So, do I get a merit badge? It can be shaped like a cookie, since I successfully completed my stint as a Girl Scout cookie seller.
OK, before you get the image of me as a giant creepy Girl Scout, let me explain. My daughter, Allie, is in Brownies, and this was her first year selling Girl Scout cookies. And part of the way they make sure every citizen has at least 35 Girl Scout cookie-related encounters each day is to set up cookie selling tables around town. Strategic footholds in the war on sweet-deprivation, if you will.
I became involved because (a) I am a concerned and caring dad and (b) I accidentally volunteered for something before I knew the details. My wife and I had this conversation:
HER: Allie’s got cookie sales tomorrow, but I can’t do it.
ME: I can do it.
HER: You’ll sit with her for two hours at Wal-Mart while she sells Girl Scout cookies?
ME: It’s too late to turn this around, isn’t it?
HER: Yes.
She further solidified my tour of duty by screaming down the hall, “ALLIE — DADDY’S SELLING COOKIES WITH YOU TOMORROW!!!”
When it came time to go, my wife debriefed me on a few things:
1. Allie REALLY liked doing the money box. However, the other girl may also want a turn, so gently remind Allie that equal time is part of the deal.
2. This is an unpaid gig. Want a cookie? Buy a cookie.
3. It would not be necessary to loudly announce that I was here with my daughter. Safe bet that people could figure that out, much like when they see men holding a purse or buying feminine hygiene products at the store. Rarely is someone going to say, “Gee, Bill, who knew?” And if they do, Bill should consider different, more intelligent friends.
When we got to the store, Allie decided that she would spend an hour working the cash box, while the other girl stood out front and steered potential customers our way. After an hour, they would switch. My job, clearly, was to stay out of the way.
So I opted for people watching. I quickly began to separate the people coming and going into demographics. Some of the more noticeable:
— Those who have already bought Girl Scout cookies, and understandably explain, “I am sorry, but there are roughly 400 Girl Scouts in my neighborhood, and I am fairly sure I have about two acres of Samoas at home right now.”
— Those who are health conscious. Often, they will make derogatory comments about their own weight. At one point, I chimed in that the chocolate chip cookies were sugar free. The look I received told me that my comment was not needed.
— Those who were sent by central casting after asking for someone to play the role of “scary biker dude.” By far, these were the most likely to buy cookies. The bigger and burlier, the more likely they were to melt when a 7-year-old served up the sales pitch.
— Those who pretend that they have no peripheral vision and no hearing and must sprint past the ruthless gauntlet of terrifying Brownies, because goodness knows a polite “No, thank you” would really kill you. On the upside, should the Girl Scouts ever come out with a “Recognizing Social Misfits with no Sense of Common Courtesy” Merit Badge, they will qualify immediately. Fortunately, this was a very small demographic.
But the most common overriding theme was folks enjoying the nostalgia of Girl Scout cookies. They are delicious, and there is something about Girl Scout cookie time. When I was a kid, I knew it was time to see just how well my dad thought he could hide the Thin Mints in the freezer. (As if hiding them INSIDE a roadkill raccoon would stop us. Puh-leeze.)
For what it’s worth, my personal favorite are the Tagalongs, which made my tableside purchase of the chocolate chip cookies even more difficult. I only had enough cash in my pocket for one box, and I was all set to wolf down a row of Tagalongs myself. Allie then told me she wanted the chocolate chip cookies, and batted those big doe eyes at me. It was like kryptonite. I am glad she did not ask for a pony at that point.
In all, it was a fairly painless exhibit. I enjoyed getting to spend time with my daughter, watching her really become her own person. She’ll always be my little girl, but even at 7 I can see her growing up, right before my eyes. It just make me so... so... that does it – I’m getting her a pony right now.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Five-o
If you are trying to wake up your little one for school, and he's having a bit of a rough time getting up, there is one can't-miss thing you can say to get him up and going: "Dude - you're 5 today!"
And with that, Parker came to life. "I'm FIIIIIIIIVE!!!!" Great way to start the day.
Parker turned 5 on Monday, or St. Parker's Day, as it is known in my house. Parker was originally going to be named Patrick. Then, around 4:30 p.m. on March 17, 2003, as he took his first breath of air, my wife made an executive decision. "HIS ... NAME ... IS ... PARKER ..."
The doctor told her that we didn't have to name him right then. "PARKER. PARKER." Even though she was strapped to an operating table, we were not about to argue with her.
