Wednesday, December 29, 2010

360+ shopping days left

The dust has finally settled, and though the dishwasher & garage door opener still don't work, things are starting to get back to normal. Finn is still not clear on the fact that Christmas is over, however, and is repeatedly asking to open more presents. The first words out of his mouth upon waking from his nap yesterday were: "Now we open more Christmas presents?"

Of course, I reminded him that Christmas was over and that there were no more presents - as Kitty was walking in the door with more presents. So my credibility is shot. Not like he was listening to me anyway. If I come up the stairs and roar like a monster if he's not expecting me, he'll get scared and run to the other side of the house with his toys before he even looks over his shoulder. However, if I threaten him that Santa only brings toys to good little boys and girls that use the potty, he'll just shrug, wet his pants and ask where his presents are.

Although in his defense, and as he pointed out to me a couple of days ago, "the potty takes a long time."

Aside from the Money Pit issues noted earlier this week, Christmas was a huge success. Finn and I have discovered that we both have an affinity for his new train table - me for setting it up and him for immediately knocking it down with his new toy garbage truck - which I'm sure we can eventually parlay into a much more expensive electric train habit. Turns out that setting up those wooden tracks without instructions isn't easy. It took Rob and I at least an hour on Christmas Eve just to make a rudimentary oval. The weird part is it didn't take us nearly that long to drink that bottle of tequila beforehand.

We had Mema, Keith, Nicole & new-cousin-Leni in town, which was great, though Finn did show a little bit of jealousy around Leni - which manifested itself into a weird Linus-like blanket affectation for a couple of nights. Not really sure what was up with that, since it was gone as soon as it arrived. He did maintain Linus-brain, as he informed me that today's brief snowstorm's flakes "need more sugar."

Now, according to Finn, the only thing remaining for this year's Christmas is to return our tree to the field from whence it came. I'm definitely not making that drive again, so I'm thinking he'll be equally as happy when I tell him that we're returning it to a garbage truck.

We can even throw one of the little trees from the train table in the back of his toy garbage truck and reenact the scene ourselves, with the addition of mass destruction across the railway.

I'd better get to work building the track. Where's that tequila?

Saturday, December 25, 2010


Let me preface this by saying, I'm typing this entire post on my iPad. Our laptop died three days ago. And our dishwasher died two days ago. So if you're keeping score (and if you're anything like me, you are), here's the rundown for our last couple of weeks:

Flooded basement (cleanup): $150
Flooded basement (fix): $2,400
Garage door opener replacement: $200
Laptop repair: free, thanks to extended warranty (which was $300)
Dishwasher repair: TBD
Hearing my son say "Merry Christmas, Daddy": $600... I mean, er, priceless.

'Tis the season, my friends! Here's to your health, and continued home maintenance!

Now excuse me while I find something cheap to grill.

- Posted from my iPad

Best. Christmas. Ever.

-- Post From The Land of Perfectly Grilled Meat

Friday, December 17, 2010

Geriatric/Pre-school ice skating

Those of you that follow Jena's blog will have already seen this, but if you haven't yet, please be sure to watch it until you get to the ice skating.

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I wonder if they make those things for skiing. That will seriously increase my beer time at the lodge.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

When it rains, it floods

This post was supposed to be about our big ski outing last weekend up at the cabin; the weekend where Finn actually took his first run, seen at right. His style more closely mirrors "noodles on ice" than it does Super G, but I'm hoping we can turn that around with some intensive training this season since the Pineapple Express is currently burying us in precipitation. I hope he's up for it. Tough to tell, given how close to the vest he's playing his emotions in this picture.

He also enjoyed hanging out in the lodge after daddy got tired of carrying him up the rope tow after three whole runs down the bunny hill. Who needs a mountain when there's a table to crawl under and a big Christmas tree to topple?

The only thing missing was a bar that didn't have an absurdly late 11:30 AM opening time. Don't they know that there are parents that frequent that mountain? How can I wait until 11:30 for a beer when I've got to get him home for a nap at 1 PM?

That question was never answered, no matter how many times my companion, Captain Inappropriate, loudly repeated it.

Yeah, that's what this post was supposed to be about, until we returned home from the cabin to find the same Pineapple Express noted above had flooded our basement. For those of you keeping score, that's three floods in three years - though I can't really fault our clearly Swiss cheese foundation for the cat-flood. In fact, given how porous it is, it may have actually helped the water drain back out of the house.

Luckily, no Christmas presents - currently stored in the same room that appears to house the front door for the flood waters - were damaged, so Christmas will go on as scheduled. Also luckily, this was a relatively small flood (and I'm now very good at cleaning floods up), so everything's dry and back to normal.

And lastly luckily, I didn't have to wait for a mountain bar to open to help medicate myself through that situation. And that's the most luckily of all.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Merry Cry-smas

While I knew it would be tough leaving Finn for a week to go traipsing around the Caribbean, I was not prepared for the most difficult part: retraining us all on our roles in the family upon our return. Our first inclination once home was to spoil Finn, but that coupled with his first inclination - which was to completely exploit us - added up to a week of extreme whining.

The whining I can deal with. What I wasn't prepared for was the shark bite Finn applied to my chest in the middle of a whine session. That caught me a bit off guard.

I'm happy to say that I think I handled it well, insofar as I didn't kill him on the spot. Kitty handled it far better by sending me to the basement to watch TV while she took Finn upstairs.

The whining got markedly better toward the end of last week and heading into the weekend we were almost back to normal. Apparently Finn felt that he had punished us enough and was willing to let bygones be bygones. And so it was with great anticipation that we headed out to Christmas Creek on Saturday for our tree and another shot at a Santa picture. I bought a new camera before we went to Belize, so I was really counting on being able highlight the definition in Finn's tears as we put him on Santa's lap.

I had been coaching him all week that he needed to sit on Santa's lap so he could tell him what he wanted for Christmas, but his response every time was that he wouldn't sit on Santa's lap, but he would sit on Mommy or Daddy's lap and we could sit on Santa's lap - a configuration that I was looking forward to explaining to Santa.

We got to Christmas Creek early and were first in line for Santa. Too early it turns out, since we stood there for 45 minutes waiting before finally bailing out because the little Santa cabin was getting too claustrophobic. Unfortunately, that much waiting had taken its toll on Finn and he spent the remainder of the trip moping & crying. Since he refused to explain why he was crying, we were forced to assume it's because he hates Christmas. That or his hands were cold, since it was 30 degrees out and he wasn't wearing mittens. One or the other.

