has always greatly enjoyed the story of Cinderella. He originally asked to be read it based on the cover, and the fact that it was A Book, but then he began asking for it by name, and we had to read it (with the required Sense of Timeless Wonder voice) many, many times. I thought it might become his Next Big Thing, until shuffling it towards the back of his hundreds of books broke the cycle of obsession. This year, though, he noticed that J- has the movie on DVD, and he actually sat quietly through the whole movie. Hmmm.

10. My wife has helped me appreciate way too many chick flicks for me to be an entirely pure role model. As it is, my very broad musical tastes incorporate quite a few embarrassingly sappy and girly songs along with the classic rock, hard-core rap, and everything else I've been known to listen to and even sing along with. Of course, I try my best to make catching me doing this be as easy as mugging a leprechaun.

I may just have to settle for metrosexuality.