Parker is a happy kid, mainly because he finds joy in the little things in life.
Pile of laundry? Oh, that's good for diving in.
Banana? Also a sword.
Need to get somewhere in a hurry? Just yell "SUPER SPEED" and you will certainly run faster.
Although I am not always successful, I do try and keep my perspective by watching my kids and remembering what keeps them happy.
I wrote in a column a few years ago that the happiest I've ever seen Parker was when I walked into the kitchen and saw him sitting there, a bottle of pancake syrup turned up. "Drink syrup" has become the new "Lighten up - it's only life" in our household. Some other things I have learned from Parker:
- Some people miss the forest for the trees. Parker would argue you're missing the smaller things ON the trees. Go anywhere near a tree with Parker. He will stop and say, "Look - lichens." He loves finding lichens. Most of us never notice lichens. But start looking at trees you walk pass. Lichens are everywhere. And while you may not particularly care as much about lichens as Parker, keep in mind to look at the little things. And then look a little closer. You may find what you didn't even know you're looking for.
- When you're tired, go to sleep. Don't fight it. Just go get some rest. Granted, I don't suggest crawling under the table at Chili's and catching some shuteye if you are an adult, but you get the gist. Don't push yourself.
- Try every food you can. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it again. But you never know when you'll hit a homerun. Parker's favorite food in the world: Pickled herring. Seriously.
He and his Grandpa sit down and eat jars of it (with bagel chips, of course). When he was about 2, we asked the pediatrician if it was OK for him to eat pickled herring and onions. He stared back at us for a moment and then said, "I can honestly say no parent has ever asked me that before."
- When you find a friend, accept that he changes. For Parker's case, that would be Jonathan, a friend who we have never seen, as he is invisible to everyone but Parker.
But in his time, Jonathan has been a giant moth, a tiny little boy and a giant boy. Jonathan seems to be the reason for many of Parker's missteps. Parker normally takes care of this by assuring us that he has put Jonathan in time-out.
- Find simple solutions in life. We were having breakfast at Waffle House the other morning, and he noticed the basket full of eggs in their fridge.
Parker suggested that, rather than keep the eggs there, they should simply get a chicken to keep out back. I told him this would be a problem, as they were close to a busy road. Parker quickly said, "Daddy, they'd have to put a gate up." Duh.
- The best medicine is some ice and a Band-Aid. Parker has had his share of spills, tumbles, bumps and knocks. And when he does, we (a) get a bag of ice that he holds on the spot for roughly a half a second and (b) put a Band-Aid on it, even if it's a bruise. Ready for action.
- Circle the wagons and protect your own. Parker and his sister both subscribe to the tenet of "You can't do that to my family. Only I can do that to my family." Parker and Allie may scrap once in a while. But that's family business. They've got each other's back.
- You'll have plenty of time to wear shoes when you're an adult. Try as I might to keep shoes on him, he just needs the liberty of bare feet.
Even if I put the shoes on him, chances are I will find them in the yard later on. Just go with it, and accept that his nasty little feet will look like mud for most of his childhood.
- Find a puddle. Stomp in it. It is clearly good for the soul.
So as we embark on the next year, barreling toward kindergarten, I will try and keep my Parker perspective, and learn from the little guy about how to stay happy and hope you will do the same thing.
In short, drink syrup.
And with that, Parker came to life. "I'm FIIIIIIIIVE!!!!" Great way to start the day.
Parker turned 5 on Monday, or St. Parker's Day, as it is known in my house. Parker was originally going to be named Patrick. Then, around 4:30 p.m. on March 17, 2003, as he took his first breath of air, my wife made an executive decision. "HIS ... NAME ... IS ... PARKER ..."
The doctor told her that we didn't have to name him right then. "PARKER. PARKER." Even though she was strapped to an operating table, we were not about to argue with her.
Parker is a happy kid, mainly because he finds joy in the little things in life.
Pile of laundry? Oh, that's good for diving in.
Banana? Also a sword.
Need to get somewhere in a hurry? Just yell "SUPER SPEED" and you will certainly run faster.
Although I am not always successful, I do try and keep my perspective by watching my kids and remembering what keeps them happy.