Of course, after we left the Christmas wonderland and drove ourselves all the way back to Seattle, Finn was magically happy again. And as I type this now, he is rolling around on top of a balloon... pants/underwear-less.

In other words, everything's finally back to normal.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Home Sweet Getmebacktothebeach

After a week in Belize without Finn, I now know why parents bring their kids on vacation. It's been a long time since I've been that consistently hung over. I need a regulator, in the form of a two year old that gets up really early and is ready to play. Toward the end of the trip, Kitty and I vowed that we would never take another "adult" vacation again without Finn - particularly not with Holly & Rob.

Now two days back in the house with said whiny two-year-old and I'm already booking a week in Djibouti for next month.

Thanks to the wonders of technology, we were able to keep up with Finn's exploits via video chat on our phones each night and it was pretty easy to see that he was not having a terrible time - as evidenced by the photo above. And while it crushed us to know that we missed Snowpocalypse 2010 while we were stuck on the beach, knowing that Finn was hanging with Layla, Jena, Scott & Grandma Martha was very comforting.

And as expected, upon our return, Finn was not exactly rushing out the door to get back home. After a quick hug, he immediately retreated back to Layla and we had to hang around for 15 minutes before he was comfortable.

Getting him into the car was like trying to get a skittish dog to come up and lick your hand. Except with more whining.

So now it's back to the grind and the start of what is sure to be my favorite season for years to come: the season of threatening Finn with no Santa.

Ho ho ho!

Monday, November 22, 2010


By the time you read this, we'll be in Belize trying to drink away the feeling that we're terrible parents. So that you, my faithful readers, don't suffer, I've preloaded this blog entry to post on Monday. Enjoy.

This is a typical web-surfing session with Finn. It begins with me trying to read the news or type hilarious blog entries, but quickly turns into a demand to look at pictures of firetrucks, garbage trucks or helicopters.

I felt like his enjoyment of these sessions was worth sharing. Of course, the minute I turned off the camera, he exploded with a FIRETRUCKS! so big that our lights went out. One of these days, I'm going to catch one of those.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Old Yeller

At some point over the last few weeks, I went from the Father who "loves too much" to the Father who "loves to yell". Not exactly sure when it happened, but I've got to admit that I'm kind of digging it.

Actually, the first part is not entirely true - I do have a pretty good idea of when it happened. It was roughly about the same time that Finn's primary mode went from "unfathomably adorable" to "constantly whining & crying".

Of course, we know how do deal with whining, being adepts at Positive Discipline. It's all about giving the child choices. For example, I'll say: "I like to give ice cream to kids that say 'please'." At which point, he can either decide to say 'please', and get ice cream, or he can get yelled at.

But that's an easy one. The right answer doesn't always result in ice cream. For example, the other day, Finn developed some sort of "crying injury" in his general foot area. To try to get him to calm down, I offered him the following options:
  1. Stop crying
  2. Have your foot cut off by Daddy
It worked. He stopped crying. Very effective. Next step, "I'll give you something to cry about!"

I'm getting good at this, but I'm not going to get a chance to flex those yelling muscles today. We take off for a week in Belize tomorrow and Finn's not invited. He'll be crashing at Layla's, which will cut down on his morning daycare commute considerably.

When we booked this trip a few months back, the idea of spending a week living like a grown-up in a tropical location sounded like heaven, but now it sounds like sad. This will be our first big trip away and all I'm thinking about is how we're going to video chat with Finn from Belize. And I'm equally certain that upon our return, Finn will have absolutely no interest in coming home with us and will insist upon living at Jena & Scott's house with his girlfriend.

Excuse me, I think I need to go yell at myself until I feel better.

Friday, November 12, 2010

TWHS: Parcipitate!

Parcipitate (v): The act of watching Mommy read stories to Finn, typically performed by Daddy.

Used in context:
Daddy: Come on up and I'll read you a story.
Finn: I don't want you to read me a story. I want Mommy to do it.
Daddy: Come on, I want to read to you.
Finn: No, you sit over there (points to corner) and Mommy reads.
Daddy: But I want to participate!
Finn: Parcipitate!

Truthfully, I'm just happy to be on the team. Even if I do spend most of my time on the bench.

I'll happily accept my purple "Parcipitant" ribbon.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

That's what he said!

Given the fact that I apparently can't be counted on to regularly wax philosphopical on the topics of wetting one's pants on these pages, I figured it's time to introduce a new, lower-impact-on-my-scarce-brainpower feature to the blog:

"That's what he said!" Or, more commonly, TWHS!

This will be the latest in a string of parental cop-outs, coming rights on the heels of "Punishment via DVD."

Of course, given that he's still only two and a half and conversing with him can at times be like talking to a cab driver in a foreign country about the pretty white tigers at the Buenos Aires zoo, since you've got nothing else to say, as you spent the majority of your time in the Spanish clash preceding your visit instructing the teacher to focus just on teaching you how to haggle (Muy caro!), this will also at times be referred to as:

That's what (I think) he said! Or TW(IT)HS!

Most of these quotes will likely come from our daily update from daycare, where all of the kids are asked to recount their favorite part of the day. While normally, Finn's response predictably focuses on trucks, firetrucks, or words that include either fire or truck in them, occasionally you'll be surprised with something interesting, like we were yesterday:

"I sat in puddles."

I can see how that might be the favorite part of the day for a kid that clearly doesn't mind wet pants. At least that helps explain how his pants did get so wet. Before I read that, I was impressed. And worried.

And as an added bonus, allow me to save you the money on adult Spanish lessons: "Los tigres blancos son buenos!"

You're welcome.


I just read that Dave Niehaus passed away today. This is a sad day for baseball, a sport where good radio/TV announcers are hard to come by - even in the Bronx, where money is no object. The week I moved to Seattle was the week that the Mariners beat the Yankees in the 1995 ALDS. I had mixed feelings about it then - I met Tino Martinez and Vince Coleman (shook my hand, sans firecrackers) at a bar celebrating the Mariners win, so that was nice - and I still have mixed feelings as they've replayed Edgar's hit every 15 minutes for the last 15 years on every Seattle baseball broadcast, but I always liked hearing Dave's voice.

RIP, Dave Niehaus. Fly, fly away.

