Late one Night....

I don't know where he got it: Either preschool, or daycare, or at his lodge meetings. It was charming at first but now it's just painful.

When we take a trip of more than 4 blocks, Charlie announces story time. We each have to take a turn, and they all have to start with "Late one night when everything was quiet." He'll say something like, "A blue bear ran after the jeep and caught us and ate Papaw. The end." Then it's grandma's turn.

Grandma will say something like "Late one night when everything was quiet Charlie got ice cream because he was a good boy. The end." Charlie will say; "Good story, Grandma. Your turn, Papaw."

I'll tell a real story with plot twists, morals, and inspiration. My story would be worthy of a film at Sundance. James Cameron would kill for my story. Charlie will pause, and say; "Bad story, Papaw. Try again." And I will.

Each of the seventeen times I tell a story, Charlie will not be impressed and will have me try again. Finally, I'll say something like; "Late one night when everything was quiet Charlie got a spanking and had to go to bed. The end!"

Charlie will say; "You tell bad stories. Grandma, your turn."

And so it goes.

The Great White North...

Congratulations are in order-for me. I survived what we in the mid west call "snow days". These are days that give the schools an excuse to close. The daycare closes too, which is just cruel. Work does not close. Ergo, parents have to take off work so they can be locked in a house with their progeny. Yuck.

Charlie was out of school those 3 days. I know because I received an automated telephone call from the principal at 3:30 AM. These calls upset me to the point I was unable to go back to sleep. It worked out. though. The phone woke Charlie up and he was geared to go.

After 3 hours of Spongebob my brain was jelly and Charlie "got an idea" to go out and play in the snow. I was too addled to object, so we bundled up and went out. The wind chill was about 40 below, but Charlie didn't even feel it. The weather was too cold to make a snowball but we tried anyway.

I guess it was my idea to shovel the drive and walk. It warmed me up some, so we shoveled for the neighbors as well. After the third house, Charlie was ready to go in. My frostbitten feet thanked him and we hobbled in the back door. Heat never felt so good, at least until the stinging pain began as my frozen flesh started to thaw.

NOTE: Do NOT put wet gloves in the microwave to dry. They burn.

Hot chocolate is perfect after a romp in the snow. It's perfect until the sugar kicks in on a five year old. He sort of bounced off of the walls for about 6 hours.

Day two was much the same. The wind had replaced all of the snow we'd shoveled so we shoveled it again. This time I replaced the Cocoa with hot water. It didn't taste as good, but Charlie was calmer.

Day three was much different. I could not move without intense pain. Snow shovels coupled with babysitting causes severe back pain. I literally spent the day in the recliner moaning except when I was yelling at Charlie, "Do not put the cat in the dryer.", and "Pick up your toys. I need a path to the bathroom.".

Note: A five year old will jump on you while you're limping to the potty. They are also surprised when you scream in pain.

My advise? Move to the south until the kids are grown. Just make sure you're not in a hurricane zone. I hear they close the schools for hurricanes.

Wii Little Brat

I learned something this week. I learned that kids do not go to school around the holidays and they are underfoot and irritating. I also learned that they like video games.

I set Charlie up on the Wii. After I spent about an hour trying to make it work he took the controller from me and had mastered the golf and baseball games in five minutes.

He wanted me to play baseball with him, and it looked fun so I gave it a shot. I took the controller that he programmed for me and swung it like a bat to hit the virtual ball he threw. Strike. Charlie giggled and threw again. Strike 2. Another virtual throw, and I was out.

We changed sides after his perfect inning, and he proceeded to hit everything I threw. This is by a kid, barely 5 years old, that has NEVER played baseball.

Charlie looked at me with a mix of pity and disdain. "I'll play by myself Papaw."

I bet I could take him in tennis if he'd only give me a chance.