10 #ParentingWin Tweets I found

We all love when we win as parents. Whether you figured out you could use the pizza cutter to cut up pancakes or your kids’ favorite song is a classic, the #ParentingWin can’t be denied. Here are ten rather amusing tweet randomly selected from Twitter.

1. A clever tip I plan on using

cape

2. When your kid is rocking out…

classics

3. What does the turtle say?

cowabunga

4. When mom makes it best…

kraft dinner

5. A just in case talent…

lock pick

6. When you find a more efficient way to play…

play phones

7. The best games…

Sleep Game

8. Wasn’t me!

stain

9. How you know your kid is a good person…

vader

10. How to catch a quick nap…

vulgar music

You can follow me on Twitter and Facebook. I’m sure you’ll find some #ParentingWins there!

How A Cookie Saved My Life

jumbo_monster_cookies3

I was walking home from school today and as I passed the grocery store I thought to myself (though I really said it aloud) “I should pick something up for dessert.” So I picked up monster cookies. These cookies are store made, the size of a man’s hand, and loaded with tiny M&M’s. Soft. Chewy. 8 cookies per pack.

So I buy the cookies and continue walking home. At the corner of McDonald’s and the gas station I push the pedestrian crossing button. Now, you might not believe me, but it’s true, I swear. I pushed that button and hole opened in the sidewalk. I peered in and there was a man down there. He looked exactly like me! I hollered down to him, “Do you need help?” He just looked up at me. So I offered him one of my monster cookies. “Mon up and have a cookie” I told him. I knew he could smell it because his nose twitched. I took a step back holding out the cookie. Lo and behold, out of the hole he climbed. So I gave him a monster cookie just like I promised. I think he smiled, then he simply walked away.

Being a curious guy, I looked into the hole again. It was empty now, but it was only about 4 or 5 feet deep so I climbed in. It was a tunnel, not a hole! I crawled in a short way and I suddenly felt myself sliding down. The tube was smooth and I couldn’t stop myself. I must have slide for at least 27 minutes.

Once I stopped moving I thought I was deep under ground, but I was wrong. I was under water! Technically, I was inside a huge bubble under water. It was a city inhabited by frog people. Two of them wrapped me up with their long sticky tongues and led me away. They took me to who I believed to be their queen. I thought of kissing her to see if she’d turn into a princess, but I kept my lips to myself. Turns out she wanted to send me to the slave pits to smash clams. Then I remembered the cookies so I offered her one for my freedom. I knew she could smell them because she licked her green frog lips.

They kick me out of their city on a green submarine that was piloted by a pirate. I don’t know where the pirate came from or why he had a submarine. I forgot to ask. Now, I know pirates are known thieves and this one seemed as slippery as squid snot. He looked at me with his one good eye and said, “Aye matey. You’ll make a fine deck hand on my pirate ship.” I always thought it would be fun to go sailing and work on those big, tall ships. Argh, the pirate life is not for me. So I offer him a monster cookie to drop me off somewhere safe. Preferably home.

Apparently pirates don’t negotiate, but they do eat cookies. That pirate left me on a deserted island. I walked around the island to find a way off. No luck. Then I walk through the woods and what do I find there? A giant, silver, flying saucer. Well it wasn’t flying, it was landed. Once the aliens saw me, though, they took me aboard. I thought for sure I was going to be probed in parts that aren’t for probing. They buckled me into a seat instead. Then it became a flying saucer. They said we were going to their planet, Xorgon and I would be put in the human zoo. I told their leader that I had cookies and he (she? I couldn’t tell) could have one if they’d take me back to Earth.

Now we’re on our way back to Earth, so I was told, when we suddenly stop. Lights of all colors were bouncing off the walls. Turns out we were stopped by intergalactic police! I told the leader alien the best way to get out of getting a ticket is to flash some boob, before I realized she didn’t have any boobs. Anyway, they arrest me for smuggling humans, even though I was the human. I’m riding in the back to the police rocket and I say, “Excuse me, Officer, I have this delicious cookie you can have if you don’t put me in jail. Police are easy to bribe. They’ll do anything for a cookie.

I’m sitting in the police station of some far off planet when Chief tells me a taxi is coming. You should have seen the size of this rocket ship taxi!  I climb in the co-pilot’s seat and we take off for Earth. We were going so fast that if I had had hair it would have caught fire. This taxi driver was a maniac! “Slow down!” I shout. He laughs, his fat belly jiggles, and a button popped off his shirt. Fortunately, he slows down. “Give me a cookie,” he says, “Or we’ll go even faster.” I had no choice but to give him one.

The taxi drops me off on Earth. I could tell something was different but couldn’t quite place it until I heard a thunderous sound and felt the ground shake. I could only stand in awe as a 40 foot T-Rex approached. It roared a monstrous roar. I threw a monster cookie at it and took off running. Then I saw a shimmery blue oval hovering in front of me, like a wall. With a terrible lizard wanting the rest of my cookies I had no choice but to jump in.

I found myself in a dark room. It smelled of dirt, felt like rock and was too short for me to stand up in. So I sat in my dark room and ate the last monster cookie. I must have sat there for at least 27 minutes when suddenly a bright light shone down on me. I squinted and looked up. “Do you need help?” I heard someone ask. I couldn’t see him because of the bright sunlight in my eyes. “Mon up and have a cookie,” I heard him say. The cookie smelled so good it made my nose twitchy. So I carefully climbed up out of the hole, took the cookie, smiled and walked home.

And this, kids, is why there is only one cookie left.

simone-weil-philosopher-quote-imagination-and-fiction-make-up-more

Dropping the Average Age of the Church Choir

I thought I would write about how I sunburned my scalp today because the sun is a bastard. I mowed this morning and went to the park this afternoon, all without a hat. Bad mistake when you’re bald. It’s wasn’t warm today, so I never gave a hat a thought. 

I thought I would write about the history of Victoria Day, which is today here in Canadaland. It’s why there was no school today, too. However, I don’t want to sound like Professor Flitwick, so I refain from the boring history lesson. 

I thought I would write about how one TV/phone/internet company wanted us to switch to them and they offered a really good price to do so. So we did. Then our current provider called us to ask if price was the only reason we were switching. When DW told them, “Yes,” they offered to drop our rate to the competitors rate AND add in few extra channels. HBO. Some movie channels. We’ve all played that game, though.

I thought about doing the Grr to Great post that Eli- the Coach Daddy did, and I will, just not today. 

I want to share with you something that makes us parents proud – our kids willingly going to church. We aren’t overly religious people. We just attend church every Sunday. We don’t go ’round preaching the Word of God, or anything. We’re just trying to stay outta Hell. 

One Sunday, many weeks ago, as we entered church, DW told Bang to go pick a seat for us. He chose the very front row. You know, the pew reserved for those who show up late. Fortunately, we were off to the side and not dead center. It was where he could see best, though. DW and I were instructed by the littlest one to not sit with him. We were to sit behind him. 

Well, excuse me, Mr. Too Cool For Mom And Dad.

Weeks of this go by. Then it comes time for First Communion and where does Bang sit that morning? Front and center because he wanted to sit near the first communion kids. We allowed him because, thankfully, no one else minded. 

He has sat there every Sunday since. His brother and parents still sit in “their spot” (think Sheldon Cooper) while Bang goes to sit front and center by himself. At our church the words to the songs are projected on to the wall behind the choir. Bang would read the words and sing his little heart out over there in front of the choir, which consists mostly of retired women and couple men. They loved him – sitting in a pew by himself, singing away, ocassionally glancing over at his parents to see if we were watching him. I’m pretty sure he was flirting them, too. 