It's small consolation for such a loss, but at least Joe Morgan finally got fired this week. That helps.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010


So it turns out that even after all of my complaining about his costume, it did meet the primary objective that I ultimately hold his costume's accountable against: it scored me lots of candy.

I'll be slowly draining the plastic pumpkin while drip-feeding him a piece of candy a day until surprisingly it's all gone. By about tomorrow.

Once again, it took him all of one house to get into the spirit. From there, it was off to the races, trying to keep up with the big kids. He even managed a "trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat," which his mom had been training him on all evening without any prior success.

What he didn't do so well:
  1. Say "thank you." When prompted to tell the nice people "thank you," his response was "next house."
  2. Watch where he was going. He ran head on into the street, into steps and even directly into a tree. Any crying was immediately resolved when I pointed out the next house.
  3. Take only one piece of candy. We have to go on hearsay here, but the word amongst the 5 year olds is that Finn double-dipped. I'm not surprised, since he seemed to have gotten missed at one of the first houses and stood on the steps fighting off tears while I came up and asked the nice kids handing out candy if he could get a piece. I would imagine that after that near trauma, he wasn't taking chances. Plus, he probably knew that I was going to take my house cut.
  4. Ride in his car seat on the way home without his candy in his lap. From the moment we buckled him in, he "voiced his displeasure" until we gave him back his pumpkin.
After that meltdown, we needed to reinforce with Finn that Halloween was over and that it was time to go home and get ready for bed. He told us that was OK.

After all, he informed us, "Christmas is in two minutes."


Also, while I've got you here, check this out. This is definitely the worst Halloween "candy" that Finn received and possibly the worst Halloween giveaway ever - worse even than fruit:

Who gives out a keychain for a high-blood pressure medicine to kids on Halloween, even if it does double as a sweet flashlight? I thought the razor blades that I was taught to fear in the candy were bad, but people in West Seattle are clearly SICK!

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Lightning Mc-ween

Remember how adorable young Halloween Finn was as a cheetah and a monkey? If not, let's reflect here and here.

This year apparently marks one of those unanticipated milestones: the first non-adorable Halloween. What's next? The first non-alcoholic Christmas?


On an entirely related note, this was also the first year in which Finn could speak well enough to choose his own costume. We ran into some logistical issues right out of the gate, as he informed us that he wanted to be a "birthday." When I asked him to clarify what a birthday looks like, he told me it was a dump truck. Of course it is.

We ended up compromising on the Lightning McQueen outfit pictured above. Of course, that's what it looked like on the website. When it arrived in the mail, it had taken on a slightly different shape:

Behold, Lightning McCarWreck.

Of course, Finn won't care. He digs the fact that it doesn't cover his face - so it won't impede his beer drinking - and it will result in his acquiring large amounts of candy - half of which Daddy will confiscate in the interests of "safety."

Of course, if I'm going to steal all the candy, I'm going to need a costume too. I've decided that I'm going to go as Finn. It's a really easy costume, so I'd recommend it to anyone. All you need to do is pour a glass of water on your crotch and roll around on the ground for a half-hour screaming "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE POTTY!"*

It's sure to be the hit of any party.

* To be fair to Lightning McPeePants, potty training continues to go well enough that I obviously haven't had enough material to post more than once every two weeks. I even taught Finn how to pee like a man, standing outside. But that story is only noteworthy if the neighbor happens to look out his window. Ah, to be back in the blog salad days of carpet-feces.

Thursday, October 14, 2010


Pop quiz: Which do you think is the most effective means of potty training?

A) Overbearing enforcement, coupled with lots of criticism.
B) Gentle encouragement, coupled with positive energy and lack of judgment.
C) Race cars, coupled with the promise of more race cars.

Did you guess A? That was my first guess too. Turns out we're wrong. Kitty's first guess was B, which - while certainly a better option than A - has suffered a ridiculous smackdown in the face of option C.

What was I saying about potty training being hard? I don't remember. Once we introduced bribery via race car, it's been smooth sailing. Way more effective than cookies and jelly beans, which either resulted in counterproductive diarrhea or an overwhelming desire to immediately urinate one's pants for the treat. Applied once every five successful trips to the potty, a little toy race car is extremely effective and much milder on our washing machine than the previously attempted bribes.

Race cars are also a little less, um, fey than baiting using episodes of Glee, which is something that Finn will literally crawl over his own father to watch.

However, while our results have improved significantly since we introduced the potty perks, it's not been an entirely smooth ride. There have been minor accidents, but no worse than a typical college student / retiree. At least we've reached a point where Finn will let us know when he's had an accident - which is more than I can say for those college students / retirees. All in all, we're very pleased with Captain Underpants' performance over the past week.

Unfortunately, I believe that our little Teamster is learning a little more than just how to use the toilet - and is applying his new found manipulation techniques to talk me into reading him a book on the potty in promise of a poop... a poop that never comes.

That's OK. Two can play at that game.

Are those sleigh-bells I hear?

Friday, October 8, 2010

Time crawls

Wow, is this thing still on? Turns out that having Finn's grandparents here last week really cut down on my blog audience and therefore my site traffic, and since I'm only in this blogging thing for the money... (Check my lifetime ad earnings below.)

Speaking of time sneaking away on me, I now recall fondly how quickly the first two and a half years of Finn's life sped by. Fondly, because things do not appear to flow that quickly when potty training. It feels like we've been doing this for years - which is also how I'm sure it feels to you too, since that's been the only topic of blogversation for the last few weeks. In fact, when I look back at pictures from our early days of potty training, I've got a mullet and am wearing MC Hammer parachute pants.

Though it is worth noting that I look good in a mullet and Hammer pants.

These are clearly the times that try a parent's patience. Just when it appears that we're making progress, and our little potty jockey is asking to go to the bathroom, five minutes later he'll insist that he doesn't have to go as he's dropping a deuce in his Lightning McQueens.

Add to that general frustration the fact that he's two - and therefore genetically unable to make anything easy - and even I'm considering that maybe I shouldn't be making so much fun of Kitty for practicing calming/meditation techniques.

For example, the picture above was taken this morning, several minutes after aforementioned deuce, immediately after he kicked the cat dish off the back porch and right before he hit me with his watering can because I hadn't yet showed him the picture (above) that I had just taken.


Of course, being that his veins flow richly with the ridiculously cute and charming Parker blood, he offset all of that this evening by naming a piece of spaghetti "Brenda" and then pointing to his stomach when I asked him five minutes later where Brenda went.

