Lego Voltron!

I'm impressed.

Lego Voltron on Flickr

Work in Progress

Now, if only I had the time, energy and LEGOS to pull something like this off...

Monsters In A Bed

After church and lunch today, we pawned the kids off on the MIL, and then me and the Beloved Wife went to see a movie (the new Harry Potter).

Well, after the movie was over (~6:45) we grabbed some dinner for ourselves, the boys and the MIL and went back to her house to eat.  After some conversation and what not we finally left about 8:30 or so.

Not a problem, sure we like having the boys in bed by then, but it's summer, and being up late every now and then won't harm them.

But that's not the amusing part. 

On the way home, the youngest, calls out, "Mommy, are there monsters in my bed?"

Of course, the Beloved Wife answers no, and I'm kind of smiling.

Then the youngest asks, "Mommy, are there monsters in my window?"

Again, with the negative response, and I'm still amused by how adorable the kid is.

A few minutes later, we get another question, "Mommy, are there monsters in my closet?"

Again, the Beloved Wife answers no, and I'm both trying to not laugh and wonder where he'll ask about monsters next.

Which apparently meant that the eldest son felt the need to step in with his words of wisdom.

"There are no monsters," he says, and I'm amused by it.

"Monsters are fake," he says a few moments later, and I almost point out that the younger munchkin probably doesn't understand what "fake" is.

"Monster's aren't real," he says before I get the chance to point out the fake bit, so I continue driving in silence.

"There are no monsters to scare you," is what appears next. I must admit to frowning, but I can't really see how this could be a bad statement, and above that I'm still amused.

Then it gets even better.

"There are no monsters to get you."

I didn't  get a chance to respond before the elder is speaking again.

"There are no monsters to eat you."

My mouth opens to say something, but I'm still not fast enough.

"There are no monsters-"

Alas, what he was going to say is lost to the world, as I finally got my brain wrapped around what was happening, and I blurted out, "Little Man, stop trying to reassure your little brother!"

Silence reigned in the truck for about a quarter mile.

For a moment, I was hoping that the youngster hadn't picked up on things.

For a moment, I actually had that hope.

Then from the back seat, came my youngest son's voice, "Mommy? Are there monsters to eat me?"

Liberating Cookies

I bake.

It's just one of those things that I do. I find it comforting.

Not all that manly I know, but it appeals to the engineer/geek in me. I mean it involves the mixing and blending of various compounds, and applying heat in order to create something useful.

It's fun.

But anyways, tonight, I baked cookies. Chocolate chip ones. They're gooey, and tasty.

And as usual when baking, it brings out the INTERESTING in my family.

There I was in the kitchen, and the smell was fairly strong as I'd checked on them just a minute or so before.

Then I looked into the living room, and saw my eldest son standing next to my Beloved Wife.

He looks at her, and says, "There was a tasty smell coming into my room."

I could tell that the Beloved Wife was trying her best not to laugh. "I know," she said to him, and then sent him to bed with dire warnings that he'd not receive any tomorrow if he didn't get himself to bed.

So, I'd finished the baking, and cooled the cookies enough to stash them into an air-tight container for storage over-night. You always want air-tight containers, as air is the hardening agent of the baked-goods world.

But I digress. After stashing the cookies, the Beloved Wife and I each ate one and a half of them. I was good, and went off to play on the internet.

Then the Beloved Wife walked into the bedroom (where my PC is) with a cookie in hand.

She glanced at me, and smiled, and said, "I had to liberate it."

"Why?"

"Because it was trapped. I couldn't handle the screams."

"Ah," I said, shaking my head slightly.

"What?" came her reply. "I'm a compassionate person. I had to stop the screams."

This received the raised eyebrow from me. "If you're a compassionate person, why did you decide to mash it into itty-bitty pieces with your teeth?"

Without missing a beat, came her reply: "It's stopped screaming."

I laughed. After all, what can one say to that?

Not The Jedi Way

My youngest son has a new phrase that he's taken to saying, which I've given away via the title of this post.

Yes, the little play-actor walks about the house, and whenever something doesn't fit 100% into his plan, then it's "not the Jedi way."

He used it against his elder brother when said brother would not give up the toy he wanted to play with.

He used it against me when I made him eat his vegetables.

He even used it against the cat when she was laying on his Thomas couch.

Of course, the usage which I personally found the most humorous, was when he used it against my Beloved Wife. She of course, was not amused at the situation.

What had happened was that it was her morning to sleep in (we trade off mornings on getting up with our little Morning People). As it was a weekend, that meant she was actually able to sleep until 8:30 or thereabouts.

But all too soon--for the wife at least--it was time for her to get up and out of the bed, as we had things to do that day.

So of course, being the loving, and perfect husband that I am, I sicked the kids on her.

There I was, standing in the doorway--well out of arm's reach--as our children bounced on the bed, attempting to rouse my beautiful bride.

She of course, wanted nothing to do with this. And there, amidst the pleas and cajoling, and the "But Mom, it's time to get up!" was my youngest son, who was happily shaking his mom's shoulder.

The he pauses, and straightens up slightly, and declares in a loud voice, "Mommy, time to get up."

To which my wife replies something along the lines of, "not just yet."

So my son, then frowns, and says his line: "But Mommy, that's not the Jedi way."

As I said, I was amused.

As I said, my wife was less than. At least right at that particular moment.

Regardless, I did find a new toy online: The Hero Factory. It's been around for a while, I'm sure, but it's new to me, and I had to play with it.

The thing that amused me the most is the Title it gave the comic after I finished generating my "Hero." Apparently, I'm "The Talented FOUR EYED JEDI" -- one must love it.

Monday Rambling for 08/03/2009

I find myself in an odd sort of mood.  First, I’ve changed the “Description” for this blog. 

The reason is because over time, my focus has changed. While I’ve still pushed out a lot of geek-related stuff, more and more often, I find myself writing about my Beloved Wife and the munchkins.

As such, I figured I might as well formalize the concept into my blog’s description.  Additionally, by accepting that this has a focus on my family, I’m able to write more, as I’ll often find myself with content which doesn’t fit into any of my three blogs.

Fundamentally, I’m basically becoming a “Daddy Blogger.”

Oh well, enough meta-talking.

After all, I have a story of my adorable children.

I took the Beloved Wife and my two geeks to a restaurant on Saturday. Not that big of a surprise, but it’s one that I had visited, while my wife and kids had never been. Since I loved their Sloppy Fries (home-made French fries covered in gravy and cheese), I decided that it would be a good thing to have some more.

So, there we are, sitting in this restaurant, and my wife looks about, before turning to me and informing me that ours were the only children in the entire place.

I saw no problem—after all, they HAD a kid’s menu, so it’s reasonable to assume that children are welcome.

Right?

Well that was my stance—a stance my wife has since corrected by clarifying that the kid’s menu needs at least 4 items, or provide a toy or crayons in order to be “kid appropriate.”

But I digress.

The important thing, for me at least, was that my youngest was doing what most nearly-three-year olds do and that was singing his favorite songs.

Well, because it had become so common over the past few weeks, I had not even noticed that the song he was “singing” lacked words.  After all, John Williams’ songs are instrumental.

And yes, he was humming a John Williams’ song.

Which of course meant that all the adults that surrounded us were watching us.

I thoroughly enjoyed it.

My poor beleaguered wife though—she blamed me.  Her words something along the lines of, how any child but mine would be singing a toddler song, but mine had to hum John Williams.

Of course I pointed out that it could be worse.

He could be singing something from The Wiggles.

Or the TeleTubbies.

Or that evil purple dinosaur.

But hey, at least I get my daily dose of John Williams…