Let’s play a quick trivia game

Who, flushed their underwear down the toilet?

HINT: When asked “Why would you do that” an answer of “I don’t know” was given.

So far there have been no ill effects. Probably since his underwear is smaller by volume then what I usually use in TP on my own ass. It doesn’t dissolve but as long as it leaves the internal plumbing of our house we’re OK. I flushed the toilet 10 times and ran the bathtub for 30min. That should have been enough to ensure proper exodus of the rouge mini-manties. Wish us luck, plumber’s don’t come cheap.

There’s somthing in the air

We here at the empire have a variation on the “Pull my finger” gag. What happens is Matthew pulls all my fingers 1 by 1 and I make a fart sound with my mouth as he goes along. He finds this to be hilarious. So today he was playing this with Maya. He was pulling her fingers one by one and she just looked down confused and a little uncomfortable with her man-handed brother tugging at her baby knuckles. I put a stop to it: “Matthew you can’t fart your sister, she’s too little you could hurt her. You can only fart mommy and daddy.” Perplexed, he looks back at me and says “But daddy…… mommy doesn’t fart”

We laughed so hard we both almost farted. Yes, he is correct. I work in an office where farting is a sick game of whom can make whom gag the most. Farts are being shot off carefree all day long every day (not many women in our office). In addition to me not finding farts humorous, I have to deal with them all day long. Grown men, walk around, fart in your office then scurry off giggling like little school girls. So written into our wedding woes (well, it should have been), no wife of mine is allowed to fart out loud. It’s repulsive and not very lady like. So when he said “But daddy…… mommy doesn’t fart” it was just so perfect.

Maya walks

Need I say more? This was her 4th time that day.

Catch-up-on-blogs-day

Sorry for not posting anything in a long time. This of course is going out to the 2-3 people that still visit here on a semi-regular basis hoping to see an update. So today is that day! I will post 3 months of back blogs immediately after I post this one. Let start off with a status update…

Matthew: Walking, talking, arguing, trying to hurt his sister at every chance he gets, extremely jealous of the attention she gets when she has a millstone moment (ie. walking) and he’s eating like a garbage disposal stuck in the ON position. “I’m so hungry” is all we hear all day long. The kid just won’t stop eating. Aside from food his most recent passion is Thomas the Train show. I personally don’t like it because the show is populated with the scum of society (the diesel trains) and they are such pricks to Thomas that I don’t want him learning how to be like that. Mommy says it shows conflict resolution but I feel otherwise. The show does have a great set of toys we can play with. All the characters, all the destinations, all the money. Oh the money. How something made in china from WOOD can cost so much is beyond me. We spend alot of time playing with his Thomas toys. We build up some tracks, send the trains down and we watch them go round and round. My kind of playing, you just sit and watch with the occasional “who’s that puffing down the track?”.

Maya: Pure Evil! We had it so easy with Matthew. This one doesn’t sleep all night (still), doesn’t eat properly, must be within eye-shot of mommy at all times, complete parasite of free time, will power and money. But she’s so cute; primarily the only reason she still lives with us. She’s figured out crawling, and walking and doing both rather well. Her only words so far are “Hi” and “ish!”. Ish is what she calls Matthew when he’s not in the room. She does love him and loves playing with him. By that I mean loves stealing his shit while he’s using it. Her newest thing is unfolding laundry. If she comes across a pile of folder well organized cloths, she feels it necessary to take them off the pile one by one and throw them to the floor. The little bitch will even open the dresser drawers and pull shit out and throw onto the floor. But like I already said, she’s sooooo cute. Lastly… she’s messy. God-dam is she messy. I have to literally vacuum the main floor every 24-48 hours. Crackers, cookies, cherios, everywhere!! everyday!! You walk across the carpet and all you hear is crunch crunch crunch.

Matthew vs. 1 Ant

My parents house has a split entry. When you walk thru the front door you’re greeted by a set of stairs that go up to the main floor and a set that go to the finished basement. You basically enter in between the two floors. At the base of the basement stairs is a large foyer with tile on the floor. Matthew likes to play there since all his cars roll magnificently on the super flat surface. So on this particular day, we were all sitting upstairs watching TV and talking while my son sat down there and played with his cars.

