Archive for February, 2010

Round And Round

posted by on 02/26/2010

I walk down the hall trying to remember when I last cleaned the bathrooms. I gather loads of laundry and place them next to the washer. I go into the kitchen and feel the crunchy reminder under my feet that I have to sweep the floors. I unload the dishwasher (or BISCH-WADDER if you are two) and hear you run into the room, looking for me. I don’t want to play, not right now. I have too much to do and not enough time to do it. You walk away, I notice you are holding part of the new toy Dad bought you.

I couldn’t find the instructions, so you wait. As I attempt to put the track together, I think of sneaking off to my chores once you are settled. You patiently sit right beside me as I assemble the fun and when I lock the last piece into place, 26 minutes later, you cheer and clap and give me knuckles.

So we play.

tommy

playing

train track

sweet

And it was more than enough.

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Guess Who’s Back?

posted by on 02/24/2010

I was starting to get very worried about my tiny friend, Napoleon. He made an appearance a month ago while I was cleaning the garage and I hadn’t seen him since. I had walked out of the garage and gone around to the side of the house to grab a garbage can and who did I spy with my little eye about ten feet away? Napoleon, that’s who and he looked like he wanted me to pet him. At that point, Napoleon hopped away, pissed and disappointed in me because his beauty should be documented and shared. Also, according to you guys and your rad comments the last time we discussed Napoleon’s heritage, he might be a fox/lynx/chupacabra/jackalope. From Asia.

I was convinced Napoleon hated me. I would stand at my kitchen window and scan the landscape for him two, three times a day silently wishing him to come back. I began setting whole wheat bread out for him every other morning in the same spot where we saw him last. But not the good part of the loaf, just the heels. Heels are sick and are only eaten by sickos. I really don’t think I should waste perfectly good bread on some funky looking animal that may or may not be an Asian chupacabra and will probably pick the lock and eat our eyeballs in the middle of the night.

Guess what sicko besides Troy loves bread heels?

Napoleon

I still have no idea what species we are dealing with. I researched black squirrels and they are extremely rare, like only one in ten thousand is black. They mainly reside in Canada, but have been known to live in Ohio, Wisconsin and Michigan. Apparently if you see them anywhere else, it means they hopped a train to a better life because they aren’t native to the land. I don’t really think that Napoleon looks like a squirrel; his tail has too much volume and he smiles with his eyes.

We have been thinking about getting a dog, but I would much rather adopt Napoleon. I would let him sit in the front seat of my car and take him to get french fries. People would be all “I like your, um, dog? Cat? Chupacabra?” and I would look over at him, shrug and say “That’s just Napoleon” and then drive away while quietly smiling to myself because we are blowing people’s minds. I might even enroll him in a training class to become a seeing eye Chupacabra, but I wouldn’t want him to actually help blind folks. It would just be an excuse to dress him in that cute little vest and take him into Target and restaurants. I’m selfish that way.

So here’s what we know. Napoleon likes whole wheat bread heels, does not climb trees, has ears that point backwards, hops like a bunny, enjoys the snow and wants to sleep next to my bed on a down cat/rabbit/squirrel/fox/lynx/chupacabra/jackalope bed that I had made specifically for him on Etsy.

wth

‘Til we meet again, Napoleon. Stay ninja. Momma loves you.

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