That was pretty adorable. I think I'll give him one more chance. I just really look forward to the days when I don't have to clean poop off his ankles.


For those that are interested, here are the total earnings from those incredibly compelling inline ads you can find on the blog:

Drinks are on me!

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Captain Underpants Does the Puyallup

We're now two weeks into Operation Underpants and it's clear that we're not out of the woods yet. Casualties have been minimal, but consistent. We have yet to experience an accident-free day, though today was very close with only 1/2 an accident.

Don't ask.

We have determined that we can minimize homeside issues by forcing Captain Underpants to go commando. While he doesn't seem to care too much about peeing in his pants, he isn't thrilled about the prospect of peeing on his toys so he's more likely to head to the potty when prompted.

Commando works at home, but not so much at daycare or on excursions into the outside world. Daycare... whatever. Not my problem. Excursions? Definitely my problem.

Particularly when said excursion is our first trip to the Puyallup Fair! Allow me to preface this story by stating that many of my fondest summertime memories growing up were at the Dutchess County Fair in Rhinebeck, NY - which is also where my brother and Chelsea Clinton got married this summer.

Not to each other, thankfully. Nothing against Chelsea - I'm sure she is a very nice woman - however I would not look forward to explaining to my father-in-law that we would be spending the holidays with the Clintons.

The Puyallup Fair is bigger than the Dutchess County Fair by a magnitude of infinity (there's a sky tram and a Tesla/Queensryche double-bill!), and while I love me some summer fair, we've never before made the trip in the 15 years that we've lived here. But Finn needed a corn dog, fourteen separate hot tub dealers and a midsized tractor/backhoe (pictured above), and there's only one place you can find that.

Puyallup is about forty-five minutes south, but it might as well be Mars. Mullets, jean shorts & Harleys abound, as they do in certain areas of Seattle, however here it's not intended to be ironic. Weird.

Suffice it to say, we had an amazing time. Probably the best morning (that did not involve a Bloody Mary) that I can remember in ages. Finn was overload-stunned into catatonia for 85% of our time there, but we did catch a couple of rides and eat some fair food. And the only accident of the day was on the car ride down - from there on out, he used the surprisingly clean fair restrooms dependably.

But the absolute best part of the fair was the Mutton Bustin'. In fact, this may be the absolute best part of my year. We shot some video, but I found a compilation on YouTube that's even better.

Behold: Mutton Bustin'. I've watched this video at least 18,465 times since yesterday and it has yet to get old.

Finn better be ready for his six seconds next year. We need to get him bulked up on corn dogs, stat.

Monday, September 20, 2010


Since it's been a while since we've posted a talkie of Finn up here, I figured I'd share this demonstration of the proper method of wetting one's pants.

It's a shame I only caught the last jump, before Finn decided to try and ditch me altogether. The first 34 splashes were much bigger. Trust.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Two left feet

I don't know what kind of creative potty training is going on over there at daycare, but every day I've picked Finn up this week his shoes have been on the wrong feet.

Whatever it is, it seems to be working as Finn has only had a couple of minor accidents at home. I'll call them minor, as I will be overlooking the Curious Case of the Ankle Poop as it lacks any logical explanation.

Unfortunately, the story from daycare is not quite as bright. Until today, he was averaging about an accident a day - not bad - but today brought three. With a little digging, it was determined that this is likely the result of the jelly bean rewards being offered. Apparently, Finn hasn't quite gotten the fact that you're supposed to go in the potty to get the reward and was furiously trying to pee his pants as often as possible for a treat.

I shouldn't be too surprised, since our attempt at bribery over the weekend went sideways too. We bought Finn a cookie for being so good and we were trying to get him excited to use the potty so he could have the cookie by baiting him.

Us: "What's the name of the blue monster on Sesame Street?"
Him: "Um... Purple!"


After finally getting the correct answer...
Us: "What does Cookie Monster love to eat?"
Him: "Crackers!"


We gave him the cookie before he further embarrassed himself.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Parental potty training

I wouldn't recommend sitting on this rock

Final tally for the weekend:

Potty: 18
Underpants/floor/road: 4

Not bad. Particularly, when you consider that those four were all of the #1 variety. Of course, I'll bet none of you - me included - expected so much scoring. Anyone who took the "over" on the weekend definitely raked it in.

While the score is definitely very much in Finn's favor, I'm not sure whether that speaks more to his predilection for the potty or for our OCD placement of him upon it. In looking back at our toilet log - OK, that didn't come out right - it appears that we took Finn to the john roughly every 45 minutes on Saturday, each time initiated by us. With that kind of frequency, it's not surprising that he didn't have any accidents.

On Sunday, we chilled out a bit and the average stretched out to an hour and a half or so - and predictably that led to a couple more accidents. And I do mean accidents, insofar as I don't think Finn has any idea how his pants are getting wet. He'll need to figure that out, if we're ever going to be able to successfully toilet-bribe him with candy.

Whatever. It's Monday now. It's Jena's problem.

Hey Jena - Have this worked out by Friday, okay? Our washing machine is begging.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Day 1: There Will be Poop

Let's hope we're all still smiling at this point tomorrow.

-- Post From My iPhone, far far away

Wednesday, September 8, 2010


Whatever you do, don't open the lid.

Upon this throne sits a future President of the United States. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is exactly what George Washington's potty looked like. Except maybe for the Toy Story 3 stickers. They were probably still on Toy Story 2 back then.

Aside from its obvious flair, the best part of the potty is its portability. Whether it's precariously tucked under my arm as I furiously run it downstairs to the kitchen because Finn has decided that he's ready to go, or it's crammed in the back of the car for an aromatic trip to the cabin, this potty is made to move.

Not that it'll be moving that much starting this Friday, as we make the official transition to underwear. We're prepared to hunker down in the house all weekend so as not to get too far from the potty and/or the hot water, soap and washing machine. To prepare, I was instructed to go to Target and buy as many little boy's underpants as was legally allowed without having to register my name with the state. Apparently, this process gets messy.

Finn couldn't be happier about the possibility of putting on underpants - assured to be the exact opposite of his position on the matter in roughly 16 years. We've been letting him play with them for the last couple of weeks, which is actually way cuter than it sounds. Because it sounds kind of gross.

Even though they've never been worn. And even though they've got little Buzz Lightyears and little Maters on them. Which makes them totally adorable.

OK, I'll admit it. I put them on my head like a hat to make Finn laugh.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go register with the state.

