Where do they come up with these things?

C (6yr) tonight, well past bedtime:

"Dad, if there were no people and only dogs and the dogs got really curious...would they play with knives and cut their noses off?"

uhh...mmm...pretty sure they'd be ok.

"What if there were dragons and really mean dogs and really mean lions and people, but the people didn't have any clothes but they DID have swords."

Umm...ok? [dad scratches his head a bit here at the mental image of Sir Lancelot au natural taking on a fire-breathing lizard.]

"Who would win? Oh, maybe the people have underwear."

Right. That's slightly better. Lancelot in skivvies.

My money is still on the dragon, son.

2007 Sexton Family Reunion

This is a quick snap remix done on www.animoto.com.

Oh, and I had remarkably few pictures from the reunion! Fortunately Janey wandered around on the last day and got (almost) everyone.

Unfortunately, their "the first hit is always free" tool is limited to 30 seconds. But whoa...this is by far the best "auto-mix" tool I've seen. Best of all, it's a whole heckofa lot easier than manual editing...

Angels in the produce section...

So a few days ago, J (four years old now) and I were sitting at the table by ourselves.

Out of the blue, J announces (in his matter-of-fact-it's-settled-voice):

"Daddy, I know what angles are made of."

Wha? Where did that come from?

"Really?" I replied. "Umm...who told you?"

"Mommy did." he replied. (with a confidence seen only in four-year-olds and teenagers pending their drivers tests)

I'll bite. "Umm...so what ARE angels made of?"

"Beans."

"Beans?"

"Beans, daddy." (with just a hint of 'aint it obvious' haughtiness.)

"Beans. I see. Of course." Beans?!! Where on earth did he get that. I probed further. "What kind of beans are angels made of?"

Here he hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe green beans. Maybe white beans. Maybe squeaky beans."

At this point it was all I could do not to bust out laughing, while simultaneously wracking my brain trying to figure out where he could have got this.

I related it to Janey the next day. "What on earth do you think he's talking about?"

She thought for a minute..."Oh yeah...we were talking about angels the other day, and the kids asked what they were. I said they were a type of being...!"

Of course. Though I'm still pretty fond of the idea of St. Peter of Pods.

The gift of laughter...

Janey related the following to me, just moments ago...

So the kids were watching a "Blues Clues" christmas special today. And of course they always tie it in to Hanukkah.

At some point a Jewish candelabra is displayed and Joe (the main character in the show) asks "does anyone know what this is?"

"I know, I know" shouts G, jumping up and down.

"It's a manure!"

How to bond with the kids (epoxy not required)

A couple weekends ago, Janey had a much needed stress break. I had to figure out what to do with the mini-me's for two whole days.

Anyway, what better way to keep their attention then in the shop. aka"Dad's Domain Where No Child Shall Tread Without Supervision".

(This, of course, virtually guarantees a regular stream of attempted break-ins.)

Anyway, they've been asking to do something in the shop. Given their success the last time I gave 'em a piece of derelict electronics equipment and a screwdriver, I was pretty sure we could keep occupied.

I'd recently gone through my old stash of old/dead PC stuff and found three dead CDROM's pulled from old PC's. That, plus some donated cd players (thanks Melinda and Ron!) meant we were well and truly stocked.

After clearing off three workspaces, we set out ground rules.

1.) use the screwdrivers
2.) the hammer is a last resort
3.) please don't use the scissors to cut sheet metal.

With that, they were off with the enthusiasm of ... well, the enthusiasm of kids who are told it's OK to destroy something.

A couple of hours saw everything reduced to component scrap, with cries of "what else can we take apart? The dvd player? The alarm clocks? How bout the fridge? Pleeeeeease daddy?!"

G, displaying some of her father's pack-rat tenancies, put aside interesting bits to save in her room.

"Great", I thought, "Janey's going to love me..."

The next morning I had a brainstorm. In a rare fit of brilliance, (If I do say so myself. Rare, that is) I cut up some plywood, gave each kid a glue bottle, and let 'em loose to create their own "picture".

Even better, given the plethora of tiny motors and microswitches we discovered during our excavations we did some creative soldering and each kid had something that buzzed, twirled, or zipped.

