My son insists the dog is covered in a tiny cold birds.
Billy Connolly tells a joke about the Irish in one of his stand-up routines that they are kindly liars. It's not meant as as unkind at all. He expresses it by saying if you're walking somewhere, meet someone and ask them how far it is to wherever you're going, that they'll tell you it's half the actual distance so as to make you feel better about the whole thing. That's sort of how the in-laws are. Perfectly paralleling Connolly's point by them calling me the other afternoon to tell me they were at a place thirty minutes away from my house so would arrive at my house in ten minutes. It's not really a negative thing if you factor in the Connolly Formula. It's to be nice. But my kids haven't quite figured out the calculation yet so heard them say, "we'll be there in ten minutes!" and then get over-excited and dismayed when thirty minutes later they still hadn't arrived.
Both kids stayed with them overnight this past week with apparent success. I asked how they slept and whether my son had any accidents. In reply I was told they went to bed easily and slept through the night until 7am without a hitch, and that my son wonderfully had no accidents. But when you factor in the Connolly Formula it doesn't really mean that at all. Especially as their bedtime is at 7pm and when we called at 8.45pm to check on how it was all going they were still awake. Add when I took the kids home my son had clearly had at least one accident - possibly two - because two pairs of his underpants were damp and had that tell-tale smell of urine. So either the in-laws were being overly-nice and didn't want to relay the actual information for fear of something - or they're telling the truth entirely and one of them urinated on my son's underwear.
Anyhoo - we went to a rather swanky restaurant the other night. The sort where a lot of the stuff on the menu has a name that might also be a European car. Here's the menu - although the online version doesn't name each item the full wanky way it did on the paper menu. Anyhoo - we sat there and ate for two hours. It was that sort of retaurant where they bring you lots of stuff you didn't order between courses (sorbet refreshers, hot towels to freshen up, root bear float in a shot-glass and pop-rock chocolates, etc). Not to mention giving out gifts just because we showed up. The food was so good I thought about letting the chef in on the secret of my amazing Herpes Gravy (the one made with ranch dressing). That would go over quite well I think. And if you think that isn't the sort of name a fine chef would want associated with his menu then consider that my wife and I both agreed that - based upon the curlyness of her arugula in her salad course - that arugula are basically the pubes of the vegetable world. Amusingly my wife was trying to let her friends know what she'd eaten there but the predictive text on her Kindle kept suggesting different names for the meals that sounded more like they were from a Bourdain novel than a Bourdain menu. So the Bison Titaki came back with the delightful, "Bison Fatality."
Yesterday afternoon pretty much involved the usual. As in my daughter has some odd readjustment mood problem when she comes home from the in-laws. She gets snotty and fights around bedtime in a way that she rarely does. I can tell it's going to happen well before the fact too by the way that she's a little bit clingy and makes comments about how I'm her favorite/the best. I know I sort of have to manage her behavior because when she will be told she can't have or do something she tends to react poorly after coming home. Frustratingly she really wants to see her mother a lot - but can't process the mental dichotomy of being really happy when she gets home from work and frustrated herself that she had to wait for it.
After that I showed my daughter the opening ceremony from the 2008 Beijing Olympics. Partly because she spent some time in teh back yard riding her bike toward the pool and then diving in. After I explained the triathlon and mentioned the Olympics it all sort of spilled from there. After the opening ceremony - where she sat opened mouthed in awe - I showed her some general highlights of athletics. She then declared she would be entering the London Olympics in the monkey-bars, dancing and bicycle riding competitions. I tried to dampen those expectations somewhat - especially after my daughter wanted to know why all the people in the Olympics were adults. So instead I explained there is an age limit but there are kid competitions just like the ones in it. I showed her this video series of kids practicing gymnastics stuff for a club in Toronto.She absolutely LOVED it. She also kept announcing that she already practices the stuff in her back yard. As in she is already an expert on the high beam because she can balance on the fallen-down telephone pole I used as a buffer on the driveway. She was quite gung-ho about the whole thing and has insisted that even if they won't let her compete in London she will definitely be in the one after that.
But mostly yesterday we wombled about in the back yard - picking berries, splashing in the little pool, chasing butterflies and sucking Popsicles. The dog - at least listening now to me when I warn him off the fresh-green walnuts turds dropping from the tree - has taken to running about like a lunatic in the woods. He inevitably returns absolutely covered in burs. My son really is enjoying his word-game silliness and was rolling about at the idea that I'd said the dog was covered in, "brrrrr" - as in the noise you make when you're cold. Then he laughed at the idea he was covered in birds. And was uncontrollably giddy at the idea he was covered in tiny cold birds. Sensing the golden opportunity to have my son laughing so hard he couldn't breath I asked, "wait - did you say the dog is covered in burps!" Which lead to two minutes of my kids fake-burping on the dog and laughing manically. The dog liked it a lot and seems to want the kids to burp on him more often. That can be arranged.
Now all I want today is for both kids to not be so overly-sensitive and combative. It's beginning to be almost too annoying to have them come back like this. So time to take them to the playground and hope they get out of their system whatever this bloody thing is.