Sunday, August 29, 2010


With the bachelor weekend winding down, I'd like to take a minute to inventory the happenings of the last two days:
  • 427 conversations about fire trucks
  • 234 conversations about diggers
  • 2 (too many) conversations about pooping
  • 2 gallons of syrup consumed
  • 3 apple trees drank/drunk (Mom, little help on proper conjugation?)
  • 1 crayon calzone consumed (pictured)
  • 34 DVD's watched
It's the last one that I'm a little embarrassed by. In fact, I had to sit Finn down before the 4th consecutive viewing of "Twenty Trucks" (currently happening now) to explain that this weekend was special and that we wouldn't be able to watch this many DVD's when Mommy gets home.

In other words, I told him that Daddy is the one who cares about him and Mommy is evil.

Something tells me that that's going to come back to bite me.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

When the Kitty's Away

With Kitty in San Francisco meeting our new niece, I sent Finn to the store for essentials. Which apparently means beer and a plastic Toy Story Woody doll.

Don't worry. I wrote him a note and he told me that he got stickers from the cashier.


-- Post From my phone in Bachelor's Paradise

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Third Time is a Charm

"I poopin'!"

The good news is that we have hard wood floors in our bedroom. That's a very exciting fact to learn, while cleaning up the third household flood in three years.

Unfortunately, I can't blame this one on the cats - in fact they helped me discover it. After we... um, I... inadvertently locked them in our bedroom all day, I figured it would be in my best interest to scout for cat pee. Which is when I discovered Lake Michigan, Jr. in our closet, courtesy of a faulty air conditioner.

Of course, I didn't realize it was the A/C at first and was extremely impressed (and saddened) by the cats' bladder capacities. Once I realized that it was "only" water, I fell back into that comfortable clean-up routine. I've spent the last 2 days ripping up carpet. And drilling out drywall. Again. Good times.

While I've been doing this, Finn has continued practicing his potty skills. He's gotten so good at it that I've only had to change one poopy diaper all week and that's because I took him on a long walk sans porta-potty. He's very good at announcing his bodily functions from the can as they're happening, and very eager to help empty his little potty container into the toilet.

This last part terrifies me, because he won't let me help guide the package home to its rightful place. And he doesn't really have the steadiest hands.

Unfortunately, my fears were realized yesterday as I watched an entire container of poop water gleefully dumped on the bathroom floor. I couldn't help but yell, which made him cry, which made me feel bad. We ended with a nice constructive talk about how it's bad to pour your toilet water on the floor, which was nice, but in the end, there's not enough Lysol in the city to make me feel good about that bathroom floor again.

I'll take another cat flood any day.

Sunday, August 15, 2010


I've returned from my cross-country work roadshow directly onto the surface of the sun - where it is still mid-80's inside my house at 10 PM. I don't know which I prefer more, a week spent in hotel rooms, discussing CRM theory with sales managers, or 90+ degree days in an un-air conditioned house.

Actually, that's misleading. I love discussing CRM theory. I'd prefer it over a typical 72 degree day in an un-air conditioned house.

I think there's something wrong with me.

So while I sit here waiting for the temp to go down so I can type something intelligent, here's a pic of Finn pointing out a much more comfortable locale.

Turns out that loudly telling your son to go back and point at the Daddy sodas at the grocery store while angling for a better camera phone shot earns you some interesting looks.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Potty Time

Fun fact: I am often confused with Angelina Jolie. It used to be because of my humanitarian efforts (Feed the Yankees!), my luscious lips and my make-out sessions with my brother, but lately it's because of the fact that I let my son dress himself.

At least, that's the way it stands around here when I let Finny wear his Twenty Trucks shirt - a questionable fashion accessory, to be sure, but his absolute favorite shirt. And since Kitty was at yoga this morning (I'm a coward) and since I'll be out of town for business all week next week, the Twenty Trucks shirt made it out of the drawer today.

To celebrate, we also ate chocolate chip cookies for breakfast.

Like I said, Kitty wasn't around.

Turns out this may have been another questionable decision. Finn's digestion has been a little off of late. In fact, Mema - who was visiting earlier this week - greeted me at the door on Tuesday with, "So, Finny was pooping all over the place today."

I chuckled, until I noticed the damp spot on the carpet and realized that she meant that literally.

The poor little guy has had a persistent rash and bathroom issues for the past week, which on the bright side has actually helped the potty training since we can just sit him on the potty for roughly 12 hours of the day.

The odd thing is that he absolutely loves that. He would sit on the potty all day if we let him. Kitty was reading the Potty Training for Dummies book and it contains all sorts of tricks for getting your kid onto the toilet, but none for getting him off of it.

I guess it's better that way, right? I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen?

Monday, August 2, 2010

Time for Change

It must be nice being two years old (aside from the crapping in one's pants, though we're working on that). On top of the fact that your Dad will do absolutely anything for you if you whine long enough, it takes very little to make your day.

As an adult, when was the last time you were excited about a letter? Finn gets pumped every time he sees the letter "F".

"F is for Finn!" he'll exclaim from his potty-throne. He will then go on to inform me that "W" is for Woody and "R" is for Dump Truck. I don't correct him. I'm pretty sure there's an "R" in there somewhere and he's so happy to have found it.

He will then command that I sing him the concrete mixer song for the eleventy-millionth time that afternoon and then clap and laugh when I get to the chorus like it's the first time in history anyone has ever thrown in a "bom bom bom" transition during the concrete mixer song.

Which is probably true, given that I made up the concrete mixer song, but still. I don't remember the last time I got excited about the letter "B" and/or a song involving concrete mixers, but I'm sure I'm just overly jaded. Growing up in the big city of Millbrook, NY will do that to you.

No, when I want excitement I need to do something EXTREME. Something nuts. Something dangerous. Something like SHAVING!

This was the first time I had shaved my beard in roughly 10 years - which only sounds long until you consider that it took me roughly 9 years to grow it. Given that Finn had obviously never seen me without a beard and knowing how excited he gets over the most mundane stuff, I was excited to show him. I shaved it off during his nap and went up to wake him up expecting him to totally freak out.

"Hi Daddy," was his only response.

Disappointed, I made him rub my face and repeatedly tried to get him to tell me what was different. He just looked at me like I was crazy until I finally asked him where my beard went.

"It's right here," he casually informed me. Then he reached down and grabbed a handful of my chest hair.

