Thursday Morning

5YO: "You know what, I want a dog that's rainbow."
7YO: "They don't come like that. You'd have to paint it."
"I know but dogs don't like to be painted."
"Then it would be wet."
"I know, dogs don't like to be wet."
"Dogs and cats don't like to be wet. They shake it all off like this."
"Yup."
"You know what? A cat likes to be wet in the bathtub if you put fish in it."
"There's no fish in the bathtub."
"There is at a pet store."
"There's no fish at a pet store."
"Yes, there is, that's where we got Puddles."
"Puddles was a good cat."
"Puddles was a good cat, except he peed on everything."

...

Matthew the Monkey

matthew the monkey kept food on the moon
his favorite grub strewn over the dunes
who'd build a rocket to steal his burgers
or piles of tortillas filled with cheddar
red, yellow, and green curries sloshing down
gulleys of naan and rice where moon-mice drown
if you reckon you've seen a UFO
it might have been a gyro or taco
he planted six different types of pasta
next to the flower bed of lasagna
we cannot forget the ice cream and cake
afloat the middle of the coffee lake
did I forget the pizza and grilled cheese
the french toast perfectly still with no breeze
he likes omelets and bacon and biscuits
and pulled pork sandwiches served with brisket
is there anything matthew will not eat
his gluttony is extremely complete
though be careful if you visit him too
you might also end up in matthew's stew

...

The World's Largest Booger

...

the world's largest booger
was lifted by a crane
from it's former owner
and traveled here by train

the museum has a sign
"Do Not Eat The Booger"
since to a toddler mind

snot tastes just like sugar

how did so much mucus
(it's over twelve feet wide!)
fit through a nose, unless
only afterwards it dried

...

Sorry Kids

...

sorry kids

we won't walk to the zoo today
the animals all have colds
we won't drive to the moon today
too far for cars I'm told

we won't swim in the nile today
so nothing will chomp our toes
we won't gallop in Spain today
like unlucky Lucia, oh no!

we won't fly with eagles today
watch out for pointy talons
we won't drink with fish today
(an ocean is how many gallons?)

we won't ride a comet today
do they even have seat belts
we won't stroll on the sun today
our ice cream would probably melt

wherever will we go today?
come over here and look
of anywhere that's fun, I say
the best place is a book.

...

Wonder Where I Put My Brain

Wonder where I put my brain
did I leave it on the plane
flying from kalamazoo?
although I've got my canoe
luggage that I always take
did I drop it in the lake
as I fled alligators?
didn't see those in brochure
on a train or in a car
I sure hope my brain's not far
did it roll under the bed
as I sat and scratched my head?
silly me, I'm rather dull
my brain is still inside my skull.

...

A Bad Guy

Justin: "You're the bad guy."
Me: "I feed you, I love you, I take care of you, and I'm the bad guy?"
Justin: "Yeah, you're the bad guy. You're Kanjar Ro."
Harmony: "Pew pew!"

Caffeine Rush

Fat Buddha Said Play Hooky

What he really said was, "Screw you guys," but I interpreted that to mean, "Stay home, take a break, and don't bother with the rest of the world. At least for today."

So I will not shave, though I will probably take a shower, and I will sleep in, and when I do bother to get up, I will not change out of my scrubby clothing, and I will feed the kids Hostess donuts for breakfast. The kids will veg out on video games and T.V. all day, and I will not miss the looks and cold shoulders from the moms and grandparents of the world (the grandmas are the worst, it's like I'm going to eat their grandkids).

Except I will do the dishes. That needs to get done, and I think Fat Buddha can let me at least do that. I also will feed the kids, though I'll let the five year old stand in front of the refrigerator and let out all the cold air. To hell with it! Take five minutes to figure out what you want! Yes, I am cooling down the whole world!

So my kid is not going to school today. He's playing Wolverine, and the two year old is singing and eating a chocolate donut. We are all a mess, and Monday will be our day of rest.

Fat Buddha said so.

Comic #24

Blue Monday

No wonder I've been having a difficult time writing anything. I've been down all day, and didn't know why. I'm going to play with my little girl, maybe that will make me feel better.

Misinterpretation

"Justin, go get dressed! Mama Rose is coming to pick you up!"
Justin ignores me.
Five minutes later:
"Justin, go get dressed like I told you to!"
"Okay, I'll get dressed."
Justin comes back wearing this:
































Eh, what the hell...
If my kid wants to be a skeleton, so be it.

Comic #22

A Guide

Let's travel this road, you and I
you do not know this city
so I will teach you the words
you have no money
so I will feed you crackers
and apple sauce, and don't
worry, you can have my share
I will carry you when you are
too weak to walk, I will show
you places you've never been
watch out for that alley! Let's
hurry, but not too fast, for
others who have walked this
path have said "you will miss
this when it's gone" and we
can never go back, not ever.

Perhaps one day, far from here,
I will not know the city
so you will teach me the words
I will have no money
so you will feed me crackers
and apple sauce, and I'll be
pleased, you've learned to share
You will carry me when I am
too weak to walk, you will show
me places we've already been
watch out for that alley! That
is where I must go, and you
must not follow, not yet, for
you have another road to travel
and possibly, you may take
someone with you, my child.

A Conversation With a 2.5 Year Old

She looks at me.
I look at her.
She smiles at me.
I smile at her.
She grins at me.
I grin at her.
She points at me.
I point at her.
She laughs at me.
I laugh at her.
I say, "What are you doing?"
She says, "I'm eating my butt!"

Hey Woody, You Sound Sick

My kids have both Buzz Lightyear and Woody at my parent's house. I think my mom got them at garage sales after Toy Story 1&2, because that's generally how she gets all my kids' toys. These are the foot tall, talking ones, and when you press the buttons on Buzz, Tim Allen's voice says things like, "I'm awake from hypersleep, and ready for action!"

So my four year old pulls the string and Woody says, "Reach for the sky!" Only it's not Woody, it's some other guy. Not to knock the voice actor, but no one can replicate Hanks' southwestern drawl, or his characteristic twang. He has a one-in-a-million sound to his voice, and I'm sorry, but this Woody is not Tom Hanks.

My son says, "Hey, that's not Woody."

I think for a second, and I do what every parent should do in this situation: I lie. "Yeah, it's Woody, he's just sick," I say.

My two year old says, "Woody's sick!"

I say, "That's right. Woody's sick."

She nods sagely and says, "He gotta feel better."

Now I understand that Tom Hanks' time is pretty valuable. Obviously, spending 15 minutes saying 5 lines for a toy is tough when you are a big time movie star. I can see that.

I can also see that whoever made the toy probably didn't have the profit margin to pay Tom Hanks for his valuable time, and so in order to lower the price of the toy, they used some schmuck off the street. Perhaps there was hand wrangling going on, with people in suits haggling over how much that 15 minutes would cost, and buckets of lawyers writing contracts and managers disapproving them. Perhaps there were meetings upon meetings, taking up countless hours of time, with backroom negotiations that fell apart at the last moment, while a guy with a leather chair and an important looking phone screams at an intern to bring him some coffee.

That's all well and good. I'm not really trying to blame anyone. It's not Tom Hanks' fault. It's not the fault of any one business. It's not even the fault of the lady who bought the cheaper toy in the first place, and then resold it to my mom for a fraction of the cost. (It's not her fault either, by the way.)

However, something broke along the way. Somewhere along the line, the system failed, and Woody wasn't Woody for my kids. He was some other dude, some other cowboy that my kids didn't know.

So when my kids left my parents house, my son dragged Buzz Lightyear into the car, and we were off to defeat Emperor Zurg, while Woody was left behind in the big green toy bucket. Neither of my kids wanted to bring him along.

After all, Woody was sick.

Granting Immortality to Children

I had a conversation the other day where we started with science, then moved into genetics, then lifespan. Or rather the future of all of those things.

I wonder about the humans that are currently tinkering around with our DNA, like how someone would putter around in their garage on their old Chevy, and whether they will someday succeed at granting Humanity the long sought after gift of Immortality.

Just as a brain exercise, let's imagine what such a breakthrough would look like:

• I'd imagine that it would have something to do with our genetic code at a base level. I highly doubt that you could hand someone a drug and freeze their body in time. Perhaps a type of chemical solution could keep someone alive longer, but over time, I'd think the natural programming of our genes would take over and shut everything down. This means that most likely, it would have to be something you would alter before conception. A baby would be born immortal, birthed by scientists and rich patrons.

• Definitely--It would also be expensive. New technologies almost always are. Maybe over time the price would drop, but think of the supply vs. demand equation, and we are talking .0001% of people on Earth who could afford it. A middle class salary isn't going to cut it. Just think how things work in catastrophes, and you have your answer about who would live for a time, and who would live forever.

• It would redefine everything. There would be those with everything that would risk other people for their own gain. Indefinitely. Those people would become a separate species, only bound by their everlasting nature. They would share something in common, however--birthed into great wealth, they would be the children of money. They would be the immortal Princes and Princesses of industry, bred for the nobility of money.

Nations rise and fall, and power changes hands, as one leader dies, and another, less capable, or less ambitious leader fails. If that first leader lives forever, then will power every change hands again? So I wonder, not whether someone should "cure" aging (because if that is at all possible, it will happen), but rather, when scientists cure aging, can we trust the Children Who Live Forever?

Toddler Wisdom

Harmony (my two year old): "I love everybody!"
Justin (my four year old): "I love spoons!"
Harmony: "I love spoons, too!"
Me: "You love spoons?"
Harmony: "We love spoons today!"

How to Dissolve a Brain

My mind is pretty melty at the moment.

I mean, I spend every waking moment in the company of children, and by "children" I mean cute yet stupid little monkeys. Here are a few examples from Justin (4.5 years old) and Harmony (almost 2):

Justin: "Harmony, stop sticking your shoe in your butt."

Harmony: "Here's booger." (wipes it in my hand)

Justin: (while in the hot tub) "Dada, when I stick my penis in the bubbles it feels funny. Try it!"

Harmony: (fully nude except for sandals) "Ready to go!"

Everything I thought about in college is gone. Whenever I repeat "Eat at the table" or "Come here" or "Keep your hands to yourself" or "Look with your eyes, not with your hands" over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, I can feel my brain leaking out the edges: my skull is a glazed donut, and the filling is squishing through the cracks.

I keep thinking that when I talk with other adults that they can see my brain oozing out. I feel like rationalizing it to them, "Sorry, don't mind me, apparently you don't need that particular organ to survive. Who knew all of that grey matter was a waste of space? I thought for sure I'd have psychokinesis or telepathy by now, but instead I can barely remember what I did two days ago. See ya, I'm going to disintegrate further!"

A dormant part of me wonders if there is some evolutionary reason for children being so annoying, as if the repetition has developed over millions of years to kill the parent, one brain cell and heart attack at a time. I mean, these things I've spawned are going to replace me, by any means necessary.

Hell, at least while they're liquefying my consciousness they're cute too.

Can I Come Out Now?

Since it's nearly June, and my nerves have kicked into full gear, I suppose it's time to write something. The stewpot has been simmering, and what were once ashes have rekindled into a roaring fire.

The little one is bigger, the big one is bigger, I've lost more hair. An almost two year old is hanging off her chair, with her sunglasses on and no pants, and she's saying over and over again, "Need flower, need flower, need flower," which I suppose is code for happiness in toddlerspeak.

I yell at her as she draws on the chair. She looks like she's about to cry, and as I turn my head, she draws on the chair again. I yell again, "Don't. Draw. On. The. Chair." She's got a pouting lower lip, and I'm the bad guy. I laugh at her. She points at me and says, "No!"

"You can't draw on the chair." I notice her paper is full of scribbles. "Do you need more paper?"

"Yes, please." I give her another sheet of paper, and everything is happy again. All it takes is a sheet of paper.

Puzzle Pieces

On a similar note to last post, I've always had a difficult time marrying my opposing interests in gaming and art.

(And by gaming I don't mean gambling. I'm not talking slot machines here.)

I enjoy all forms of games, including but not limited to, tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons and Storyteller, video games of all sorts, ranging back all the way to the 8 bit systems of my youth such as the NES, all the way to the games of today like Team Fortress 2 and Torchlight. I made a roleplaying game, I've tweaked even more rules than I can list, and I've made a couple card games.

I also have a Creative Arts degree, which means I've acted, made movies, written reams of bad fiction and poetry, studied music and art, what have you.

These two fields, though they have many things in common, like perspective and narrative, flow and feel, are almost impossible for me to combine in my everyday life. I'm not an artist in the sense that I don't paint, I don't draw (at least, very well), and I don't play an instrument. Likewise, I don't program computers. I'm in the middle ground of mediocrity, where I can see the specialists at both ends of the spectrum, and I'm floundering while trying to glue together disparate parts of a huge puzzle.

What do I do with my writing ability? How do I apply that to games? Or art? Or games and art? There has never been a clear path for what I want to do, and so many times I end up back where I began: with nothing.

I've been looking into things like game design, and I realize that these things are difficult. People don't do this because they are easy. I have a lot of hard work ahead of me, if anything in my head is going to come to fruition, and that is a sobering thought. It makes me want to give up, which is the worst possible place to be.

Of course, even my son knows that Elmo says you should always keep trying. Elmo is a pretty smart...er...guy?