It was always broccoli for me

Caleb: I want a cookie.
Neesha: You can have a cookie after you eat your pizza.

In our defense, we realize how bad this sounds [is].

mw

Laptop + water = humility

Saturday afternoon. Neesha is finishing up dinner for a party that is supposed to begin in the next hour or so. I'm in charge of making sure the kids don't climb into the oven when it is open. Or closed. To that end, The Boy is playing with his cars on the counter, The Queen is sitting in her Bumbo throne next to him, and I'm sitting between the two. To my side is the open laptop, deliberately placed out of The Queen's reach. Neesha asks me to bring something upstairs from our cold storage. I set down a glass of water between The Queen and the laptop, pick up The Boy (he has an abnormal fascination with our cold storage, despite all I've told him about the monsters and what they do to little boys' toy cars) and head downstairs.

When I get to the basement I hear Neesha yell. My first thought is that she has fallen into the oven, despite all the training films. I run upstairs to see her holding the laptop over the counter, water raining from the keyboard. My glass is laying on the counter at the foot of the Bumbo, conspicuously empty. The Queen, brow furrowed in curiosity, is watching her mother frantically trying to dry the laptop with some paper towels.

I understand that water and laptops do not play well together, so I started to think about all the critical content we stood to lose.

• A talk on humility Neesha had spent two weeks preparing for the following day
• All of our finances
  
• Eight years worth of personal study
  
• 75GB of music
• Eight years of pictures
• The next great American novel
• Conclusive evidence of the government's culpability in the cattle mutilations of the 1950s and their covering up Mothman
  

We quickly turned off the laptop, tipped it upside down so the water could drain out through the keyboard, and left it that way for the length of the dinner party. That night, we turned it on and everything worked just fine, except we lost the novel (Melville and Hemingway never had to work under these deplorable conditions) and the conspiracy theory (I now suspect The Queen of being a government agent, and probably a Republican). We breathed easier and learned that we have to think tactically to at least two levels when keeping objects out of The Queen's Radius of Destruction.

Monday night. I sit down in the same chair at the counter after dinner. The Boy is playing with his cars on the counter. Next to him, The Queen is sitting in her Bumbo throne. To my side is the open laptop, deliberately placed out of The Queen's reach. I set a glass of milk down in front of me, coincidentally between The Queen and the laptop, unaware that she is carefully watching. The moment I let go of the glass, she lunges for it, tipping it toward the laptop.

Gratefully, she did not bring her A game. The glass teeters momentarily before settling upright on the counter. I move the glass before she can lunge again, having just learned that I need to think tactically to at least two levels when keeping objects out of the The Queen's Radius of Destruction.

mw

More's the pity

Neesha: *reading a headline* Huntsman proposes jolt for the economy.
Mark: Jolt? Like the energy drink?
Neesha: I don't think so.
Mark: So the governor's solution for the economy doesn't include highly-caffeinated beverages?

mw

A finely-honed machine am I

In the past month:

• The Boy: two colds and three bouts of vomiting
• Ainsley: only one cold, but the poor thing has only been alive for seven weeks
• Neesha: two colds and one husband
• This guy: um...he's not well, but his candidate was just elected president
• Me: nothing. I am superhuman.

mw

Pack's Pumpkin Patch

m&n

Ego? What ego? pt. II

Monday's child is fair of face.
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe.
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving.
Saturday's child works hard for his living.
But a child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blythe, and good and gay.

It's an old nursery rhyme. I don't remember how it came up, but Neesha was reciting it yesterday morning, which made us wonder where our family members fit into the mix. Caleb was a Sunday child, and Ainsley was a Tuesday baby. These were easy enough for us both to remember, but we had to pull up the computer's calendar to see on which days of the week Neesha (Friday in 1981) and I (Wednesday in 1979) were born.

Neesha: Were you born in 1980 or 2099?
Mark: Huh?
Neesha: The calendar only goes back to 1980, then jumps to 2099. I guess that means you are older than the computer can calculate.

Wednesday's child, indeed.

mw

Ego? What ego?

I normally sleep in a pair of blue basketball shorts and a t-shirt with the John Maynard Keynes quote, "In the long run, we are all dead" on the back which I won at a WSU economics party {insert nerd jokes here}. I share this with you to deepen our relationship and to explain why this morning, when I woke to the first snow of the season, I was looking for additional clothing to wear before I went downstairs with The Boy. What I found was an old pair of tan pajamma pants and my lucky ACE sweatshirt, light gray. The story behind the pajamma pants is that they are about two inches too short in the legs and about ten inches too wide in the waist. Similarly, the sweatshirt is two inches too short in the trunk and the sleeves, but is too small across the shoulders.

