Kids say the darndest things part...whatever

Last night we were watching Survivor, which has become the only show on TV we all watch as a family.  Kristina was lamenting her horrible existence as a mom, which was played out to her exact script moments earlier on The Middle, when the mom eats some of the teenage son's toenails, thinking they were a snack, then runs away.

As she parlayed that episode into affection for the elder stateswoman Diane on Survivor, she mentioned she could do something if it were for a million dollars, which prompted this little commentary from Niko...

Niko: What do you need a million dollars for?  Daddy has a million dollars. (clearly he doesn't see my paystubs).  And if you needed money you could always just ask BahPoo, anyway.  He's a Selectman.

Yes, Niko.  Bahpoo IS a Selectman in Acton ME, where I am sure if it isn't a volunteer position, they probably pay a few scheckles per year.

Cracks me up...

Mud , sweat and tears...

I had tears in my eyes and goosebumps in 85 degree heat loading bags of cement into the mixer, as I looked up at Rick Snelgrove smiling in the sunshine, racheting in bolts, watching over all those people from all different neighborhoods and backgrounds grind out the playground.  We took a patch of dirt behind the school and turned it into Torie's Place V.  V as in Roman numeral five, as in the Snelgrove's and Mike from UtiliPlay have done this four other times. 

The most unimaginable tragedy you can imagine as a parent is the untimely and tragic passing of one of your children.  The remarkable (and for me spiritually uplifting) thing the Snelgrove's have done is to somehow morph that into a positive LEGACY of caring, passion, understanding, and giving.  Hundreds of people showed up to dig holes, get dirty, pour cement, and assemble what can only be described in our inimitable Massachusetts way as a 'wicked cool' playground.  

As near as I can tell, the recipe is this: Gather some space, time, money, people and positive spirit.  Remove any egos, pity, sorrows, regret, roots, rocks and other 'obstacles'.  Add together and mix until done.  It works. 

Until now, the Brookfield School's biggest children's attraction was a big, white rock in the front yard, surrounded, as other rocks in that neighborhood are, by fencing.   But in the back courtyard there are trees and sunshine and - thanks to the Snelgrove's desire and ability to propagate joy, hope, togetherness, caring, remembrance and just about every other positive human emotion - an enduring symbol of love, compassion and fun.  

After the cameras, politicians, helpers, trucks, equipment and rubbish were gone the kids 'tested' it, and let me be the first to tell you...it...is ...AWESOME!

Thanks for sharing, Torie.   <3

Technology

It's a beautiful sunny day, and the kids ask if they can play Wii.  Me: No, it's too nice out. Gunnar: BUT DAD! CAN'T WE HAVE ACCESS TO ANY KIND OF TECHNOLOGY!!!!?

Worms

Last night was the first soccer practice.  Kristina is dead set against anything soccer related, and personally it is number 9 or 10 of sports I can even tolerate.  But it is easy to get kids involved, Gunnar has already had some experience with it, and Nick-Nock from down the street was enrolled, so I signed the boys up and volunteered to coach.  And with youth sports being what they are these days, I can't pull up to the curb, let my kids out, and come back an hour later, or worse, have them catch a ride home with another player or coach.  It used to happen more than you'd think when I was coaching basketball.  What are parent's thinking?  He'll be alright?  I hope the coach isn't a child molester?  I'll catch his games another day/time when I don't have so many things to do? How about we make a rule: if you aren't going to watch every practice and game possible (yes, I have a job, too), then don't sign him/her up.

So Kristina's maternal instincts (and peer pressure from Dena) outweigh her distaste for a game involving much running back and forth and, unlike her chosen sport of basketball, too little of the ball hitting the net.  She comes to the field.  Which is great because the kids don't give me nearly enough grief, so she is there to help with that, along with trying to set up Dominic's old klugey soccer nets.

Six kids can cause a small bit of chaos (hell, we know from experience that 4 can, right?) and I have a modicum of soccer chops, so practice is s bit 'furry'.  One kid called me "Gramps", which I thought was a bit uncalled for.  Although my gray is showing, my waistline isn't nearly up to my shirt pocket, I did not have black socks with my sneakers,  and not once did I call anyone "sonny", even though 2 of the players are in fact my sons.  I called him on it with a loud "whadja say?" and he backed off, although his dad heard from the sidelines, and of course knows his son is a punk.  

We have 3 Nicholas', which makes learning the names easier, but directing practice harder.  "NICHOLAS!"
"Which one?"
But all in all, I think everyone had a good time, the kids got tired, and, as an added bonus for 8 year old boys but not so great for some of their moms, Walker Playground is a hotspot for big huge slimy worms.

A quick one

I try to write these down but life goes by so quickly you can't.  Yesterday morning while in the bathroom, I can hear Niko and Gunnar in our bed.  Niko says "Gunnar, we have to talk.  When we're asleep you push me".


Of course Gunnar is less interested in Niko's sleep comfort or wearing pants (he prefers to sleep au natural), and he knows I give them grief for climbing into our bed.  So he's yelling "DAD! WE"RE IN YOUR BED! AREN"T YOU GOING TO CLOBBER US?"

Riding in cars with children

Kristina and I go every Thursday to West Junior High to play hoops with our regular group of guys.  Sometimes Niko joins us, and last Thursday, Katarina (Nina) wanted to come too.  I happened to be leaving from home, not the office, so we all go in my car together.

