Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Childhood Mayhem in 100 Easy Lessons

I always forget about the insane to-do list killing tear I go on each summer.  For some reason all the junk I need/want/have to do piles up silently for about 10 months and then I've had it up to RIGHT HERE and viciously attack it with no rhyme, reason or sense.

You may ask if writing for CJMP is on that list.  No, it is not.

In the past week or so I have dug a scary big hole in the hardest clay God ever created, put a near-dead clearance palm tree in said hole, emptied a full-to-the-brim Mac (upwards of THREE THOUSAND duplicate pictures from 2005), changed the oil on 50% of The Fleet, spread mulch, had the A/C worked on, changed burned out fog lamps on the other 50% of The Fleet in 30 seconds (really),  tinkered with our home networking...  you get the idea.  Everybody's busy.  This is nothing extraordinary.

But the trick with us is that Jack's gotten into the act, too.  Okay, he did actually help with the oil change.  Help in this case meaning (1) he didn't run over me with the car, (2) asked 346,149 questions, and (3) prepped the filter gasket with new oil (IT'S YUCKY!), all while getting only a minimal amount of oil on him.  Which was awesome, don't get me wrong.

But 2 days ago, I didn't know his whereabouts for say, 6 or 7 minutes.  That calculates out to something like 4 months in JackTime.  So I got curious and went for a look-see.  I found him in the front seat of the truck with (in no particular order):
  • a pair of motor oil-soaked work gloves
  • Majesty's iPhone
  • a Weapon of Nerf Destruction
  • a green Sharpie
I don't even want to fathom his to-do list.  From the evidence:
  1. Sharpie mural of Guernica spanning the truck's roof lining
  2. 5W-30 glare-reducing protective windshield coating
  3. Mount .50 cal Nerf Gatling Gun
  4. Record and share vehicular "improvements"
The close call reminded me of times on the news where they'll report that we just foiled a major terrorist plot and caught the entire sleeper cell in a Pizza Hut bathroom with inoperable bomb parts and sheepish looks.

The IttyBitty is a cute but terrible, terrible climber.  Worse than Jack ever thought about being at this age.  I caught her the other day scaling the wine rack thingy in the back of my bar like it was El Capitan.  She looks back through the curls and shoots me this glance that says, "What?  No good?"

Words from her are slowly becoming intelligible.  And that's downright neat.  Jack will finally have someone else to argue with.  We cannot wait.

OH!  I almost forgot.  Jack finished LESSON ONE HUNDWED in his reading book.  Which I think H.M. told me is supposed to equate to a 2nd grade reading level.  (I have no idea if this is true; I can't remember and am just haphazardly throwing facts around.)  But I mean, I wasn't even reading on a 2nd grade level... in second grade.

We got him one of these little guys as a reward:

And because we were sick of hearing his toy one that can't stay tuned for 2 minutes.  I think we've all gone permanently tone-deaf.  The new GEETAWR lasted about 5 minutes before its first confiscation, poor thing.


Bebe said...

Confiscated ALREADY???

El Comodoro said...

"Mistakes were made."