Me: I look kind of funny.
Neesha: Mark, nothing you have on right now fits you.
Me: What do you expect? It's hard to fit my amazing physique.

*long pause; longer than appropriate, if you ask me*

Neesha: You do have an amazing physique.

mw

This train of thought was derailed at the station

Caleb: Hey, mommy?
Neesha: Yes?

*pause*

Caleb: What?

mw

Biden: His Time (I couldn't resist)

This morning I was going through the headlines while listening to SPOGG's grammatically incorrect playlist.

Mark: Oh, crap!
Neesha: What?
Mark: Obama picked Biden.

Paul McCartney: "Live and let die!"

We didn't receive the text message, but I imagine it ended, "Not the best. Not the worst. Just what we're stuck with." Can't be a good sign.

mw

At the grocery store...

Neesha: Caleb, whiney boys don't get suckers in the car.
Caleb: Mommy! I want to whine!

mw

She's coming around

Less than two minutes ago I quoted a line from Big Trouble in Little China, a movie the Lovely and Talented Wife has sworn against.

She laughed.

Score one for the y chromosone.

mw

Moon Lake

We had our 29th annual Moon Lake excursion over Father's Day weekend.

Breakfast on the first morning. Caleb's breakfast, that is. The rest of us had biscuits and gravy.Caleb helping Daddy stake the canopy into the sand on the beach.
The remains of the canopy on the beach.Mark grew up playing with his cousins every year on this rock just above the campsite. This year, he introduced Caleb into the club.Playing with Boppa Caleb's favorite activity was collecting rocks and then throwing them in the lake.
This was a much needed break and we had a great time!

Neesha

Good memories and friends

On my bedside table is a picture from our wedding day. While we were taking pictures at the Bountiful Temple, I commented to one of my buddies that I had not had breakfast yet. He disappeared with the rest of my groomsmen and returned 20 minutes later with a box of donuts from Carmacks (alas, not the real Carmacks). We couldn't resist the opportunity, and our photographer captured the moment for us. In retrospect, it maybe wasn't the best idea, though it remains one of my favorite memories from the day.

Caleb noticed the picture the other day, and gave a quick roll call.

Caleb: Who that?
Neesha: That's Matt. I don't think you've met him.
Caleb: Who that?
Neesha: That's Durrant. Do you know who that is?
Caleb: Daddy!
Neesha: Do you know who that is?
Caleb: Mommy!
Neesha: Good. And that...
Caleb: Simon!
Neesha: Very good! Who is Simon?
Caleb: Bennett's house!

mw

We've been married for some time

You know your wife is having an impact on the way you think and feel about things when, while trimming the lawn, you decapitate one of her tulips and you instantly feel bad for the lost flower, and you wonder if there is something you can do to make it better.

You know your wife still has a lot of work to do with you if you then try to fix said tulip using super glue and duct tape, thinking she may not notice.

mw

They should really consider renaming some candies

We are not above bribing our children. I am, in fact, the sort of father who is willing to buy his way into the hearts of his offspring. At this point, it is only Caleb who is able to cash in, but I have already cut a few deals with Ainsley. For instance, I promised her a pony if she delays her arrival past the Utah vs. Michigan game this fall. Two ponies if she will be born on a Monday afternoon so I get the full week off of work.

For Caleb, the stakes aren't quite as high. A half-sippy of chocolate milk if he'll eat his hamburger, a chip dipped in Queso for every two bites of dinner. Is it bad parenting? Perhaps, but I know most of you are going through your own experiences as a mom or dad right now, remembering the times you're role resembled that of bookie more than parent.

Probably the most frequent bargain we strike with The Boy is a package of Smarties if he keeps his shoes on the entire time at the grocery store. In defense of bribing my children, Caleb has also developed a sense of fairplay. When he takes a shoe off, or both shoes, or both shoes, both socks, a pair of pants, and starts working on his diaper, he will announce, somewhat dejectedly, "No Smarties." It's very cute and I'm convinced is a play on his part for us to give him the Smarties anyway.