Then last week after church he asked us if he could sit with the choir! We said sure, as long as it was okay with them. Yesterday, he took his usual seat front and center. Once he saw the choir congregate he made his move. He came back to us to ask our permission. I’m guessing the choir ladies had said sure, as long it was okay with mom and dad. He went back to them and took his seat with choir, looking out at the congregation, beaming. One of the ladies handed him a hymnal and showed him the words and he sang and sang and sang. Some of the songs he knew by heart from having sung them so many times already and didn’t need the big book of songs. He’s already looking forward next Sunday.

It made us proud to see him up there singing. Hopefully, we’ve showed him anything is possible if he just tries. 

What made us just as proud as him singing with the choir was him reading the words to the songs. 

What have your children done to make you proud?
You can make me proud by following me on 
Facebook and Twitter

Sunday Share: Week 21

If it’s not raining y’all, it’s windy. 70 kph wind gusts yesterday and today. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was a bit warmer, but it’s only 10C (50F). At least it’s not raining. Or snowing. Friends of ours in Newfoundland got snow yesterday. Not just some flurries or a dusting, but enough for snowball fights and sledding! Here we are approaching the end of May and they’re still out snowshoeing. 

So, whether you’re enjoying sunshine and warm weather or out building igloos, here is this week’s share. Happy reading!

Sauce Box Site

The capital of Illinois is what?

The Todfather

A sit down talk with dad about sleeping arrangements…

Rhythm In Life
Summertime! A poem…

Stories of Four Boys
About having all boys…

Riddle from the Middle

On bathrooms and bears…

 

To the Boy in Walmart

Dear Brayden,

You have solidified my faith in humanity. I still believe the world is a good place regardless of all that is happening throughout. You, sir, have scored a point for the good guys. Your honesty, your integrity, your desire to do the right thing has set you apart from so many others.

When Wanda* called me from Walmart this evening after we had just been there, I was a bit nervous at first. Then she asked me if had a son. I do. And I was still a bit nervous. Did she see him do something he should not have? He had wandered away from me for a minute. Then she asked if he had lost anything there this morning or this afternoon.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

I wasn’t aware that he had but I told her I would ask him. So I stepped outside and hollered to Crash*. Then I had to tell Wanda from Walmart that he’d be right here, he had to climb down out of the tree first.

Finally, he came to me and I asked him he had left anything in Walmart. He couldn’t remember losing anything. Wanda asked his name and how to spell it. I told her and she asked if he lost a little red zipper purse (though we call it a wallet). In it was $25. I asked Crash about it and he said it should be in the basket where it’s always kept. He went to look, but of course it wasn’t there.

It was in Walmart.

Wanda told me she made a donation on either behalf of herself or Walmart (I can’t remember which) for your honesty. Wanda told us you are 11 years old. She also gave us your name and number so that my son could call your son and thank him. Which he did. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to connect directly, but instead left a message thanking him.

Your parents are perfecting this thing called parenting. They have themselves a young man who understands honesty. Who not only understands the difference between right and wrong but can follow through with it. Walmart thanks you. I thank you. My son thanks you.

The world is still a good place and you have scored a point for the good guys.

Sincerely,

A Hopeful Parent

*Names have been changed.

Go Ask Your Father: Goose, First People, Anuses, and Staying Up Late

The sun! The heat! The grass is growing fast than the boys, which I didn’t think was possible. The weather is here, wish you were beautiful. (Thank for that line Jimmy Buffet) I just realized you can change the meaning of that statement with a simple coma. Wish you were, beautiful.

Bang is here crushing my candy. He beat a level for me, as he commonly does.
Me: Thanks for beating that level for me, bud.
Bang: You’re obviously welcome. I am the master, you know.

1. What’s a baby goose called?

A baby oyster is a spat. A baby kangaroo is a joey. A baby jellyfish is an ephyna. A baby pigeon is a squab. A baby spider is a spiderling. A baby alpaca is a cria. Many animals are pups or calves or chicks. A baby goose, though? That’s a gosling. Like the Ryan some females tend to drool over like I drool over a cheeseburger. It’s an old word, apparently. It’s from the Old Norse gǽslingr, from gás ‘goose’ + -ling. You know something else that is Old Norse? Thor, the God of Thunder.

canada-gosling

a baby goose

ryan-gosling_cannes-63rd

not a baby goose

 

 

 

 

 

2. Who were the first people on Earth?

Depends on who you ask. If you ask Ken Ham the Christian Fundamentalist, Adam and Eve were the first people. He also believes the Earth was created 6,000 years ago. However, if you ask Bill Nye the Science Guy (BILL BILL BILL) the Earth is four and half billion years old and the first humans evolved from apes and human evolved around 2.8 million years ago. But that’s arguable among scientists. Just because it looks human doesn’t necessarily make it human. Did it use tools? How did it get food? How smart was it. I know some people who still haven’t quite finished evolving from their neanderthal status.

3. What’s an anus*?

Here’s how it happened. We were watching a video on YouTube and a family was at a science museum. They were looking at planets. The dad says, “There’s yer-anus.” His son then asks, “My anus?” And then Bang asks his question. The simple answer? It’s the hole your poop comes out. The long answer? It’s the end of your digestive tract. Food leaves your small intestines (10′ long) and enters your large intestines (5′ long). This is comprised of the ascending colon, the transverse colon, the descending colon and the sigmoid colon. From there it’s stored in the rectum until it’s ready for expulsion. Whether you’re ready or not.

*also called – one eyed pirate, the stink eye, a poop chute, President…

4. Can I stay up late?

If you have wee ones you have heard this question many times, no doubt. If you read Go Ask Your Father you have read this question before. Tonight, Crash is at a friend’s house for a sleepover. It’ll be the first time he’s gone farther from Nanny’s for a sleepover without his parents. So it’s just Bang and his parents playing Candy Crush. (I’m only at level 439. DW is at 560) Since it’s now 8:00 pm and he’s still awake, the answer is yes. Plus the Orioles play the Blue Jays in Baltimore so that game is on T.V. Will I be up late? Yes, yes I will.

If you’re up late, click here to check out (and follow!) my Facebook page. Then come back and click here to check out (and follow!) me on Twitter.

5921e7e5bb074006a445a31c1f239d4e-kids-parenting-parenting-memes

Questions I Asked My Kids: ep 43

1. If you were to make a new flavor of potato chip, what flavor would you make?

Crash: Strawberry
Bang: Strawberry apple
Mom: Asiago something

2. If you create a new baseball team to play the Orioles, what would their name be and what colors is their uniform?

Crash: The Benchwarmers and they’d be light brown and white
Bang: Their uniform would be yellow and black and white. Their name would be The Jeffy Bronze
Mom: [stares blankly]

3. If you had to change your name to something in this room, what would you be called?

Crash: Janigle (one of his stuffies)
Bang: Wall
Mom: George (as in Curious George)

4. If Canada were to make a new coin, who’s face should they put on it?

Crash: My own
Bang: Pop Pop’s
Mom: Mine

5. Would you rather have 4 eyes or 4 arms. Why?

Crash: 4 arms so I could do the dishes faster (he doesn’t do dishes)
Bang: 4 arms so I can floss my teeth faster
Mom: 4 arms so I can get more done

6. What would be the coolest why to go to school?

Crash: Bugatti
Bang: Airplane
Mom: Hovercraft

7. What would be the grossest jelly bean flavor?

Crash: Snot
Bang: Hippopotamus
Mom: Poop

8. If you had to describe yourself with one word, what would you NOT use?

Crash: Stupids
Bang: Boring
Mom: Skinny

9. What song do you want to listen to in the truck?

Crash: That song on Google Play music that made us laugh (it was on Ini Kamoze station, but I have no idea which song or who sings it)
Bang: Here Comes the Hotstepper
Mom: Play that Song

10. What animal would be funny to bring into our house?

Crash: Elephant because when he sits on the couch he’ll break it
Bang: Another Piper (quaker parrot)
Mom: Monkeys who fling poo at Hubband

Am I My Child’s Servant?

