This week, these things happened:
Peanut got her first stomach virus. I think she got it off ebay. It was like the pie eating scene from Stand By Me up in this piece. My favorite part was when she was laying on her side and I asked if she was feeling better and she answered in the affirmitave thusly: Mm hmm . . . mm mmBLGHGHAAHRGHLLGL.
She's feeling much better today. To whit:
The Peanut, moving in circles, Real time: "These are the keys to open the gate. Can you open the gate. Ok Look. Ok. This is baby Jaguar(hands me Jaguar)! She's a cat. Daaddy!!! There's keys to open the gate! Looook!!" There are so many exclamation points in her world. I can spare two or three a week, tops. Then I'm all out. The gate, by the way, is a plastic janitor's cart we got her last christmas. Why a janitor's cart? Because we want her to reach for the stars, baby. Aim high, my little one. Aim high.
The Pumpkin man is finally walking more than crawling. The douche. Kid's been able to scale a 5 foot cat tree for a month and a half and crawls faster than a Segway, but he's just now pulling the walking thing together.
I was so proud when he was doing it at play group. I couldn't understand why all the other parents weren't giving him a riotous round of applause and carrying him around on their shoulders and ticker tape and a key to the city and an endorsement deal with Nike. A commercial like the recent one with Tiger Woods and his dad except it would be the P-man, shot in black and white, staring into the camera and my voice in the background just going "No. No! Get down! Get Down now! No Give me that. Ple--would you--Jesu--ok. Thank you . . . No!" He often exhausts my weekly supply of exclamation points.
In closing, this morning's conversation with my wife:
Her (peering in the fish tank) Whoa. Look at the snail. Is something wrong? It looks weird.
Me: (Looking) Oh, whoa.
Her: It looks weird right?
Me: Mm. I've seen this before. It's not good
Her: What is it?
Me: I think it has Snaids.
Her: HAW. You jerk.
Me: Or maybe it's Snancer. Or Snupus.
Her: So you're saying you think it's fine?
Me: Maybe it's Snou Gehrig's disease?
Me: It's probably just a bad case of the Snu. Ooh, wait. I think it's Snerpes.
This was at 6:20 in the morning. And this woman continues to stay married to me. Go figure.
In closing even more, I got to feel what it's like to be considered a super hero today. Maybe even a god. From the backseat of the car, the Peanut said, "Daddy, the sun's in my eyes. The sun is in my eyes daddy."
Me: "Ok honey, I know. Hold on".
Her: "Daddy, turn it off. Turn off the sun."
Me: (as we approached a tunnel) "No problem, honey."
That's the weekly update, stream of consciousness edition:
This post brought to you be Fatherhood Friday at dad-blogs.com.