Gingerbread Houses + Homemade Beer = More Fun than a Burlap Bag of Feral Cats

Sorry, this is not a post about Jack OR Sam. They're fine. If not too fine. I swear these children are made of rocket fuel and "loud."

Ashley and I WENT TO THIS and had way too much fun. This was our second year. The first year, I was skeptical. Very skeptical. I mean, how much fun can building and decorating a gingerbread house really be? Turns out that it can be so much fun that you end up at the end of the night in the street swinging a golf club at your house, just for kicks. (That was last year. This year, the houses earned more respect.)

The gig is this: you bake (read: buy from Walgreens) your own gingerbread in any style you like, and you can even pre-construct it before you come (the beautiful hosts provide frosting mortar), but you have to decorate it at the party, all while sipping the finest home brew you've ever tasted. Some homes come with themes, some are just big and gawdy, and some are just a disaster. Litterally minutes before we left for the party, Ashley and I concocted the idea that we'd go with the then-still-developing "Tiger's Crash (and Burn)" story as our theme. I borrowed a few of Jack's toys and we were good to go. For the record, our house stayed true to the theme to the extent it had a truck crashed into a tree, a downed fire hydrant (complete with water spilling out) and a pair of "rescue" vehicles. We made it to the finals, but were beat out by the scale model of someone's childhood home. I am not kidding. Here is the proof. I was remiss that I couldn't conjure up a small blonde wielding an 7 iron, but there's always next year.

Prior to the party, another attendant at the party and I had concocted the idea for "gingerbread Lincoln logs." I ran out of time and didn't try to create them, but he did. And am I glad he did because it resulted in colossal failure. Gloriously hilarious colossal failure. So much so that he earned the "Mr. Hankey Christmas Pooh" award.

Discipline.

I bet you think I'm going to settle into my usual windbaggery and wax prophetic about how discipline is important in the Ryan household and how Jack and Sam receive a firm (but nonetheless fair) hand when at home, but I'm not. No. This post is to admit that blogging takes discipline, and while my erstwhile friends (*cough* Stacey *cough* Kelly *cough*) continue to post with surprising regularity and quality, I find that between being a father, practicing law and keeping a single-digit handicap, blogging has fallen even below "casual reading" on my "Gee, what should I do now?" list. And for that, my dear reader, I sincerely apologize.

To whet your appetite for the time being, here's a cute story about a precocious feline and her unwitting friend, Johnny Law:

Fall 2009 - Soccer

Jack started soccer this fall with Saint Francis Xavier Athletic Association.  He loves it.  

Winning, Losing, and Losing It When You Do

As Jack grows older, we've discovered that he's incredibly competitive by nature. Everything is a competition to him, and we've found that he's greatly motivated if you challenge him to a "duel" if you want him to undertake certain activities. For example, Ashley discovered that in order to get Jack to brush his teeth, she would "race" him to the bathroom. Otherwise, he'd procrastinate and find other things to do. The same applies for getting him to eat his dinner (often I challenge him to eat a number of pieces of food before I can eat the same amount and the previously rejected foods are quickly and voraciously consumed.)

Jack also (as you know) loves to play Wii. Herein lies the downside of this character trait: if he loses at Wii (which happens from time to time, despite my attempts and allowances otherwise) he goes bananas. Like Gwen Stefani "This [stuff] is B-A-N-A-N-A-S" crazy. Writhing on the floor, screaming at the top of his lungs, throwing things nutzoid. It worries me.

It worries me because I can remember my early days playing golf. My dad, knowing the bet was a safe one, would challenge me to golf, straight up (which is a farce unto itself - that's what handicaps were developed for). If I won, he'd buy me a car or a computer or whatever my dream item of the week was for that period. I'd try mightily, and when I hit one errant shot, I'd go, well, bananas. It was the one issue that once I finally dealt with it, opened the door to increased success in my golf game. I worry that Jack will be hampered by this same debilitating problem unless I can help him deal with it.

So the question for us now becomes, "How do we address this issue for good, and still allow Jack to harness his competitive energies?" Being competitive is healthy, but if you can't lose without totally "losing it," you're going to suffer. Just ask Jay Cutler. [Suck on that Jay!]

.. and people honestly told me that buying a cat would help train us to be parents. Yeah, THERE'S some solid advice.

An Update

I've been meaning to post a few things, and just frankly haven't had free time I wanted to devote to it. I guess I'll have to start multi-tasking more often (read: posting on the blog while watching my Wildcats get screwed out of wins by freak plays and brain-fart defense.... but I digress.)

Here are some recent highlights:

• Sam started walking. I intend to post some video (since pictures do little, if any, justice to this event.) He's still in that "drunk midget" stage, where he wobbles and only goes so far, but he's getting better every day. Scary thought.
• Jack played in his first ever organized sports event: a soccer game. He has practice every Tuesday afternoon, and I'm trying to act like an assistant coach.
• Sam's had a little cough that somehow triggers his gag reflex. It's most regretful after his morning and nighttime bottles, which have, at a success rate of about 90%, ended up all over me or Ashley over the past week. Otherwise, he's fine, so we're guessing it's allergy related. To compound matters, however, he's going through a "clingy" stage. A word of advice: a clingy child who barfs frequently isn't good for family morale.
• Jack discovered my old XBox and incorporated it, along with the Wii into his video game obsession. Thankfully, he's taken to NCAA Football (2005, but hey, it's football), and we like to run the triple option so he can make touchdowns. (Of course, we have to play All-Time USC versus the Southeastern Mississippi State Technical Junior College in order to make it easy enough for Jack at this point., but everyone starts somewhere.)
• We've been outside at every chance we get. Summer in AZ is really very much like winter everywhere it snows (and is 30 or below during the day). Going outside is unbearable, so during those months we stay inside, go to McDonald's, or the PV Mall playground with the rest of humanity. Thankfully, we're now free to roam the neighborhood with abandon, to have pizza dinners in the back yard, and otherwise venture beyond our climate-controlled 1500 square abode. Yay October!
• We're selling/donating/giving away all our baby stuff, and I'm REALLY STOKED about that fact. It's going to free up something like 96.8% of the usable storage in our house. I'm not joking.
• I'm counting the days until I get my office back. It became Sam's room when he was born and ever since, my ergonomic corner desk from Office Max has become a dust receptacle. Whenever the doors are open, we stare at each other, longingly, reminiscing of days when we used to sit and actually work together. *sigh* The plan is that next July, when Sam turns two, he'll bunk with big brother Jack, and Desk and I will be back in business.
• Jack's completely consumed by the baseball playoffs. Every day, I'm asked: "Daddy, is baseball on?" While I honestly cannot say I'm tracking the progress of each series, we've probably watched a fair portion of each game. If Jack doesn't play baseball at some level (high school or college), I'll be very surprised. He's consumed by the game, practices batting and running the bases constantly, and has a pretty good arm for a three year old. Spring promises to be exciting when he starts to play T-ball.

It's Gaelic for "Awesome."

Happy 250th birthday, Guinness.

Phun With Phonics

In an ongoing effort to ensure that Jack (and, ultimately, Sam) don't become the consumeristic nincompoops that MTV hopes to craft out of the youth of today [man I sound like a 900 year old man saying that, but it gives my parents some validation], we try to read to/with Jack (and Sam) on a regular basis. We have a magnetic alphabet that announceds the phonetics of various letters when you insert the letter into the machine that hangs from our refridgerator (it, too, is magnetic). Most of the time, the letters are simply hazards that I step on when it's dark in the kitchen, but we do, from time to time, use it. So Jack gets the general idea.

From time to time, I'll quiz Jack about letters and phonetics. The other night, I asked him what letter the word "milk" started with, and he began the analysis as such:

TJ: "Jack, what letter does milk start with?"

Jack: "Milk? Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, milk. ... mmmmmm, mmmmmm,mmmmm, mamma."

TJ: "Very good, "mamma" starts with that letter too. What letter is that?"

Jack: "Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, McDonalds."

Golden Arches for the Win!

The "Other" Blog

In an effort to separate my ramblings from the stories of the antcis of my two sons, I have revived the "other" blog. It's my attempt to be funny, and my repository for things that I run across in my daily travels across the internet landscape.

Yes, I bill by the hour. No, clients are not billed for my time when I'm writing on the blog. I am so sorry to have to break your preconceived notion that I'm billing every hour of every day. I'm not. I am human. Most of the time.

THE OTHER BLOG.

Proof that Someone Should Monitor Children's Shows More Closely

Jack + Camera = Eternal Hamnation

Jack was treated to a day at the Childrens' museum last Friday with his friends Tyler and "Little" Jack (yes, as Poopwatchgate trundled forward). Thankfully, blogger-mommy Julianne was kind enough to photograph the event and post some photos.

Enjoy the rest of the photos here.

Pottytraining Diaries/Poopwatchgate: The Conclusion

Yep, that is what he's pointing at. It all came out yesterday, in a double header on the porcelain throne.

We'd given up hope. We'd tried logic. It failed. We'd tried peer pressure. That failed, too. We'd resulted to bribery. From the last diapered turd on Thursday morning until the ultimate splashdown, we'd promised Jack the world: New toys from Target, ice cream bars, M&M's, and, the coup de gras, Wii Sports Resort (I was rooting hard for this reason, alone.)

The wait seemed endless. Day after day we pestered him: "Don't you feel like you have to go poop?" The answer always the same. "Nope" he'd remark, "I'm fine." And he'd continue with his day.

Then, Sunday, the fourth day of Poopwatchgate, came. We were concerned about a blow-out. We worried that he might try to hold it in indefinitely and then his subconscious would betray him during the night. We contemplated suppositories (Sam had endured this fate in months past) to force the issue.

Sunday afternoon, I had resolved to make dinner and was perusing a cookbook generating ideas. Ashley noticed Jack had disappeared and had closed himself in the guest bath. Grunting ensued. Ashley claims she heard jack get off the toilet, pause and say, "YESSSSSSSSS." She believes he had to look to verify it for himself that he'd achieved his goal: using the toilet for its intended purpose.

Jack exploded out of the bathroom announcing the feat. Celebration ensued. I was sent to Costo. I ended up making an unintended journey through the Crip-town Rectum Mall when I learned Costco didn't carry the "Wii Motion Plus" accessory. Darn you COSTCO! [shakes fist angrily at Costco sign.]

I returned from my Costco-WalMart-GameStop-Back-To-Costco-All-While-Avoiding-Getting-Shot-Mugged-Or-Disemboweled-By-Not-Looking-Anyone-In-The-Eyes errand with the Wii game, and an over-sized bag of M&Ms (they measure this bag in pounds, not ounces, kids) [And some socks, a new golf shirt, a couple bottles of wine, and an 18 pack of Newcastle Brown Ale... Damn you Costco! [shakes fist at Costco sign again]] I learned that while I had been spelunking through Costo's caverns of colossal consumerism, