The cops

Bradley and I were horsing around, like normal and i could hear some police sirens outside. I asked the little super star if he could hear anything. He got real quiet and then said, "It's the cops!"I asked if they were gonna come take him away. He didn't think muck of it and said nope. Then I asked if he thought that the cops should take mommy and daddy away. Again, not really thinking about it he changed his answer to yes. I was curious now so I asked him why. Just cause was his reply. I told him that if mommy and I got taken away then he would have the house to himself. A big smile smirked across his face. It seemed that he thought that would not be such a bad thing. I asked him if he could make his own food. "No." he answered disappointedly. Then I asked If he could make his own drinks. I started to see that smile on his face turn upside down. "No." he answered again. I had the realization of how much a mom and a dad are like god to a 3 year old. He started to cry and he hugged me. I asked him what was wrong and he was under the impression that the cops were going to come take me away right then. I assured him that the cops were not gonna take me away and told him that the cops are our friend and the just want to help us unless we do something real bad. ( This might come in handy the next time he empties the hand soap out on the carpet.) I think Bradley knows how much he needs Jessica and I, but it is nice to have things put into perspective sometimes. Then I realize how much I need him too.

Night of the living Brad

Last night we went to bed like normal. A little later than I would like, but that is normal I guess. About 3AM I hear "Dad?" Bradley was up. I answered him and asked what was wrong. He told me that his legs hurt. This has been happening from time to time. I think he may be having growing pains, though if his family genes have any say, he might be almost done growing. I figure I am as tall as I am ever gonna be and happy to be as tall as I am. Bradley is almost caught up to his aunt Lisa and, lets face it, at her 4'11.5" anyone taller in my family is lucky. We have a thing where we like to be at least 5 feet even. Enough bashing on the short crowd. Bradley came in and I rubbed his legs for a bit, and like normal it helped. I said that he needed to lay down in his bed, but I had forgotten about the bad guys that live in his closet. I have been meaning to tell them that their rent is way past due and they need to vacate the premises, but I am not real sure that would quite do the job. I told the little tyke that I would lay down with him and that was enough to move into the other, toy covered, room. We grabbed his blankets and laid down on his low rider bed. He was hot! I noticed as I put my arm around him. I told him that I would Check his temperature and stay put. Like a good little puppy he did. Thermometer read 103.8 Fahrenheit. I couldn't recall what medicine he needed so I had to wake up Jessica. I still can't recall what is was, but I took care of it then and tried to talk him into going to bed. He insisted that I check on him like always and when I agreed he said that I wasn't going to. I told him that I had to wake up in an hour for work and then I would check on him. As soon as he said ok, he was asleep. All of this is kind of a pain, and today at work was kind of brutal, but it sure is a neat thing when I can make him feel better.

Snoopy and a contacts case

What do snoopy and a contacts case have in common. Well, this post is not of something that Bradley and I did together. It is not so much of the fun moments that he and I shared or even of great plans that I have made for he and I to create memories that we may one day look back and laugh about. This is about cause and affect. How because of my sometimes under appreciated son, I get to (with grateful help from my lovely wife.) repair things that normally would function for years on end without more trouble than routine maintenance. So now, what do the snoopy toy and a contacts case have in common? They were both strategically placed to clog both of the toilets in our house. Of course, one item per bowl and neither the plunger nor the drain snake could budge either of these items. Jessica and I are fairly new to home repairs, especially of this nature. Sure I have unclogged a toilet or two in my day, but this extraction took some special skills.

We first unbolted the porcelain monument from the very ground that it was bolted to and lifted, only to find that I had not examined the situation carefully enough. The water line was still hooked up. After turning off the water and draining as much as I could from the tank and bowl combination, we tried again. This time we had more success. After setting the unit aside we ran the snake down the drain to make sure that the problem was not on that side. I didn't figure it was, so we ran the snake up the underside of the toilet. A noise! I kept ramming the snake and Jess was able to fit her hand in and touch the foreign object. She was not able to get her fingers around it and that was a problem. after doing a full summer salt and draining the rest of the water onto the floor I ran the snake up again and after much fondling she was able to pull a snoopy toy from the bowl. I was much like the rabbit from the hat trick, except nobody in the room wanted to pet this bunny. We were able to put it all back together and set off to the other clogged toilet. I guess I gave away the ending to that expedition, but we did have to use the same process and we thought ahead and were able to control the water loss and mess making a little more.

I recall when I was young, my dad emerged from the bathroom with a missing shampoo bottle in hand and a displeased look on his face. I now have a feeling in my heart toward my son that may be similar to the feeling that my father once had for the children that lived in his home. I hope that he can look back and laugh at it, or at least he can laugh at my humbling experience and if I live long enough I hope to see a similar look on Bradley's face.

Trick-or-Treat

I got to take the little man out Trick-or-treating last night. that was a hoot. He was dressed up as a "scary skull guy" in his words. We let him pick out his costume earlier this month and that's what he wanted to be more than anything else on the rack. Lucky for the wife and I, he also picked one of the cheapest things on the rack. It was amazing to me how muck you can spend on a Halloween costume that could only be worn once, because next year he would be bigger and he'll want a cooler costume next year too. Of course next year the scary skull guy costume won't be so scary anymore. He'll probably have to have blood and guts hanging out or and extra head or something like that in order to be scary enough.

He and I set off to the great wide world of out neighborhood on an excursion to get candy. I'm not sure that he recalled last year all that well at first, but once we visited a few people and he saw candy in his little collapsible pumpkin treat basket, he had the idea down. Off to the next hose we went. He was determined. He probably would have knocked holes in the doors of the people that weren't home if I hadn't stopped him, at first. Soon he realized that this, spending time on people who aren't home thing, is counter productive. We had a TON of kids trick-or-treating the neighborhood at the same time. They would all share the valuable information that "Those people aren't home" or " I saw some other kids knock at that house and no one answered." Lest run to the next house with the porch light on. We didn't want to waste any candy getting time on people that might not be home.

His scary skull guy costume, complete with mask and gloves, was kind of hard for him to see all of the stairs on every porch. He did real well at taking his time up and down the hazard ares, but once he was on the beloved flat ground again, it was game on. There was one house where there was a lot of monstrous sized steps, but he ran to them as fast as his bony little skeleton legs would carry him. He ran half way down the walk way until he caught one of the sidewalk squares that was slightly higher than the rest. Candy went flying everywhere. It's hard to see a facial expression with a mask on him, but i knew what was up. He regained his composure and started to clean up his candy. He took his time and looked around, because he didn't want to miss a single piece. then..... about 4 million kids ran to the doorstep in front of him. One angry mother yelled at all of the kids and made them split like the red sea, while Bradley dusted himself off and walked up the stairs to get his candy. He seemed so proud. Then the sea closed on him. fortunately for the small genes that his aunt gave him, he was able to crawl and squirm out of the mess of stretched out candy bags and came out on the other side. He got a high five from me for his mad skills.

We were almost home and we got to one of our close neighbors house. This is a place where he knows and he knows the people who live there. Our neighbor was on his porch dressed up and had on a full head rubber mask of, what seemed to be every little skeletons worst nightmare. I told him to go and get some candy and he refused. "You go get me some candy!" he said. I am a door mat for my son, but that was asking a little much. I told him that I would hold his hand and wank with him and he wouldn't budge. He said that the guy would get him. "You are a scary skull guy. Go get him." I said to the mortified masked scaredy cat. He didn't move an inch. Then I saw some other kids coming. we watched as they went up and got candy and lived! He decided that is still wasn't worth the risk and so we came home.

He ate a little bit of his newly acquired loot, but seemed to be more interested in answering the door and handing out the candy. He was a little slow at it and if the impatient little ghouls started walking away before he could open the door, he would yell "Hey! I have candy for you!" and the whole herd would stop and return for their treats. By the time the night was over we had about 6 pieces of candy left. We may need to buy more candy next year. I am curious to see if he wants to go play at the neighbors house again soon, after seeing the masked horror on the porch that he was unable to get past for a piece of candy. I guess I now know how to take candy from my son.

A just reward

We got Bradley a Hot Wheels track. This thing does it all. from an astounding height of 20" the race car drops down a three length track into a double 12" loop and sends the mini vehicle through a plastic barrel and flag off of a jump that no one less than a scale sized professional stunt driver could survive. Of course once you put other cars, books, or a 10 story cat (WRX) in the way, not even the most skilled drivers can out maneuver the obstacles.

Bradley loves playing with his cars and who am I to get in the way of a young boys every whim of the week? I am only half serious of course. the cars thing has gone on for quite some time. It's almost like he was raised in a family that has something to do with cars, or maybe he just saw a movie that had a car in it. He has his favorite cars. one is a Porche Carrera GT and the other is a C5 Corvette. Other than those two I am allowed to play with his cars, but only if I am playing with him. He has kind of a hard time sharing when it comes to some things, but I guess that may be part of the raising an only child thing. I tried to get him interest in the same kind of cars that I want to play, because I become tired of driving a car on my own leg until Bradley scripts that he will crash me and I have to pick another car from the unwrecked ones. of course he follows through with the little play that he has written to the letter and even has dialogue worked out that I have to say in order for the show to go on. I grow tired of saying "Ouch. That hurt." over and over, but he will roll on the ground laughing about the lines that he has written for me. I feel a little like the comic relief for my single three year old audience. I think if his is the only vote that counts I ought to win an award of some sort.

So, the two things that Bradley loves to do with daddy the most has got to be, playing cars and fighting. Just the father son wrestling that every father does with his son at some point or another. you know, son punches dad in the junk and dad falls over on the kitchen floor. I can't help but smile about it later, once my manhood returns to a state of not in pain anymore. though, I sometimes wish that I was wearing a cup so his little fists of fury could get a taste of their own hard plastic medicine. I guess that I have no one to really blame except myself. We have wrestled and rolled around since he was just a littler version of me.?.?.? That didn't quite sound right, but you get the idea.

The whole point of this thing is, I tire of lying on the floor of what ever room he decides to instigate a sudden death cage match. I tried to get him interested in Xbox racing games, but they may be a bit advanced for him still. at least the ones that are more exciting than watching paint dry. The Hot Wheels track could turn into the perfect game. He still gets to play cars and I get to rearrange his track and help crash stuff with less likely hood of getting racked. It seems an odd reward for a death blow to the balls, but he's three. of course, he can only ride that train for so long. Sooner than I really want to think about, he will be four.