I wrote in a column a few years ago that the happiest I've ever seen Parker was when I walked into the kitchen and saw him sitting there, a bottle of pancake syrup turned up. "Drink syrup" has become the new "Lighten up - it's only life" in our household. Some other things I have learned from Parker:
- Some people miss the forest for the trees. Parker would argue you're missing the smaller things ON the trees. Go anywhere near a tree with Parker. He will stop and say, "Look - lichens." He loves finding lichens. Most of us never notice lichens. But start looking at trees you walk pass. Lichens are everywhere. And while you may not particularly care as much about lichens as Parker, keep in mind to look at the little things. And then look a little closer. You may find what you didn't even know you're looking for.
- When you're tired, go to sleep. Don't fight it. Just go get some rest. Granted, I don't suggest crawling under the table at Chili's and catching some shuteye if you are an adult, but you get the gist. Don't push yourself.
- Try every food you can. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it again. But you never know when you'll hit a homerun. Parker's favorite food in the world: Pickled herring. Seriously.
He and his Grandpa sit down and eat jars of it (with bagel chips, of course). When he was about 2, we asked the pediatrician if it was OK for him to eat pickled herring and onions. He stared back at us for a moment and then said, "I can honestly say no parent has ever asked me that before."
- When you find a friend, accept that he changes. For Parker's case, that would be Jonathan, a friend who we have never seen, as he is invisible to everyone but Parker.
But in his time, Jonathan has been a giant moth, a tiny little boy and a giant boy. Jonathan seems to be the reason for many of Parker's missteps. Parker normally takes care of this by assuring us that he has put Jonathan in time-out.
- Find simple solutions in life. We were having breakfast at Waffle House the other morning, and he noticed the basket full of eggs in their fridge.
Parker suggested that, rather than keep the eggs there, they should simply get a chicken to keep out back. I told him this would be a problem, as they were close to a busy road. Parker quickly said, "Daddy, they'd have to put a gate up." Duh.
- The best medicine is some ice and a Band-Aid. Parker has had his share of spills, tumbles, bumps and knocks. And when he does, we (a) get a bag of ice that he holds on the spot for roughly a half a second and (b) put a Band-Aid on it, even if it's a bruise. Ready for action.
- Circle the wagons and protect your own. Parker and his sister both subscribe to the tenet of "You can't do that to my family. Only I can do that to my family." Parker and Allie may scrap once in a while. But that's family business. They've got each other's back.
- You'll have plenty of time to wear shoes when you're an adult. Try as I might to keep shoes on him, he just needs the liberty of bare feet.
Even if I put the shoes on him, chances are I will find them in the yard later on. Just go with it, and accept that his nasty little feet will look like mud for most of his childhood.
- Find a puddle. Stomp in it. It is clearly good for the soul.
So as we embark on the next year, barreling toward kindergarten, I will try and keep my Parker perspective, and learn from the little guy about how to stay happy and hope you will do the same thing.
In short, drink syrup.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Fall into the Gap
My children learned one of the most important lessons a child will ever learn this weekend: Lob one snowball high in the air, and while the person follows the arch, peg ‘em with the second one.
My family was in the mountains for the weekend, and we were fortunate enough to have a snow that allowed for the family bonding experience of pelting one another with snowballs. We went to Windy Gap, a Young Life camp just north of Asheville. My wife went there often when she was in high school, and I was excited to get to experience it for myself.
Windy Gap is by far one of the most beautiful places I have seen, surrounded by mountains, its rolling green hills the perfect place to pick up your son and say, “Hey, Parker, ROLL!” and send him to the bottom in a Princess Bride-style tumble. (He liked it. His mother? Not as much.)
It started snowing around breakfast on Saturday morning. While there was not a big accumulation, it snowed most of the day and snowed enough for the requisite snow games. Among the weekend highlights:
– I sled down a hill much faster than Parker. We were both using Frisbees to slide down a big hill when I sent him on his way. I followed after him and found myself picking up speed and gaining on him. Quickly. As the gap got closer, I realized that sitting on a Frisbee, legs in the air, sliding sideways was not the best for steering. Parker saw me coming and fortunately bailed out in time not to become a bowling pin.
– Despite her protests, my wife has fun sledding down a hill on a Frisbee. With the racket she was making when she was being gently encouraged, you would have never thought it would be fun.
– My daughter is getting to the point where we embarrass her in public. She told my wife to stop dancing. I am fairly sure that some just-for-fun dancing pales in comparison to things I can do to embarrass her. Just so we are clear, I would never do something simply to embarrass my daughter. However, I will do something that embarrasses my daughter AND makes boys go away.