Apparently, my sparsely populated facial hair migrating down to my chicken chest - while still totally freaking me out every time I walk past a mirror - isn't as exciting as the letter "F" to the Ninja.

Next time I'll have to throw in a "bom bom bom" for good measure.

Monday, July 26, 2010


In the world of software development, before releasing a new feature / website / porn collection, it's important to run some regression tests to make sure that your new stuff doesn't break any of your old stuff. If we had a reliable QA office here at, we'd have regression bugs all over the place as every new day seems to break our previously pleasant Finnware a little more as we get deeper and deeper into the 2.0's.

But Finn's not the only one regressing. Mommy& also appears to be hampered by the reappearance of some previously resolved hardware - specifically, baby monitors. We retired our monitor back in the spring, not because Finn had outgrown it, but because the recharger stopped working and we're too cheap to buy a new one.

I was fine with it. Our lives had 75% less ocean sounds, which meant I was no longer falling asleep the minute the monitor was turned on. However, it turns out that Kitty wasn't quite ready to let it go. Apparently, checking Finn's breathing manually every 15 minutes was taking its toll on her. At least we were able to get a free replacement, even if it wasn't the video monitor that would allow us to count his eyelashes while he slept.

I'm still getting used to having the ocean back, but all I can say is: this better not happen with potty training. Once we've got that kid reliably on the potty, the next person to be in diapers will be me.

I can't wait.

Monday, July 19, 2010


Unfortunately, Baby Center doesn't offer any answers. Just rhetorical questions.

Of course two is not all bad, as today Finn emphatically informed me that he LOVES when I sing the A-B-C song. Plus he claps when I sing him the bulldozer song while he sits on the potty. That's good for my ego. Even though you can't really get a more captive audience than a two-year-old on the toilet, I'll take it.

The downside is the persistent whining. We stopped using the stroller a couple of months ago and now neighborhood walks alternate between hysterical running giggles and dramatic pleas to ride on my shoulders. We're trying not to respond to the whining - as "they" have instructed - and we're asking him to ask politely, which translates into, "Shoulders pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease."

Word on the street is that it was Einstein who defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results. If that's true, then I am certainly insane as I love to pick him up and put him on my shoulders, but I'm still surprised when he whines for it on the next walk.

Perhaps I need to take a hint from snails and up my meth dosage.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Catching Up

Turns out that summer is a difficult time to blog. This is due, in part, to the fact that by Seattle law every resident is forced to drink a six-pack of beer each night of the summer to please the sun gods who only bless our fair city for three months of the year. And I, for one, obey the law.

It's also due to the fact that the extended summer nights mean Finn's bedtime is pushed waaaaay beyond the typical 7:30 pm cut-off that we enforce during the winter and often falls after 9 pm. That doesn't leave much time for me to type on and on about what a wonderful kid he is, since I'm so busy enjoying him being a wonderful kid.

But that leaves you, fair readers, out in the cold - which isn't fair. So here's a quick update:

Finn still likes:
  • Layla
  • Diggers
  • DVD's about diggers
  • Pictures of himself
  • Being tickled
  • Telling me not to tickle him (tease)
Finn still dislikes:
  • Brushing his teeth
  • Leaving Layla
  • Not watching diggers
  • The Red Sox (I'm projecting)
So now that we're all caught up, I'll try to be better about keeping everyone in the loop going forward. In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of Finn on a digger. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of him crying after he fell off this digger and hit his head on the other digger since I was too busy taking this picture.

Finn also dislikes his neglectful dad. But not as much as the Red Sox.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Summer Break

It's finally summer in Seattle, so apologies for the lack of content.

Fussy Ninja will return soon. In the meantime, please enjoy this pic of Friend of the Ninja Kevin Cobb, taken 5 minutes ago.

Ah, summer.

-- Post From My iPhone in beautiful Mt Vernon, WA

Thursday, July 1, 2010


OK, the wedding's back on. All it took were a couple of car trips: one to the zoo (we drove) and one around the backyard (Layla drove) to iron out the domestic tension.

That's the good news. The bad news is that flights to Mars are not cheap. Set up a fare alert now.

Friday, June 25, 2010


I would have posted something earlier this week, but my head was exploding with the decisions that fatherhood forces upon you: play with my new Father's Day iPad or my brand new iPhone 4 (which I justified because it shoots HD video and supports video calls... both for the grandparents, of course).

It's a hard knock life. Steve Jobs owes me a beer. But of course, he'd just tell me that I'm holding it wrong.

The best part about the iPad (other than the amazing MLB baseball app and the envy of my coworkers) is that it makes pictures like the one above from Jena come alive in your hands.

Of course that same image fidelity also helps me relive my childhood heartbreaks with pictures like this one:

I know that they're just being kids and that it's probably a little too soon for them to settle down, but to go from giving eyelash kisses to Finn to giving them to Finn's best-firetruck-buddy John?


I just hope that I don't have to return the wedding beer koozies that I've pre-ordered.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day

Just wanted to wish the owner of all the bad (and of course the most fun) ideas in the household a Happy Father's Day. Yeah you in the back there laughing like a hyena, thank you for all that you do. I wouldn't want to do it without you.

I would get a complex about what a Daddy's boy Finn is, except it affords me so many free moments. "What's that? You want your Daddy? And you are smuggling brownies in your diaper? Oh Daaaaaaaaddy, he's all yours." Finn is very excited about Father's Day, but he also believes it is a holiday where cake is served. He's still new to this.

Dirty diapers are on me today! Relax, kick back and watch the Yankees game. I'll break it to Finn that there won't be cake. Or will there be?

Also a Happy Fathers Day to Grandpa Finn & Grandpa Parker You must of done so many things right to end up with such fabulous kids like us, right? Right?

Friday, June 18, 2010

Uh huh

Turns out that Finn can read now. I was pretty surprised, given that he still poops in his pants and can't yet successfully zip up his jacket on his own, but the evidence is compelling.

To stave off the carpal tunnel that was quickly taking over my hands as a result of typing "excavator song" into YouTube every hour, we ordered Finn the full DVD that includes that clip and a whole host of other truck-related songs from the Twenty Trucks website. For less than the price of two beers at Yankee Stadium, two DVD's, a CD and a t-shirt arrived in the mail yesterday.

I expected Finn to be excited about the DVD, but I didn't expect him to look at the t-shirt, clearly labeled "Twenty Trucks" and say, "That's Twenty Trucks." I was pretty impressed. He may as well have looked at my bank statement and asked me why I spent so much money on beer at Yankee Stadium.