Suddenly he let out a scream. It was so heart wrenching that I was sure he had severed his arm or foot or something devastating like that. In less then 2.5 seconds I displaced Maya from my lap where she was sitting, ran around the half wall adjacent to the stair, flew down 2 flights of stairs and grabbed my son to attempt to stop what every bleeding I was sure I’d find.

NOTHING. There was no blood, the was no broken anything. “Buddy what happened?! Did you get a boo boo?!”, while still in tears he sticks up his index finger (which didn’t have a mark on it) and said “YA… on my finger” There was nothing but I kissed it anyways. This made him stop crying pretty much instantly. So I put him down and he went back to playing. Then I saw. He was playing cars with an ant. Yes, one of those big red-assed ants. He was tormenting it with the card and the fucker bit him. Serves him right, but that’s all it was.

Back up I went. Maya was in the arms of the person sitting next to me and the topic of conversation had shifted to how a 300lb, 6′3″ person could have gotten down 2 flights of stairs in 1 step. My response was “I love my son”.

Stefi the retard

Potty mouths in the house unite. We know we should watch what we say, but we’re passionate people and we like to litter our sentences with powerful and colorful words. So my son was at him babcia’s (my mom’s) house playing with Stefi (my 18 year old sister) when apparently she did something that he didn’t agree with. I got a phone call almost immediately from my distraught sister “Do you know what your son just did??”, I’m always curious when phone conversation start with statements like that;

“HE CALLED ME A RETARD!” she yelled out.

After I got a hold of myself and wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes I inquired as to why he would say that to her. She explained that she had taken something from him he wasn’t using but was planning on using at some point in the near future. So when she took it, it was open season on stefi… the retard.

$2000, $6000, $55 dollar pancakes

Went out for breakfast with grandpa like we usually do every weekend. Matthew got his pancakes and we got our plates of food. Suddenly “Wow!!! $2000 pancakes!” The whole place heard him and had a little chuckle. From that day on, every time he saw something at the store it was $2000. To hear a 3 year old lisp his way thru something like “two thousand dollars” was quite cute so we never corrected him. A few weeks went by. Then the price of goods started to go up drastically. EVERYTHING including his pancakes were now $6000. We’d be in the poor house soon if we’re having $6000 pancakes every weekend. A few more weeks went by… Today, the price of everything has come down to a reasonable $55. Pancakes, his Thomas trains, it’s all $55. As cute as $2000, and $6000 was, “fiffy-doh’llars” is by far my favorite. And it’s quite affordable.

3 terds = 3 eggs

Back before he was potty trained, we tried everything to get him to crap on the toilet. Nothing really worked. He just decided one day that he was done crapping his pants and we haven’t looked back since. Looking back now, I remember the one time, he tried to con us. We were giving him Kinder Surprise eggs as rewards for successfully producing a coil in the toilet. Well one time he did just that. But it broke into 3 smaller pieces when it hit the water. After he got up he looked down and said “WOW! 3 terds…. I get 3 eggs!” and he was so happy. For the rest of that day he demanded 3 eggs. We didn’t even have one in-stock since we were loosing the potty battle that week. So all day it was “Daddy we should go out and get 3 eggs”. Eventually we did go out. And we did get 3 eggs. But he was only allowed to have 1. He was appeased.

Huge wiener

I was sitting on the edge of the bed getting dressed. Our bed is really high off the floor so when Matthew RAN into the room and stopped about 2 feet in front of me, his eyes were at a very uncomfortable elevation. He utters: “Wow Daddy! You have a really big wiener!” to which I could only reply “Thanks buddy”. He followed with “I have a little wiener, look!” And he pulls his pants down and flashes me.

A week after that. He’s on the change table after his bath getting lotion applied to his self. He reaches down and starts playing with his nut sac. A confused look comes over his face “Daddy there’s a ball inside me” he muttered as he squeezed his left testicle with his fingers. At this point I decided to tell him “That’s your testicle buddy. You have two actually, can you find the other one?” So he went searching. And found it. “Daddy Daddy Daddy, I have 3 testicles!” Well no, actually he only has two, but his counts are ALWAYS off by 1 or 2 numbers (see cleaning brushes video)

Floor cleaner from hell

Matthew describes in detail about a phobia. It’s not that cute, this is the 4th time he told the story. The first time he did it with such a serious face that I had to hug him. This time, he knows, it’s funny.