– Speaking of embarrassing, she seems to have NO problem getting on a stage with me as I – and four other dads – try to put a carrot in a milk jug. Did I mention that the carrot was dangling behind me, tied around my waist? Yes, the image in your head is as lovely as it sounds.
– I fear no ropes course. The Windy Gap ropes course is a series of wires about 30 feet in the air. You navigate each section while holding onto the cable above you. Toward the end of the course, I was perched on a tiny platform, looking down at the snow-covered rocks and the chilly creek below me. The ropes guide perched along with me told me that I needed to grab the zip line and just step off the platform. I had been fairly solid on the ropes course so far, but I had been in control of every step I took. There was no leap of faith. “Just step off?” “Just step off.” And so I stepped off. And, sure enough, I breezed through the trees into the awaiting cargo net. The ropes course concluded with a second leap of faith, where you have to jump to a trapeze bar that is stationed, by my estimate, 400 feet away. After successfully making the leap, I looked down at the tiny girl holding the other end of the rope. “So I just let go?” “Just let go.” Despite my concerns that someone not much bigger than my 7-year-old was in charge of me not plummeting to the ground, I let go, and she set me down with ease.
– Before you agree to letting your 4-year-old sleep on a top bunk, ask yourself, “Does my 4-year-old flip and spin and writhe in his sleep as if he were in a commercial clothes dryer? Does he often get up and walk around in the middle of the night?” If you answered yes to either of these, ask yourself a third question: “Why would I even CONSIDER offering him the top bunk?” This was one of those cases where I had to ask myself what I was thinking well before my wife could. Eventually, I convinced him to sleep on the bottom bunk, which was a good idea, considering his 3 a.m. quest to find me.
– I did not get to see the talent show on Saturday night (Parker crashed out at dinner, and it’s generally considered bad form to leave your sleeping kid in a mountain cabin and head on out). But the reviews are in, and word is “The Wild Girls” are the next big thing. Records execs, go ahead and cut me a check.
– My wife is constantly getting on to me about not paying attention when I am driving, which makes it all the more curious that, on a two-lane mountain road, she would shout, “LOOK AT THAT!! WHAT ARE THOSE THINGS!?!?!” The one time when I can’t look, and she’s encouraging it. On the ride back, we determined they were possibly alpacas.
All in all, it was a great family weekend, one that I hope we get to do again soon. I’ve got some killer dance moves to try out in front of my daughter.
My family was in the mountains for the weekend, and we were fortunate enough to have a snow that allowed for the family bonding experience of pelting one another with snowballs. We went to Windy Gap, a Young Life camp just north of Asheville. My wife went there often when she was in high school, and I was excited to get to experience it for myself.
Windy Gap is by far one of the most beautiful places I have seen, surrounded by mountains, its rolling green hills the perfect place to pick up your son and say, “Hey, Parker, ROLL!” and send him to the bottom in a Princess Bride-style tumble. (He liked it. His mother? Not as much.)
It started snowing around breakfast on Saturday morning. While there was not a big accumulation, it snowed most of the day and snowed enough for the requisite snow games. Among the weekend highlights:
– I sled down a hill much faster than Parker. We were both using Frisbees to slide down a big hill when I sent him on his way. I followed after him and found myself picking up speed and gaining on him. Quickly. As the gap got closer, I realized that sitting on a Frisbee, legs in the air, sliding sideways was not the best for steering. Parker saw me coming and fortunately bailed out in time not to become a bowling pin.
– Despite her protests, my wife has fun sledding down a hill on a Frisbee. With the racket she was making when she was being gently encouraged, you would have never thought it would be fun.
– My daughter is getting to the point where we embarrass her in public. She told my wife to stop dancing. I am fairly sure that some just-for-fun dancing pales in comparison to things I can do to embarrass her. Just so we are clear, I would never do something simply to embarrass my daughter. However, I will do something that embarrasses my daughter AND makes boys go away.
– Speaking of embarrassing, she seems to have NO problem getting on a stage with me as I – and four other dads – try to put a carrot in a milk jug. Did I mention that the carrot was dangling behind me, tied around my waist? Yes, the image in your head is as lovely as it sounds.