I'd have asked him how he learned to read, whether this was another one of Jena's tricks, but I know that the only answer I'd get would be "Uh huh," which is how Finn answers all questions these days that deserve a positive response. Apparently "yes" is too complicated - a la the zipper - and "no" has been replaced by silence. But I digress...

The arrival of the DVD's has already had a marked effect on Finn beyond his surprising ability to read.

Every day, Jena and the gang at daycare send out an email that lists anything noteworthy that's not covered in the blog post. Included is a list of quotes from each kid about their favorite part of the day. By charting these quotes out over the last week, you can determine exactly when the DVD's arrived:
  • Finn 'Favorite part of the day' Quote (June 15): "Look I fall down there. Silly Finn (lying on his mat). Cars and trucks. I got car, I got Lightming DeQueen [sic]. Watch out. I get water, I wash him off.*"
  • Finn 'Favorite part of the day' Quote (June 18): "Diggers. Watching diggers. Trucks and trucks and diggers and dump trucks."
* Ed. note: Finn is obsessed with the scene in Cars where Lightning McQueen gets tar on his lucky sticker while pulling Bessie and asks Big Red to wash him off. I assume that he finds it so interesting because it's the only part of the plot to which he can actually relate.

I'm honestly a little bummed if we're going to trade in our Cars obsession for the Twenty Trucks DVD. Even though we've now watched Lightning McQueen race for the Piston Cup roughly 467,235 times, I still enjoy it.

Of course, there is one huge selling point: Rascal Flatts does not appear anywhere on the Twenty Trucks soundtrack. I'll take "They Call Him Bulldozer - or Dozer for Short" over their version of "Life is a Highway" any day.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Excavator Song

By a show of hands, how many of you know the difference between an excavator and a backhoe?

It's hard to see through this thing, but if my suspicions are correct, only my brother has his hand up. That means that Finn is smarter than the rest of you.

For the last couple of months, Archer had been pushing me to check out YouTube for quality toddler entertainment. He was specifically pushing me to watch some of the digger movies, given our sons' shared obsession. I kept forgetting about them until I took Finn to the zoo with him and Cyrus and Cyrus was able to name every digger we passed. This was only relatively surprising, given that both Finn & Cyrus found the diggers way more interesting than the gigantic grizzly bear swimming roughly 6 inches from their noses.

However, I was suitably impressed that he knew what a skid steer loader was, so I rushed home and fired up the laptop to see if Finn would be interested. Big mistake.

Finn has always been a fan of diggers, but discovering these movies has blown his obsession wide open. It is now not uncommon for his first words of the day to be, "Watch excabator [sic] song." In fact, it go so bad on our trip back east that my mother had to tell him that the excavators were still sleeping just to quiet him down.

The pic above is Finn watching the Excavator Song on the iPhone with Mema. His eyes tell the whole story.

Of course, it turns out the Excavator Song was just a gateway video. He's since moved onto harder fare: the garbage trucks of Naples, FL. I don't know what's up in Naples, but they clearly have the most diverse collection of garbage trucks in the free world. The increased understanding of waste management vehicles resulting from hours left unattended in front of YouTube even resulted in Finn correcting me the other day when I tried to name the garbage truck we were watching.

"That's not a front-loader, Daddy."

Oh yeah? Well that blue tractor isn't a "John Deere" like you said it was!

In your face, Finny!

Friday, June 11, 2010

The Fabulous Flying Finn

Turns out Finn is really good at flying. Not the airplane kind - though he was stellar this past "vacation", particularly on the final leg of the return trip where he didn't cry or complain once, unlike both of his parents. No, I'm speaking of actual flying, which Finn decided to try out two nights ago by taking a header out of his crib.

I'm sure this type of thing was long overdue. We've made a concerted effort to not hover over him lately, with the assumption that taking some licks is good for him - that whatever doesn't kill him, will just leave him bruised and wiser. Or in the case of a small playing-ball-poolside incident in NY last week, a little wet.

The funny part is that until his topple, Finn was only interested in climbing INTO the crib. In fact, he was so disinterested in climbing out, that we'd put him in his crib to jump around with the gate half-down.

Bad idea. Turns out that Finn REALLY likes jumping around in his crib. So much so that he was able to clear the railing completely en route to introducing his head to the carpet. This resulted in a frantic phone call during Daddy's sacred softball-time and hourly Mommy wake-up sessions overnight.

Of course, the next day Finn didn't show any ill effects. Unlike his buddy Grace, who was sporting a nice bruise from her almost simultaneous crib-dive.

At least that's the story from daycare. The first rule of Tiny Fight Club is: you do not talk about Tiny Fight Club.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Pants off dance off

The only thing that beats waking up at 4 AM is waking Finn up at 4 AM.

Wait, actually there is one thing that beats that: waking Finn up at 4 AM to get on a plane to Chicago, where we have a three hour layover, then getting back on a plane to Westchester County Airport, then arriving back at Grandma and Grandpa Parker's roughly twelve hours after we started.

Yeah, that's definitely better.

Since we'll be traveling for the next ten days or so, there will likely not be much blogging. Particularly since Kitty has decided that my iPhone is no longer family-friendly following a minor baseball-game-score-checking-at-the-dinner-table incident the other night.

So to tide anyone that's actually still reading this thing over, check out some of the recent posts over at Jena's blog. They're chock full of Finn content, but pace yourself since that will obviously also dry up while we're out of town.

I'd start with this one. Whatever it is that Scott (the guy on the couch) does for work, that's what I want to do.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Fine Whine

I've frequently mentioned Positive Discipline as a parenting philosophy that Kitty and I are trying out. Mostly because it's funny to think that we have a "parenting philosophy" when it's all I can do to remember which floor I've parked on at work, even though I've been parking in the exact same spot every day for almost 9 years.

We attended a Positive Discipline workshop at Jena's a couple of weeks ago (free booze), where I learned that I am a parent that "loves too much". Great, right? Turns out it means "pushover".

In my case, this manifests itself in me doing whatever Finn asks, provided he throws in a little whine. I mean, have you seen how cute this kid is - especially when he's wearing my shoes? Who could let an angel like this be unhappy for just one second?

This mindset is apparently not a good thing. During our workshop, I was reminded to not just focus on making Finn happy now, but to focus on the type of person that I would hope he becomes. Which, as it turns out, is not a person that spends 75% of his day whining.