Well, tragedy struck this past week at the grocery store, and Dick's in Bountiful stopped giving away individual packages of Smarties. Not to be refused, the Lovely and Talented Wife looked to buy a large bag full of Smarties, realizing that, if she carried one or two packages in the diaper bag she could employ the same carrot at Target, at Costco, everywhere! No longer would sugar-coated bribery be limited to the confines of the grocery store checkout line, but it could now permeate every aspect of Caleb's social and cognitive development. So long, Doctor Spock; Babywise, farewell! Your services are no longer required. She would now have two pounds of Smarties to govern our child's behavior like a true B.F. Skinner disciple! She raced her grocery cart to the candy aisle, weaving in and out of soccer moms like a blonde Danica Patrick, Caleb screaming delightedly all the while, "Run away!" Frantically she searched the shelves, flinging bags of candy to the floor as snot-nosed children cowered in fear. Ultimately, she realized the truth of the matter: not only did Dick's not carry individual packages of Smarties, they also did not carry them in large bags. As she stood in the wreckage formerly known as aisle nine, she considered her options. Murder? Too Shakespearean. Arson? Too conspicuous.

Then, like a Republican who just discovered a new tax cut, she saw her solution. There, at her feet, lay a package of suckers. She didn't need Smarties. Triumphantly, she carried the bag to the front of the store, swiped her credit card, and walked into the sunset, suckers, boy, shoes and all.

The name on the bag of suckers? Dum-Dums.

mw

"You Take Your Head Off One More Time, and I'll Take it Away From You"

Caleb wanted to play outside this afternoon. Being the good father that I am, I insisted that he put on his shoes or his sandals before doing so. Once that was finished, we had the following conversation.

Caleb: No jacket.
Me: Nope, you don't need to wear a jacket. It's warm outside, today.
Caleb: No coat.
Me: You don't have to wear a coat, either.
Caleb: Shirt, on.
Me: Yes, you do need to wear your shirt.
Caleb: Pants, on.
Me: Uh huh, pants too.
Caleb: Head, on.
Me (and Neesha who overheard the entire thing): *laughing uncontrollably as he walked out the door wearing his shirt and pants with his hands on top of his head*

m&n

Tom Cruise, Eat Your Heart Out

The other morning, Caleb's diaper erupted and required immediate changing. Since Neesha only had a few things left to do before taking him upstairs for a bath, she quickly changed the diaper but didn't put him in anything else before turning him loose in the family room. A few minutes passed, and The Boy managed to put on his shoes, grab his sunglasses and start dancing in the entryway.



mw

It's What's For Dinner

Neesha: What would you like for dinner?
Caleb: Bar-de-too sauce! (barbeque)
Neesha: Oh...would you like something to go with it?
Caleb: Ketchup!

*later that night*

Neesha: Are you hungry?
*Caleb nods*
Neesha: Would you like a peanut butter sandwich?
Caleb: No.
Neesha: Would you like chicken nuggets?
Caleb: No. Zebra.
*blink, blink*
Neesha: We don't have any zebra, honey.
Caleb: Horsey.
Neesha: We don't have a horsey, either.
Caleb: Puppy!
Neesha: Puppy?
Caleb: Yellow puppy!

mw

Barbie Starts Blogging

Last Sunday morning I was reading Caleb All By Myself from the Little Critter series and I noticed that, on the back flap, the publisher had listed several other children's titles. In reading through these, I came across the Barbie section, which contained several predictable titles. Barbie Loves Ballet, Barbie Loves Cheerleading, Barbie Loves Ponies, etc. Through the course of the next day or two, Neesha and I made up our own Barbie titles. Here is an example:

1. Barbie Gets Cut From the Cheer Squad
2. Barbie Falls Off the Pony
   
3. Barbie and the Stimulated Mind
   
4. Barbie: Tone Deaf and Happy
5. Barbie Hires a Sherpa
6. Barbie Rents a Mule (the exciting sequel to No. 3)
   
7. Barbie: Unboxed and Uncircled
8. Barbie Shares a Moment
9. Barbie's Bouncing Sing-a-Long
10. Barbie and the Plasticene Personality
11. Barbie Achieves Superficiality
    
12. Barbie: Ten Feet Tall and Childproof
13. Barbie Goes Tractor Tipping
    
14. Barbie Soothes Her Rusty Bumper (ka-chow!)
    
15. Barbie Meets the Semi Truck
    

m&n

Tractor Tipping

Neesha saw Caleb standing some of his cars on end and asked him what he was doing. He very matter-of-factly stated, "Tractor tipping."



Obivously, this photo is staged, but it captures the essence of what he was doing.

mw