I have to give credit to Michelle for this one.

Michelle and Michael were sitting near the front of the plane on the way back from Hawaii as the passengers filed onto the plane.

Just then, everyone's nightmare -- a toddler comes aboard screaming and sobbing. His mother is carrying the car seat and a million bags and simply cannot console this baby.

As they pass, Michael mutters (pretty loudly apparently), "Stupid crying baby."

Mr. Sensitive.

Michael (3) smells good. I like to go in and sniff his face and hair when he's asleep. (He smells good when he's awake too, but he's more likely to hit me then.) Too bad it doesn't last long. Andrew (6) isn't stinky yet, but he doesn't have that fresh kid smell anymore.

Sniffing your kids is a very nice and frequently undocument perq of being a dad. I'm enjoying it while I can.

This morning Michael (3) hid himself in our bed. Michelle was playing with him to get him out.

Michelle: "I can get you out. I'm the smartest." [Uncovers Michael]
Michael: "Who's hair is the driest?"
Michelle: "Yours is. Mommy just took a shower."
Michael: "Who's still in bed?"
Michelle: "You are."
Michael: "Yeah, who's the smartest?"

Damn. Outwitted again.

Michael: "Daddy, when I grow up..."
Me: [Eagerly] "Yes?"
Michael: "I'm going to hit you with a hammer. Maybe two."

I guess if it's worth doing once, it's worth doing twice. More is more...

Michael has a new favorite toy -- a red plastic hatchet that came with some Fisher-Price camping set. He doesn't really do much with it. He seems to just like carrying it around, holding it out in front of him with two hands or kissing it lovingly.

Scare me big time.

Michael: "I hate ."
Michelle: "Why?"
Michael: "Because he cries when I hit him."

Tough guy.

You're all familiar with the "Ideal Gas Law" (gasses expand to fill the available volume). After sleeping with Michael at my parents' house, I have a corollary -- the "Ideal Michael Law" -- Michael expands to fill the available bed space. I don't know how a little three year-old can take up a whole queen sized bed, but he does.

There is also something magical about his feet; no matter where I position him and where I sleep, his feet always wind up pointed at my face (or other sensitive parts.) It's like a pain compass.

Plus, he snores like a little pig. It's a good thing he's cute and the return policy wasn't very liberal.

Michael was upset with me for some reason this morning while I was out running errands with the boys. Through his anger, he glared at me and snarled, "I hope Mommy smacks you in the face. Hard." It took all could I do to keep from laughing.

He's evil, but he's cute...

"Michael, don't throw that chair at your brother."

Crazy kid.

Michael (yes, still 3 years old) has started calling me "lunkhead." Unfortunately, both Michelle and I started laughing when he said it the first time, so there's no going back.

Not sure where he got it. It was cute at first. Now I just want to beat him. Again.