Unfortunately, that's the road on which he's currently headed. He has developed his whining skills so well that he is now in demand as a speaker at environmental rallies and [insert political party] conventions.

What happened to the kid that was walking around at ten months and bolting down the slide by himself? That's him over there in the corner crying about how he can't get his jacket zipper down.

Have you ever read The Little Engine that Could? Boy, is that book repetitive. I'd like to punch that "funny little clown" in his red nose, but I can't because that book is now a teaching aid for us to reiterate to Finn the importance of continuing to try, even if things don't work out immediately.

It kind of works, in that he'll repeat "I think I can" while crying at the foot of the stairs because he doesn't want to walk up them. That's about as well as my counting lessons have worked, insofar as he can now count to five. However, "one-two-three-four-five" is the answer to any question that includes the words "How many?"

Of course, my teaching aid for counting was my Simpsons UNO deck. Maybe the question of "How many Chief Wiggums do you see?" is a bit advanced.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


Sometimes blogging is hard. I had every intention of posting something incredibly clever this weekend, but Kitty was in San Francisco, which means that once again it was all I could do just to keep Finn and me alive. I didn't shower for two days. Finn and I met Archer and Cyrus at the zoo and the gorillas were staring at me and holding their noses.

With the Mommy back home tonight, we decided to head out on the town and have dinner at a local Japanese restaurant.

Before I tell the story, I've got to explain the picture. For Christmas, we were given "Mr. Bacon vs. Monsieur Tofu", which has become my teaching aid to explain to Finn how much better pork fat is than coagulated soy bean curd as evidenced in the pic. I've got Finn well-trained to reply "Yucky," whenever I break out "Mr. Toe-Food" (Finn's pronunciation, not mine, but fitting).

Tonight at dinner, however, he gulped down an entire plate of tofu that the waitress brought him without our asking, even though we have never seen him eat a single piece of tofu. It wasn't until he was done and that he asked for more fish, that we realized that he didn't know it was tofu.

I was then left with a dilemma: let it slide and hope that he doesn't ever realize that he likes tofu or explain that it was tofu and thereby put back into his hands the decision of whether Mr. Bacon really does rule over Monsieur Tofu.

Ultimately, we opted for the latter. I'm putting my faith in Mr. Bacon to establish his dominance in my son's eyes.

You're my boy, Bacon.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

She Makes Cheese

There are many things that I apparently don't know about my wife, which Finn has kindly pointed out to me via his Mother's Day card from daycare.
  1. I didn't know there was a firetruck song, much less that Finn and Kitty sang it together. I can only hope it's as good as the Schoolbus Song, which consists of the lyrics "Round and round" repeated roughly 437,000 times.
  2. I had no idea that she and Finn preferred purple lines to other colored lines. That would explain, however, the purple lines on the table and the wall.
  3. I had no idea that she made cheese. I find this particularly surprising as she has always claimed to be lactose intolerant. I like cheese and I am now sad that she has never made cheese for me.
Lastly, I had no idea that Finn's penmanship was so good. Truly a lost art these days, particularly with a toddler that spends most of his time texting Layla on my iPhone.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

The Mommy

Dear Kitty,


As you decide how you would like to spend your day, I would like to state for the record that the reason that I wanted to do brunch tomorrow instead of dinner has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that ESPN will be televising the finale of the Yankees-Red Sox series from Fenway at 5 PM.


At least, that wasn't the original intent, but upon reflection, it does kind of make sense, doesn't it?

Of course, it's your day so it's your call. Don't let the fact that Finn & I spent the day with you today toiling through the annual West Seattle Garage Sale checking out all of the broken & dirty toys and krap-knacks that our neighbors are selling for way too much money sway your decision.

We enjoyed it. Really. Because we were with you. And you're the best.

To all of the mommies out there, both Ninja-related and not, have a fantastic Mother's Day. Have a glass of wine, put your feet up and above all, get as far away from the rest of us as possible, because though we mean well, I can't guarantee that we can make it through the day without pestering you.

Consider yourself warned, Mommy.


Thursday, May 6, 2010

Reverse Psy-cat-logy

Cash: Meow.
Finn: No Cash, you can't have any salmon.
Cash: Meow.
Finn: OK Cash, have some salmon.

Monday, May 3, 2010


This post was supposed to be about our amazing power over our son, back when I started writing it last week. Ah, last week. The glory days of manipulation.

Before the picture at right was taken.

I was going to write a post about how utterly powerless Finn is in the face of our awesome reverse-psychology mind games. How we had learned to easily bend Finn's will to our own and how our lives were guaranteed Easy Street from here on out.

Finn was supposed to be washing my car as I typed this.

Turns out we blew it all. We flew too close to the sun and Icarus-ed our way out of early chores and, more importantly, a non-whiny two-year old.

In other words, we wasted all of our reverse-psychology mojo scoring hugs.

As previously discussed, Finn's never been one for quiet snuggling. His "snuggling" is more of the Greco-Roman variety. This leaves a big hole in our lives where hugs should be. Enter reverse psychology.

"Finny, can I have a hug?"
"Don't you dare give me hug."
"I want hug."


Turns out it works exactly 37 times. No more, no less. And once those 37 times are used up, you end up with a toddler who refuses to walk another step and sits down in the middle of the road crying. No matter how many times you try the, "Don't you dare get up and start walking back to the cabin" move, all you've got is a crying Ninja with wet pants.

Not only does this make it difficult to complete a neighborhood walk, it also severely limits my entertainment options. Without manipulation (and hugs), I'm left with using Finn's toys to play Stuffed Chicken Basketball and Laundry Basket Basementball while he runs around the house ignoring me.

Luckily I'm very good at those games. I'd tell you how they're played, but then you'd know when I'm cheating and we can't have that.

In fact, whatever you do, don't you dare let me win at Laundry Basket Basementball.

Monday, April 26, 2010

They grow up so fast

Mommy: Are you my baby?
Finn: No

Mommy: Is Hootie my baby?
Finn: No

Mommy: Is giraffe my baby?
Finn: No

Mommy: Is kitty my baby?
Finn: No

Mommy: Is Daddy my baby?
Finn: No

Mommy: Yes, he is. Daddy's my baby.
Finn: Layla's my baby. She sleeps in my bed.

Whoa. You didn't see that coming, did you? As previously discussed, this kid is WAY ahead of me.

Sorry Jena.