It was a blast. It took Janey aback when she called to check on things Saturday evening and instead of tales of mr. mom woe got an (only slightly) diabolical laugh. "Oh yes dear. We're having a GREAT time!! Fabulous!"

"Want to stay out longer?"

(dads take note. That last bit insured she came home on time...)

The masterpieces:

Furthur proof the world is mad

From this list of 5 "child centered" movies that wind up traumatizing the little rugrats..

I read this, and I laughed so hard I cried. I mean...really...you've got to be joking.

(they're not joking..)

(swiped from: http://wc06.allmovie.com/cg/avg.dll?p=avg&sql=A300124 )

Doggie Poo

Plot Synopsis by Matthew Tobey


This offbeat animated short from Korean director Oh-Sung Kwon tells the story of a talking piece of canine excrement. Doggy Poo becomes forlorn when no one wants to be his friend on account of him being a mass of smelly waste. Luckily, things take a positive turn for the lonely protagonist when he encounters a dandelion sprout and an unlikely friendship blossoms between the two. Based on a 1968 children's book by Jung-Saeng Kwon, Doggy Poo was awarded the prize for Best Pilot at the 2003 Tokyo International Anime Fair and won the Viewer's Choice award at the 2003 Big Apple Anime Fest.

Houston, we have a problem...

So one of the things the kids and I love to do together is watch Mythbusters. (yes, even the almost-4-year-old)

So when the Mythbusters failed to launch Ms Kari into the air with soda bottles, water, and pressurized air, we decided to see if it could even be done on a small scale.

We discovered...well, I'll let you see for yourself. (But boy I'd be dizzy if it were me...)

Choice tidbits from the children...

So last friday I went to a father/daughter dinner with g. It was great fun, decorating a picture frame and having dinner together. However, she kept complaining that her leg hurt. While we were sitting, standing in line, back at our table. (though it didn't seem to stop her from dancing and nearly twirling into people..!)

I finally asked her where it hurt. "Front, back, inside...where honey?"

She indicated the front and kind of inside.

"Well," I told her solemnly (keeping in mind she'd been running and dancing), "maybe you should stop kicking your brothers so much."

"But dad" she replied, equally serious, "I kick them mostly with the OTHER leg."

**********************

All three kids have been doing swimming lessons this summer. It's divided into several "classes" that last about 4 weeks. C has, due to circumstances, had four different teachers for each session of his "level" (they rank the kids by skill level...minnow, trout, dolphin, stingray, etc)

At the end of the last session of the last class, he approached his mom.

"Mom, I've had four teachers this summer. It didn't work."

"Yes, son...what do you mean?"

"I'm still a dolphin. It didn't work."

Nailed it

So J is playing lasso with his spaghetti. And out of the blue he asks "where does Wonder Woman put her lasso?"

C, with all the authority a 5 year old can muster informs him: "She has a nail. In her side."

Of course. I mean, how else would you hang a lasso?

when 5 year olds surf...

C was very apologetic that he snuck (sneaked?) into the office this morning. Try as he might to find the lego starwars game, fate just wasn't with him.

And Google's suggestions weren't much help.

Cuz I'm a lumberjack and I'm ok...

Guess what we did this weekend?

We showed the love and got SAPPY! (dang but that pine's got a lotta pitch..)

(make sure your speakers are turned up...)

More info than you wanted to know...

It never fails.

In bed last night. On time. Gonna get a good night's sleep.

Cats are fed.
House is snuggly locked up.
Bio-alarm system is armed. (Gracie is in her crate)
Kids sleeping peacefully.

Midnight.
J stumbles in crying unitelligably. I manage to decypher "yucky" and "icky tummy" right before he gives a dry heave.

Ahh...THAT's what you meant!

I steer him into the bathroom, Janey takes over the mommy-comforting duties. I head into the boys bedroom to survey the damage.

Yup. Definate barfage. Fortunately localized to the bed.

Clean it up. Make a bed up for him next to me. Janey goes downstairs to sleep. (because this may be a long night and I prefer to stay up and sleep in.)

And then J starts chattering. And talking. Cheerful and resiliant, this kid is. Chatter chatter..."son, go to sleep."....silence...chatter...silence...thump...

thump.

thump.

He's playing with the (not yet used) barf bowl.

"son, go to sleep. It's night time"

"Ok dad. The other day when I was a baby I had a bad dream and then we had popsicles but I was sick and sissy took the dog and she LICKED me but I don't know if I could go potty when...."

sigh.

"Daddy, I'm going to barf now."

Whoa! Yup. Got it (mostly) in the bowl this time. Oops...looks like tinky-winky got a bit...eww. Clean everything up.

Poor kid. After that he sleeps. And after listening to his breathing become soft and even, so do I.

Birthday$...!!

My lovely daughter was introduced to American Girl, awhile back. By whom, I do not remember. But dagnabit if I did I may just have to take out a contract.

Dolls. EXPENSIVE dolls. (no, not like Antique Roadshow "this doll was originally owned by Martha Washington and is worth a bajillion dollars" expensive, but still..)

Buy a doll, one medium sized accessory (like...oh...a doll bed) and an outfit or two and we're talking iPod expensive, here.

Good great leaping purple ostriches batman...was I this expensive?!! Starwars and GI Joe figures were around $3 a pop, with the Skystriker jet and Death Star playsets a bit more scratch. (of course, had I kept mine in mint condition, maybe they could have been sold on ebay and financed my kids' toys..) ;^)

Whew.

(no, I don't need any encouragement like..."oh, it gets worse. Wait'll they get to COLLEGE." Just let me lick my financial wounds in peace for a few minutes...)

I love our kids.

(there you go...you know it's going to be something fun when he starts out the entry with "we love our kids." As in "we love our kids...but sometimes we wonder if they're actually ours..")

The other day we went into G's room. Bedtime. There was this odd...shape...covered up on the dresser.

With a towel.

Lumpy.

Large.

Very suspicious.

Of course, my daughter still not having terribly much guile it was - fortunately - covered up in plain sight.

With a curious dread, I slowly uncovered said shape.

It was a large (6-8 cup) glass measuring pitcher. 1/3 full of water. With....who knows what in the bottom.

"Ummm...what is this sweetheart?" I asked. Torn between outrage (she was obviously hiding it cuz she knew she shouldn't have it) and curious pride (given I couldn't for the life of me guess what it was, much less what it was for.)

"It's an experiment daddy."

Her almost-seven-year-old wisdom was matter-of-fact.

"We're trying to grow mold."

Ahh. Of course. And the goop in the bottom?

Flour. Beans. Misc other dry goods that had been added to the cauldron. I had this tremendous urge to cackle while reciting "bubble, bubble, toil and trouble...cauldron burn and cauldron bubble..."

(My wife always gives me wierd looks when I do things like that.)

(come to think of it, I may have done it anyway)

We had a discussion that experiments were great, awesome...but she needed to ASK for ingredients first, and have an adult help.

She agreed.

Of course, this didn't stop me from finding another "mold experiment" a week or so later. Downstairs. In the bathroom. Behind the toilet.

Fortunately this one's active ingredients were soggy TP and antibacterial hand soap.

Phew.

When relating this to my lovely wife she mused out loud "where DOES she get this?!!". I then made a critical mistake.

I laughed. And related to her my childhood experiments with gasoline and styrofoam. ("Look mom! Napalm!")

I won't attempt to describe the look on her face. Something of a cross between amazement, outrage, and unsurprised resignation. (there, I guess I did attempt to describe it.)

And the wheel turns

Some folks are good about updating their blogs.

I am not one of them. Well, that's not entirely true. http://www.itgroundhog.com gets updated with a fair piece of regularity...

Anyway.

We're back to another year. Febuary already. G is about to turn seven. Seven. Whoa.

Dad is starting to shiver thinking that she could, theoretically, walk down the aisle in, you know, like 13 years or so.

Not much news of note. Dog's getting rounder. Kids are growing up. J has become a holy terror (in a good way)

(well, not really)

He's into EVERYthing. Seemingly (and maybe this is just my perception) much more than his older brother and sister ever were.

Then again...a couple of days ago he got in trouble for filtching fruit leathers. Of course, being the Robin Hood-esque personality he is, he shared them with his older siblings.

(at least until I caught them) Their excuse was, of course "Well HE gave them to us!"

Nice try.

I found out a little later that they'd put him up to it. Figuring, of course, that he'd take the rap (in that cute 3 year old way he does) and they'd be off scott free.

MAN they're tricky. Almost sounds like something I would have done with Don...