– I fear no ropes course. The Windy Gap ropes course is a series of wires about 30 feet in the air. You navigate each section while holding onto the cable above you. Toward the end of the course, I was perched on a tiny platform, looking down at the snow-covered rocks and the chilly creek below me. The ropes guide perched along with me told me that I needed to grab the zip line and just step off the platform. I had been fairly solid on the ropes course so far, but I had been in control of every step I took. There was no leap of faith. “Just step off?” “Just step off.” And so I stepped off. And, sure enough, I breezed through the trees into the awaiting cargo net. The ropes course concluded with a second leap of faith, where you have to jump to a trapeze bar that is stationed, by my estimate, 400 feet away. After successfully making the leap, I looked down at the tiny girl holding the other end of the rope. “So I just let go?” “Just let go.” Despite my concerns that someone not much bigger than my 7-year-old was in charge of me not plummeting to the ground, I let go, and she set me down with ease.
– Before you agree to letting your 4-year-old sleep on a top bunk, ask yourself, “Does my 4-year-old flip and spin and writhe in his sleep as if he were in a commercial clothes dryer? Does he often get up and walk around in the middle of the night?” If you answered yes to either of these, ask yourself a third question: “Why would I even CONSIDER offering him the top bunk?” This was one of those cases where I had to ask myself what I was thinking well before my wife could. Eventually, I convinced him to sleep on the bottom bunk, which was a good idea, considering his 3 a.m. quest to find me.
– I did not get to see the talent show on Saturday night (Parker crashed out at dinner, and it’s generally considered bad form to leave your sleeping kid in a mountain cabin and head on out). But the reviews are in, and word is “The Wild Girls” are the next big thing. Records execs, go ahead and cut me a check.
– My wife is constantly getting on to me about not paying attention when I am driving, which makes it all the more curious that, on a two-lane mountain road, she would shout, “LOOK AT THAT!! WHAT ARE THOSE THINGS!?!?!” The one time when I can’t look, and she’s encouraging it. On the ride back, we determined they were possibly alpacas.
All in all, it was a great family weekend, one that I hope we get to do again soon. I’ve got some killer dance moves to try out in front of my daughter.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
The magic house
My house is possessed. Inanimate objects are coming to life.
That is the only possible explanation for why the dog's leash was not in the basket on the shelf.
That is the only possible explanation for why my daughter's bike helmet and scooter were not RIGHT where she left it.
That is the only possible explanation for why my son's shoes were not RIGHT where he left them.
Clearly, these things are coming to life and walking off to new and exciting places.
Let's start with the leash. Murphy the Excitable Dachshund is quite the adventurous dog. He is so adventurous that, should two children playing in the backyard manage to dislodge a fence slat, he will squeeze through and go exploring on the polo field behind our house. He usually doesn't travel far, and often seeks people who will either scratch or feed him. (I can't say I blame him. Good gig if you can get it.)
So when Murphy got out on the field, I headed out there and told the kids to grab his leash. When he gets in the open field and the kids start sprinting toward him, he sees this as a fantastically fun game and will embrace his chance to play chase. A leash is somewhat needed unless I want to carry him back.
I had him under my arm and was heading back as Parker came sprinting toward me carrying a thin black leash. We don't own a thin black leash.
As he got closer, I saw that what Parker was carrying was a luggage strap, which my wife had sent out after channeling her inner-MacGyver.
I got back inside, gave a "well-played" nod to my wife, and asked what happened to Murphy's leash. Silent shrugs from the kids.
ME: "I put it up in the basket."
THEM:
ME: "Did you get it out?"
THEM: "Uhhhh."
ME: "Where did you put it?"
THEM: "We didn't do anything with it."
ME: "So it just climbed out and left?"
THEM: "Yes."
So about five minutes later, I took the kids out front to ride their scooters. Allie could not find her helmet. "I left it RIGHT HERE!!!" she said, emphatically pointing toward a spot in the garage. Her scooter had apparently fled, too. Perhaps the helmet rode off on the scooter. A few minutes later, a neighbor called to Allie. Apparently, the scooter and helmet had made it all the way to the neighbor's yard where, surprise, Allie had been just a few hours prior. I guess it was visiting for old time's sake.
I asked Allie how the scooter got over there. Shrug.
ME: "Allie, do you think you maybe left it over there?"
ALLIE: "No, I don't think so."
ME: "Well, do you think it rolled over there?"
ALLIE: "Maybe. Or maybe Parker did it."
Lastly, the shoes. Parker's shoes often come to life and walk around the house. Odd that they never seem to do it after he's asleep. And the weirdest thing is how they will not stay together as a pair. I will find one shoe on the stairs and the other in the azalea bed.
Parker and I will often have this conversation:
ME: "Where are your shoes?"