As we pull up to the school, Niko says "There is it Nina....BASKETBALL" pointing at the Jr. High.  

Nina, without missing a beat says "ooooooooooo it's basketbally!".

There's like a hundred of these a day.  We cannot keep up, and will likely not remember a fraction of these gems.

Despicable Dad

"Gunnar sure has some powerful puke" said Niko.

Yup,  He sure does.  

With the girls and their mommy at a bridal shower, we spent a "Boys Day" taking the dogs for a walk in the woods, then a little "Challenge Golf" with the Duarte's.  The "Challenge" being not so much in the course, but in trying to impart some sort of  'putt-putt etiquette' to our young charges.  It's difficult to putt with players walking in front of your line, 'shooting' their balls all the way to the hole like a little hockey player, or wandering off into other players holes because of the waterfalls, pirate ships, or other more interesting decorative features. But all in all, several holes-in-one were carded, and ice cream was awarded to all of the crew.  In fact, it was so exciting that shortly afterwards, Gunnar and I (much to Niko's chagrin)  retired for a great "Sunday-falling-asleep-watching-golf-and-baseball Nap"  Niko's displeasure was expressed with a symphony of whines, and the pressure was now on to finish "Boys Day" with a bang.  Bumper Boats and Go-Carts? Nah. Drive-in Movie? Hmmm... Kind of far to get to one of the Last Remaining Drive-Ins.  How about a regular movie guys? Despicable Me?! AWRIGHT!

So it's 545 the show's in an hour, I call Lynwood for Pizza and they're running an hour wait.  First minor snag.  "We'll grab pizza after the movie, guys...Gunnar? Gunnar?....." G-Man is down.  Rolling on the floor down.  "Daddy, my head hurts..." Second snag. Uh oh.  If G-Man is down, we're out.  "OK Gunnar, if you want to go, we have to leave now.  If you're not OK, we won't go.  But we have to leave now if you think you're OK to go the movie."  So he drags himself off the carpet (literally), we load up with Mike & Ike's and Twizzlers, and head off to Randolph cinemas.

There are some things in life that you can see coming but have no control over.  In basketball you're caught flat footed and your man gets that crucial step by you - you know you're beat.  You knock a glass off a table and it falls, in slow motion, out of your grasp to shatter on the floor.  Or the unmistakable coughing gurgling sound of your child about to vomit.  Which of course I hear just as we hit the on ramp to the highway, Gunnar's head is bobbing as his trademark mane is whipped by the breeze through the open car window.  No way this stuff is going OUT the window.  I should mention this is Daddy's 'new' (new to me anyway, and impeccably detailed) car, and the back seats were probably never used by the former owner.  Oh yeah.   Puke Soup all over the leather seat.  Niko to his credit doesn't budge.  He's like the guy in The Thing when Kurt Russell does the blood experiment and the blood in the petri dish jumps out of his hand and runs away, then turns into a pre-historic ice monster.  Scared of what's going on, but too scared to make a fuss about it.  So I tell Gunnar we're headed home, but ask should I pull over first.  He says yeah, and so over we go off the breakdown lane onto the grass.  Niko sees me exit on the highway side and now thinks it might be a good idea for him too.  I give him a Michael Corleone "NO!! NEVER!!" with a finger point for emphasis as I get my ass out of the way of traffic.  I get Gunnar out and now it is Pulp Fiction and I feel like The Wolf when he gets the call to clean up Vince's car with the dead body, brains and blood: we got clothes covered with stuff, stuff all over the seats and not much time.  His shirts gotta go, so I pull it over his head, wipe his face and arms and see how he's feeling.  He's more bummed about missing the movie at this point, so I take his shirt and get all the 'big stuff' out of his seat with it.  Shorts are soaked too so those come off.  I give him my shirt so now he has a dress and no pants, but he's drier and we can get home.  I get back in and get us out of the breakdown lane safely, and we're headed home.  "Time for Plan B, guys", as I turn around at the cloverleaf.

Gunnar is now whining about missing the movie, and I tell him as delicately as I can that even in this enlightened age, no movie theater is going to let us in with me shirtless and him pantless.  That doesn't go over well, and by the time we pull up in the driveway he gets out of the car, closes the door and states "WORST DAD EVER!"

Few things really ruffle my feathers like a slight on my Fatherhood, and I reply with "Plan B - CANCELLED!".  We need to shower him up, and it being summer, Niko probably hasn't showered in a week or so either, so in he goes, too.  I get them both cleaned up in record time and now Gunnar is contrite.  "Dad?  I'm really sorry about my behavior" he says.  I reply with, "OK Gunnar.  I forgive you".  And no sooner is it out of my mouth than he comes back with "Can we still have Plan B?"  Little bugger.  I wanted to take them anyway, and I check all the area movie times.  A show starts in Braintree in 10 minutes, and Braintree is 15 minutes away.  "LET'S GO!!" and we race to the car and bomb up Route 24.  "Dad! You're going too fast!" says Niko, and I tell him about the 'Fundamental Speed Law', leaving out the 'proper' part.

As luck, speed and light traffic would have it, we make it into the theater as the movie starts, and catch what we all thought was a hilarious take.  At the end, as the credits roll, both boys lean over in my lap and hug me.  Then Gunnar tops my day with "Dad...I love you.  You're the best Dad ever!", and I watched the credits to Despicable Me through teary eyes hugging my boys as hard as I could.