Problems

Curtis: "Dad, I have a problem. My problem is -- I don't know how to do karate."

Uncle Wade's Here!

For years my brother has threatened to show up at my house and work a little back-woods magic to embarrass me in front of my neighbors. He's never followed through...until today.

I drove home from church this afternoon to this:

I sometimes wonder where that kid came from.

"F" is for Family (or Freaky)

Today was "F" day at preschool.

Ms. Heather has a daily routine for her students. They walk in, find their spot at a table, and write their name on a slip of paper. Once finished, they bring their names to the front of the class and choose whether to put their name in the Yes column or the No column....depending on their answer to the Question of the Day.

Today's question: "Do you have a little brother or sister?"

The correct answer: No

Curtis' answer: Yes

Ms. Heather kindly tried to reassure the lad that he did not have any little siblings. To which he replied (quite forcefully), "Marble Joe is very, very small!"

Wow. I thought he'd forgotten about Marble Joe. Apparently not. To make things more interesting, Marble Joe had stowed away to preschool in Curtis' backpack as well. And...Curtis was fairly intent on showing Marble Joe to everyone at Show-and-Tell that very day. Oh dear.

I departed and left Ms. Heather on her own to deal with my child's delusions. Fair? Perhaps not. She later told me that she was slightly concerned that the other children would force Curtis to defend his belief about his "little brother" (which could be bad for all involved) but was surprised when all 10 of them nodded along with Curtis' presentation of his "F"amily.

Go figure.

I Wish I Could Say This Was For Halloween

The Tale of Halloween Toil

Once upon a time, in a home not too far away, there lived three beautiful children and their adoring parents. One day the oldest child, Lindy, approached her mother with an idea.

"Mother dear, I would just LOVE to be a pirate for Halloween this year. Not an ugly, mean pirate, but a nice beautiful pirate. Can I, can I, pleeeeeaaaaaase?"

"Of course," the mother said, "I think your eye-rolling, scowling pre-teeness is exactly perfect for a pirate costume!"

Lindy rolled her eyes towards her mother and bounded happily away. No costume at the stores or online would satisfy the required needs of Lindy's costume. During a quick trip to the local lobby of hobbies, the "perfect" costume pattern was chosen, and her mother soon toiled away to create a "nice and beautiful" pirate costume for her beloved eldest daughter.

When Ellie, the middle child, saw the completed pirate costume, she begged, "Oh please, mother, may I also have the costume of my dreams? A purple cheerleader costume with big shiny pom-poms, and a large purple bow in my hair?"

"I would just LOVE to help you find this purple costume. Even if it means I must stitch every stitch myself...let's DO IT!" her mother cooed, as she vomited a little in her mouth.

And it was soon(ish) done. A fantastically purple cheerleading costume and one bouncy, jumping, cheerful girl to don it. (Along with some big shiny pom-poms, courtesy of the Searle girls.)

As the females around him chatted incessantly about girly costume matters, Curtis, the youngest and only boy in the family, decided to let his mother pick up whatever she could find at Costco. 

"Oh, thank heavens for little boys." the mother sighed as she grabbed the first costume she could find. 

And Curtis was thrilled, for this particular costume came with an eye patch, earring, and SWORD (his love of weaponry being the clincher). He expressed his appreciation by offering his mother pirate grimaces rather than smiles in practically every photo she took.

The children were soon ready for the neighborhood Trunk-or-Treat. Things were touch-and-go for a moment as the "nice" pirate and the "I'm-so-tough-I-could-cut-my-own-throat" pirate may have had some differences of opinions.

But they soon found common ground as they turned their wretched pirate-ness on the happy cheerleader. 

But, since she was really only there to cheer on their piratical adventures, they soon welcomed her into their scurvy crew.

As the three children skipped happily down the street toward the potential treasure-trove of sugary goodness, their mother contentedly nursed the pin-prick wounds on her fingers, wiped the sweat from her brow, and vowed to NEVER sew another Halloween costume again.

The End.