Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Monday, May 22, 2006 Tag You're It Edited become SOMEONE slipped up and included M. Small's real name in this entry. We were down in Iowa this past weekend for Trash's mom's birthday and belated Mother's Day. But we weren't the only ones. M. Small's cousins on his maternal grandmother's side of the family were there as well. I won't get into all the convoluted interrelationships involved, but suffice it to say that there were four children under the age of five there. Staying the weekend. And it's not all that big a house. We knew this going in, of course. Trash even tried to get her mom to let us stay in a hotel, but she wouldn't have it. On our way into town Friday night, we passed the Super 8 that's six blocks from my mother-in-law's house. "Let's just check in there right now," I told Trash. We'll tell your mom that M. Small just couldn't go any farther." But my pleas fell on deaf ears. As it turned out, I was surprised to find that the place wasn't nearly the zoo I expected it to be. For one thing, when we arrived at 11:25 p.m. everyone in the house was asleep. Not that M. Small was impressed. Even though we left at his bedtime and he fell asleep in the car as is his wont, by the time we had him transferred to the fold-up crib in our guest bedroom, he was awake and ready to rock and roll. "Hi!" he kept saying, in between maniacal peals of laughter. The next morning, Trash told me that she had spent the night between one person who was throwing cars at her head, and one person who was snoring even louder than usual. She did add that every time she said, "Go to sleep," I would rouse myself enough to blearily slur, "Yeh, go seep." Trash thought this was rather "lazy" of me. I prefer to think of it as both "presenting a united front" and "leading by example." Breakfast the next morning wasn't as chaotic as I anticipated either. The babies used the high chair in shifts that managed to naturally work themselves out with little effort on the adults' part. Once everyone had had breakfast, Trash and I foisted our kid off on his grandma and went back to bed. We wouldn't have been able to do that in a hotel. Okay, maybe a much nicer hotel, but not in a Super 8. After we woke up, M. Small looked out the front door and saw his two older cousins playing outside. "Babies!" he cried excitedly, which is his word for everyone under age ten. He insisted on going out and joining them. I wasn't sure this was such a good idea, as they were busily painting the driveway with something, but once everybody assured me that the paint was chalk-based and therefore completely water-soluble, he and I joined the girls outside. Where he quickly lost interest in the "babies," and instead found his attention drawn to the "car," which he insisted on painting. Again, I am assured there will be no trace of it after the next rainstorm. As for the mess I was sure he'd make of his clothes, those fears did not turn out to be unfounded. After the few minutes that comprised his "pink period," he looked like he had either a) been nailed by a squirt gun full of Pepto-Bismol, or b) been in a bar fight with a Klingon. "You should see the other guy," I told his mom when we came inside. But we didn't come inside until after his first game of tag ever. "Let's play Tag You're It!" Deniece announced after a while. Now, M. Small can run, but at nineteen months he has neither the speed, the stamina, nor the attention span to keep up with a six-year-old and a four-year-old. And I wasn't about to let him get excluded. So while he was sitting on the edge of the driveway, trying to figure out how to work the various functions of the dandelion in his hand, I let Deniece touch his shoulder and say, "Tag you're it!" And then I picked him up and started chasing the other kids around while holding him out in front of me. I'm glad to say that he was able to remain fairly competitive that way. "It" changed hands quite a few times, and I'd have to say that all three kids came out even. Plus M. Small seemed to dig it, as did the girls. Sadly, I'm not as young or fit as I used to be, so between that and a series of airplane rides for all, I was pretty relieved when everyone got called in for lunch. And then it was time for M. Small's nap, and then all the other relatives and kids left early that afternoon, which was actually kind of disappointing. On the other hand, it does give me a little more time to get in shape for M. Small's next game of tag. Although by the time that happens, he'll probably be able to do his own running. posted by M. Giant 7:22 PM 9 comments 9 Comments:Soooo cute!
By M.Giant, I love reading your blog and your 24 recaps. This description: "or b) been in a bar fight with a Klingon. "You should see the other guy," I told his mom when we came inside." is totally why. I nearly spewed out my coffee this morning. Thanks for the laugh.
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Dude! How could the quality control system allow someone to put Reynaldo's real name in there?
By Helloooo... it's called a macro! Didn't you watch The Office? Dwight = Diapers!
By Speaking of Macros - which may actually work - my IT friend used to tell us tricks they would play on each other at work. When someone would get up to use the rest room, they would rush over and do things to his computer. One of the fun things they did was change his auto correct in Word, so when he typed in "the", it would change to "kill the". Apparently it takes a second or two to auto correct, so by then, he's already moved on to other parts of the sentence. Apparently, the guy turned in an "altered" report and the department was reprimanded for pranks. The pranks continue... (And people turn off their copmuter before using the rest room now)
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