Common Sight Picture

I took my family photos to work and posted them in my cubicle (yes, I am a fat desk monkey). Everyone oohed and ahhed and gushed over them.

Now, I’m not talking about just the ladies. We assume women will fall all over baby pictures and stuff like that.

My children have the power to bring grown men to their knees. The toughest, harshest, most disagreeable men at work found themselves smiling from ear to ear, holding this 2x3 inch photo 6 inches from their nose, babbling at these photos at octaves thought unreachable by testosterone laden, teeth gritting, scowl wearing, salty, lumberjack wannabes.

“Oh my gosh, they are adorable.” “Look at that hair.” “Oh they’re so cute.” “They’re going to be such heart breakers.”

It’s genuinely pathetic.

Then, as they come back to their senses, realizing that everyone is in shock at such an emotionally soft-hearted display; before they fully recover, they look me in the eye, steel me with their gaze, and utter those three little words…

…those three little words that make me realize that they are indeed real men…

…those three little words that fully explain why they reacted to the photos the way they did, because they understand my pride in my family…

…those three little words demonstrating an almost imperceptible empathy with depths so infinite as to establish an intimate and lasting fraternal bound amongst men, amongst fathers, that cannot be broken…

…those three little words that tell me plainly that they are always there if I need them to help me hunt down, kill, dismember, and dispose of any scum that even supposes to cause my daughters harm…

those three little words:

"Get a gun."

I can’t help it; I begin to sob like a school girl, every single time.

See…there I go again…I think I need more ammunition.

Three Cute Little Thumbs Up

I took our midgets to see Wall-E.

I thought the movie was great, but the shameless marketing barrage and the inappropriate previews chocked full of sexual innuendo really chapped my hide.

The movie was rated G, and though the meat of the plot and character interaction was well above most “General” audiences, there was something for everyone and nothing that I would deem inappropriate (unless the political suggestion was intentional). Some of the previews, however, were not rated G and were quite inappropriate; discerning parent’s efforts were thrown right out the window…score another one for Hollywood.

My girls suggested that next time we should wait until the movie is about to play before we take our seats, that way they don’t have to endure Hollywood’s marketing wrath.

I have always enjoyed watching movies on the big screen, but the volume is unnecessarily loud (especially for small children), the cost has gotten ridiculous ($29 for one adult and three children), and Hollywood seldom has any pure or genuine virtue to offer. Consequently, I (we) have avoided going to the movies except on rare, proven occasion.

Wall-E proved to be such an occasion.

Considering all that Wall-E had to offer, the fact that the environment interjected negatively enough to detract from the film, has us reconsidering the value of such outings.

Photo Rip

I picked up our family photos from Sears today.

“Here’s all the pictures of your family…oh, look at the cute baby…oh my, isn’t she adorable…what a lovely fami…for an additional $20.”

What a racket?

They charge an arm and a leg for those photos in the first place, and then if they didn’t waste so much paper and ink trying to sell you those cheesy theme packages, they could probably chop half the price for crying out loud.

“…for an additional $20.”

Then, on your way out the door, after you’ve paid the big bucks at the previous sitting, they show you the finished works and then try to hang a few more out in front of you, just to sort of blackmail you, give you the idea that you can’t leave unless you plop down another twenty bucks.

“…for an additional $20.”

It’s worse than taxes.

Even more, they try and pull a total mind game on you. They use the best pose and toss in some wallets. It’s super annoying, because when you walk out of the store, they’re going to throw those pictures away anyway.

“…for an additional $20.”

What a waste; it is such a racket.

Since I totally knew what they were trying to pull, I didn’t feel bad about giving her the twenty bucks. Yeah, nobody pulls a fast one on me. I bought those pictures because it was a good deal. It was just $5 per sheet at that point, who wouldn’t buy them. You’d have to be crazy to pass up a deal like that. And we can always find takers for those pictures. For Pete’s sake, they’re adorable. It was the best family photo we’ve ever taken, and…

…

They totally worked me.

Dad, Their Biggest Fan

Today, my eldest daughter made me so proud.

Did she win the national spelling bee? Did she recite the constitution backwards while riding a unicycle and playing the Star Spangled Banner on a kazoo? Did she whip up a perfect plate of cheese fries with bits of real bacon and just the right amount of jalapeños?

None of the above, though we’re working on that last one.

She impressed her papa, the simple man that I am, by earning a gold trophy during a licensing segment of GT3.

BOOM BABY!!

Don’t pretend; you know you’re jealous. She’s cuter than your kid, she’s smarter than your kid, she makes better cheese fries than your kid, AND she totally rocks at GT3. That’s it, I’m getting one of those goofy bumper stickers that says all manner of generic stuff about my kid…except instead of being the best hall monitor at South Wiffletonville County Elementary, it’ll say she kicks butt at GT3.

For you less than plugged-in parents out there, that’s Gran Turismo 3. Yes, I encourage my children to play video games and computer games. More accurately, I play with them, and it’s boat loads of fun. I’m not going to try to argue for hand to eye coordination, motor skills, or anything else. I just think it’s fun, and they agree.

Of course, no matter what game they’re playing, if the front door opens or if they so much as hear the door keys rattle, they drop the video game controller (versus storing it away responsibly) and bolt for the door like cocker spaniels with one too many espressos building up in their bladders.

That makes me even prouder than the gold trophy.

No matter what computer or video game they’re playing or if they’re watching a movie or cartoons, if you offer to go play, they’re out the door…leaving every computer, television, light, and electrical device within reach of their grubby little fingers running at its highest setting (we’re working on this one, too). Actually, if you offer them a book or a board game, you get the same reaction.

Come to think of it, if you run a bath, they drop everything and head for the water.

MAN, MY KIDS ROCK!!!

I’m gonna go get a big foam finger, paint half my face what ever our family colors are, paint the other half of my face whatever the rest of the family colors are (actually, at least one half would have to be pink since I have all daughters…oh well), and run around the house chanting:

WE’RE #1!
WE’RE #1!
WE’RE #1!

…wait…

THEY’RE #1!
THEY’RE #1!
THEY’RE #1!

Yeah, that should do it.

Blog For Joy

I’ve always envied my wife the carefree manner in which she blogs. It’s the equivalent of throwing open the kitchen window and bellowing wistful highlights at passersby…and they stop appreciatively to converse.

My blogs tend to be more like soapboxes, lectures, or maybe eulogies. They so often require (or hopefully inspire) deep thought or conviction. Heck, sometimes it even leaves me a bit melancholy.

I think that’s why I often neglect my blogs: it’s tough to watch helplessly as the hand-basket wisps purposefully (and all too speedily) toward oblivion; and blogging about it doesn’t help much, even if 2 or 3 of the other 6,000,000,000 people on the planet do happen to express their agreement.

My wife, however, blogs joyfully and often several times a day, because she “blogs for joy.” She loves God, she loves the children, she loves being a wife and mother, she loves life, and she loves me. She is happy, and by gosh she’s gonna tell…well, everybody.

Well, let’s face it, you can’t be married to a woman like that and not have a little of that joy and love rub off on you, and by gosh I’m gonna tell…well, everybody.


…brace yourselves…