“The children are nestled, all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums dance in their heads”
– Warning label on Children’s Benadryl
It’s Saturday morning. The children are no longer nestled, no longer snug, and now have visions of Turkey Bacon dancing in their heads… and hearts.
The kitten is eating scrambled egg chunks that found their way to the floor. This may seem like a waste, mostly because it is. It’s an accident involving an excited fork in the hands of an even more excited 3 year old. What can I say? I know how to heat up embryos.
Man, that’s gross. Can you believe that we eat eggs? I mean… eggs.
Anyway, we’re listening to NPR’s “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me”. The board operator is making strange timing mistakes, as if someone else’s hands are running the controls. In my mind, it looks like that one sketch they do where a person stands behind you and puts their arms out around your front so it kind of looks like they’re your hands. This leads to hillarious results as the person does something like bake a cake or run a radio station. I keep reminding myself that no one else really cares about the things I’m particular about. I wonder if it’s like when a car mechanic rents a vehicle and drives it while realizing that it needs a front-end alignment, new plugs — things that most of us don’t really notice unless it’s not running.
Lexi is begging for food, being the bottomless pit that she is. You would think that we don’t feed her. Believe me, we do. Bacon, eggs, toast and glorious milk. It smells like a Bob Evans in here. Thankfully, no one has called me “hon” yet, though the day is young.
Malachi is watching a show called “Roary the Race Car” (TM). He likes it, mostly because it combines his love for racing, good story lines and personified vehicles. As I write this, I am having a parental revelation. Every show he likes involves a talking car/train/front loader. Could this lead to awkward social interactions in the future, where he ends up trying to talk to cars in the mall parking lot? But I am relieved as I remember how much I liked Knight Rider when I was a kid, a show which featured a talking car with at least a Bachelor’s degree. Maybe KITT just looked smarter when juxtaposed with David Hasselhoff, but that thing was smart. One might attribute this perception to the British accent. But that’s not what we’re talking about here, thank goodness. We’re doing a brief survey of talking vehicles, which my son is into as much as or more than I was when I was his age. I turned out fine*. He will probably turn out even better.
Zach is with Emily. Emily is with her sister (and female family types) at a Baby Shower. This leaves me at home with two out of three little Davidsons, which by comparison to the typical three feels like a vacation. Two kids seem overwhelming until you have three. I love being a dad and Emily loves being a mom. We like to remind each other that though we are outnumbered, we are still able to outsmart them, at least for the next few months. Ah… synergy can be a destructive power. We love it.
In closing : :
Happy Saturday. Thanks for reading.
* I am aware of the fraudulence of this statement.