I camped in the backyard last night with the boys for the first time. We had a little fire (in a Weber Smokey Joe) to roast hotdogs and marshmallows for s'mores. The guys had a lot of fun; Andrew told us ghost stories. When he ran out of ghost stories, he started reciting poems. In both cases, the spirit was willing but the recollection was weak. We even survived a heavy squall that passed (thanks, Doug, for the great tent.) I also learned the value of a sleeping pad (which we did not have).
Finally, it's clear that I've learned from years of parenting. Andrew stepped out in the middle of the night to pee. Right before he started, I had the foresight to yell "not on the tent" and heard feet shuffling. Whew.
Well, it probably had to happen. Andrew broke his arm this week (simple fracture of the radius.) He tried to jump up to some monkey bars, missed, and fell funny. Fortunately, Michelle and I were there and had the car close by. He'll be in a cast for six weeks.
Michael, of course, is capitalizing on this. He has discovered he can inflict a great deal of pain on Andrew if he (in Andrew's words) delivers a "critical hit" on Andrew's cast. Mean little dude.
Michelle was confronting the kids about who sprayed water in the house. Michael quickly replied, "Andrew did it, and I didn't mean to do it."
Well, I guess he's got all his bases covered.
Andrew (7) and I were talking about fears the other day (not sure how we got on this subject.)
Me: "Andrew, what are you most afraid of?"
Andrew: "Michael."
Very wise.
I asked Michael (4) how he felt when he woke up this morning. He replied, "A little miserable."
What a perfect turn of phrase.
(He is feeling better except when he first gets up. He also hates his medicines, so there's always a bit of a scene when it's med time.)
Well, of course everything went fine (so far) with Michael's tonsil surgery. We were home this morning by 10:30a.
The biggest complication so far is that he wants to run around and play outside (strictly verboten today). He was banging around a bit when he first came home as the anesthesia was wearing off, but he's pretty much back to normal now. It's a bit hard for him to understand why he can't eat anything, but we keep plying him with popsicles and ice cream, so he's mostly copacetic.
Back to making milk shakes and picking up popsicle sticks...
Michael goes in to get his tonsils out tomorrow morning. He has always had really big tonsils which leads him to snore like a little pig and have some trouble with apnea. Hopefully, he'll sleep better once he gets these out. (Of course, he may not be so disagreeably funny, which would probably cripple the best part of my blog.)
This is routine surgery, and kids are super resilient. Still, as a dad, I'm nervous. More later.
Andrew (now 7): "Michael hit me with a golf club!"
Michael (now 4 and smiling): "No, it was a baseball bat."
Well, he didn't deny it at least. (Editors note: these were plastic sporting equipment. No children were hurt too badly producing this blog entry.)
Michael (now almost four) has a history of wanting to hurt me. Well, he's at it again.
Michael: Daddy, when I grow up I'm going to kill you. Maybe when I'm four.
Should be a fun birthday party.
This is another story from Michelle.
So, Michelle takes Michael (still 3) to the doctor (like you do when you have kids.) This is the first time Michael has seen this doctor. Like many people new to Michael, she doesn't know what's she's in for.
Doctor: "Boy, you're cute."
Michael (immediately and very seriously): "No, I'm dangerous."
You just can't make this stuff up.