The scene: 7 am in the morning, breakfast time. Dad is in the kitchen. 9 year old is in the living room.

Dad: [Hollering from the kitchen] What do you want for breakfast?
9 yo: [Hollering from the living room] A bagel.
Dad: Come on out and make it.
9 yo: Can you make it?
Dad: No.
9 yo: UGH! [stomps on floor]

Am I my child’s servant? I’d like to think I’m not. When it’s pancake morning, I’m more than happy to make them because I’ve seen the resulting mess. That, and I don’t yet trust the 9 year old to use the stove.

We’re working on it, though.

But a bagel? He can make that. And no, I’m not going to pour his milk for him, either. I’m afraid if I were to tend to his every wish I’d soon be wiping his arse and picking his nose for him.

Eww. Gross.

Isn’t that what people think happened to the Millennials? They were coddled and babied and had everything done for them so now they can’t boil water. I’ve heard stories (and I’d like to think they’re just stories, but they’re probably not) about parents attending their child’s job interview. About parents calling university professors to get their child’s grade changed. About Millennials who eat out because they can’t cook.

I apologise to those Millennials this does not apply to.

We’ve been working on independence. Mostly in the morning getting ready for school and in the evening getting ready for bed. His ADD doesn’t really help the situation, but knowing why he’s having so much trouble is a step toward helping him better. Prior to helping him he needed constant supervision to keep him on track. He couldn’t get into pajamas and brush his teeth without being distracted by his brother, or books, or his toenails. So I would stand outside his bedroom door and give constant verbal reminders on what he should be doing.

I’m afraid of what might happen should this continue into his teen years or even later. Should I just resolve the fact that he’ll be living with us forever? Perhaps long enough that I’ll be so old I can’t cook my supper. Maybe by then he’ll have it figured out and will be able to take care of his elderly parents in their final years. Perhaps if we can get him a good job he’ll be able pay for the house and the groceries and the hover cars.

So  we are creating an independent individual today so that he can make his own bagel. If he can make his own bagel he won’t be hungry in school. If he’s not hungry in school he’ll be able to focus better. If he focuses better he’ll learn more. If he learns more he’ll get into university. If he gets into university he’ll get a good job. If he gets a good job he’ll be able to afford to feed himself. If he can feed himself he can make his own bagel.

And wipe his own arse.

The Untitled Post or The Cursed Cursor

Blink

Blink

Blink

Mocking me. Staring at me with it’s thumbs against its temples
Fingers splayed like antlers on a moose,
Tongue stuck out, nose wrinkled.
Teasing. Taunting. Telling me there’s nothing to write,
Nothing in my head.
Yet my fingers tickle the keys, pointers on the homerow.

Waiting.

Waiting for something to materialize through the brain fog
Like smog that sits stifling cities
The voices are talking
But it sounds like they’re under water
I’m here trying to hear
To clear the muffled sound
So I can write something you will want to read

But all the cursor does is sit on a field of white
Mocking.
Teasing.
Taunting.

Blink

Blink

Blink

 This is what happens when I sit and stare at white screen for too long. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Music Monday: Three Finger Shot

No. This isn’t a post about alcohol. Though it easily could  be. Drinks taste so much better when these guys play. Beer goggles except in reverse.

It is about a small band of friends who are also friends of ours. DW sort of grew up with the lead singer, Tony. So they go way back…

Their first album entitled Stories From A Small Town was released  April 3rd of this year. I would class them as a Celtic rock band. With class. Stories From A Small Town consists of six songs. Of which, 3 are originals and one is Tony’s from a former band. (I think)

They sound like a Guinness tastes. Delivered with a powerful voice, you can’t deny the talent this band wields. Their Celtic Rock tunes will make you wish you were Irish. They’ll make you want to sing along, even if you can’t carry a tune with two hands and bucket. Yet, on the flip side, they can slow it down and swoon you with songs you swear they’re singing just for you.

Then they hit you like a Three Finger Shot.

Find them on the internet. Find them on Facebook. Download them from iTunes.