PARKER:
ME: "Did they walk off?"
PARKER: "I think so."
ME: "Do you know WHERE they walked off to?"
PARKER: "My closet?"
ME: "No, that's where they SHOULD be."
PARKER: "I think Allie took them."
ME: "Lemme check the azaleas."
Now, Occam's razor tells us that a 4-year-old and a 7-year-old failed to put items back in their place or removed items to fashion them into something to be played with. However, maybe simple isn't the only thing to consider. Hey, anyone who has seen a "Toy Story" or "Child's Play" movie has at least had that one, fleeting moment where you are pretty sure that a doll just moved its head, and the thought, however ridiculous and brief, crept into your craw that maybe the doll had been playing with other toys when you were not looking. Or was about to go on a murderous rampage.
So I will work with my kids to get them in the habit of putting things back in their places, and keeping them there once they are home. In the meantime, if you see Murphy, just hang on to him for a jiffy. I have to find the leash.
That is the only possible explanation for why the dog's leash was not in the basket on the shelf.
That is the only possible explanation for why my daughter's bike helmet and scooter were not RIGHT where she left it.
That is the only possible explanation for why my son's shoes were not RIGHT where he left them.
Clearly, these things are coming to life and walking off to new and exciting places.
Let's start with the leash. Murphy the Excitable Dachshund is quite the adventurous dog. He is so adventurous that, should two children playing in the backyard manage to dislodge a fence slat, he will squeeze through and go exploring on the polo field behind our house. He usually doesn't travel far, and often seeks people who will either scratch or feed him. (I can't say I blame him. Good gig if you can get it.)
So when Murphy got out on the field, I headed out there and told the kids to grab his leash. When he gets in the open field and the kids start sprinting toward him, he sees this as a fantastically fun game and will embrace his chance to play chase. A leash is somewhat needed unless I want to carry him back.
I had him under my arm and was heading back as Parker came sprinting toward me carrying a thin black leash. We don't own a thin black leash.
As he got closer, I saw that what Parker was carrying was a luggage strap, which my wife had sent out after channeling her inner-MacGyver.
I got back inside, gave a "well-played" nod to my wife, and asked what happened to Murphy's leash. Silent shrugs from the kids.
ME: "I put it up in the basket."
THEM:
ME: "Did you get it out?"
THEM: "Uhhhh."
ME: "Where did you put it?"
THEM: "We didn't do anything with it."
ME: "So it just climbed out and left?"
THEM: "Yes."
So about five minutes later, I took the kids out front to ride their scooters. Allie could not find her helmet. "I left it RIGHT HERE!!!" she said, emphatically pointing toward a spot in the garage. Her scooter had apparently fled, too. Perhaps the helmet rode off on the scooter. A few minutes later, a neighbor called to Allie. Apparently, the scooter and helmet had made it all the way to the neighbor's yard where, surprise, Allie had been just a few hours prior. I guess it was visiting for old time's sake.
I asked Allie how the scooter got over there. Shrug.
ME: "Allie, do you think you maybe left it over there?"
ALLIE: "No, I don't think so."
ME: "Well, do you think it rolled over there?"
ALLIE: "Maybe. Or maybe Parker did it."
Lastly, the shoes. Parker's shoes often come to life and walk around the house. Odd that they never seem to do it after he's asleep. And the weirdest thing is how they will not stay together as a pair. I will find one shoe on the stairs and the other in the azalea bed.
Parker and I will often have this conversation:
ME: "Where are your shoes?"
PARKER:
ME: "Did they walk off?"
PARKER: "I think so."
ME: "Do you know WHERE they walked off to?"
PARKER: "My closet?"
ME: "No, that's where they SHOULD be."
PARKER: "I think Allie took them."
ME: "Lemme check the azaleas."
Now, Occam's razor tells us that a 4-year-old and a 7-year-old failed to put items back in their place or removed items to fashion them into something to be played with. However, maybe simple isn't the only thing to consider. Hey, anyone who has seen a "Toy Story" or "Child's Play" movie has at least had that one, fleeting moment where you are pretty sure that a doll just moved its head, and the thought, however ridiculous and brief, crept into your craw that maybe the doll had been playing with other toys when you were not looking. Or was about to go on a murderous rampage.
So I will work with my kids to get them in the habit of putting things back in their places, and keeping them there once they are home. In the meantime, if you see Murphy, just hang on to him for a jiffy. I have to find the leash.
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