Little m Long a

The phone rang about 12:45.  This is not particularly significant for our phone typically rings throughout the course of the day.  It’s but one of the many ways that we keep in touch with the world around us.  So the phone ringing at 12:45 caused little reaction in me other than the immediate thought that I should answer it.

A quick glance at the caller id told me it was my mother-in-law.  Again, no significant reaction.  I talk to my mother-in-law on a daily basis.  I figured that she was probably calling to let me know she would be bringing the kids home from school.  In fact, I may have uttered a tiny, “Sweet!” just before I answered.

“Hey, Ed.  Where are the twins?”

“They’re right here with me.  Eating lunch.  Why?”

“Weren’t they supposed to start school today?”

“No.  They start on Friday.  They may start on Thursday but the teacher said she would call if that’s the case.”

“Well, I just talked to their teacher and she’s looking for them.”

“Why?!”

“She said she e-mailed you.  Said they could start today and be here all week.”

“Great.”

So it seems that I forgot to send the twins to school.

On their first day!!

So on a hugely monumental milestone in the lives of my kids, a day they have been anticipating since the last day of preschool in May, a day they have anticipated even more because their older brother and sisters have been going to school for two weeks, on the first day of school —–

I forgot to send them.

Nice!

That Parent of the Year contest is pretty much a landslide in my favor.

I’ve had visitors today.  Uninvited visitors.  I’m typically a pretty amicable host and will go out of my way to make sure that my guests are comfortable.  OK, so that may not be entirely true.  I mean, chances are you’re not going to get my last Izze and if for some reason I happen to divide the last steak, my portion will most assuredly be a tad larger than yours.  But you’re not going to starve or die of thirst. Hell, there’s even a pretty good chance you can sit in my chair.  (I don’t really have a chair but if I did, I’d probably let you sit in it.)

But I get to keep the remote. Read the rest of this entry →

Zella is our very own Anton Ego.

“I don’t like that.”

Her typical critique offered at almost every meal.

Regardless.

There’s no go-to meal with the kid.  One day she might ask for seconds or even thirds of a serving of Mac and Cheese.  The next time you serve it — nothing.

“What part don’t you like, Zella?” Ive asked.

(And then making a gesture with her tiny little arm she starts at the top of the plate,) “From here … (and in a sweeping motion brings the arm across the plate to the bottom) … “to here!”

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“Take that!”

“And that!”

She was an easy target.  Her reflexes have little definition and she’s easily distracted with false moves.  I alternated stabs from ribs to stomach and back again.  She was powerless against my superior swordsmanship.

She fought gallantly though, without fear.  Laughing in the face of defeat.

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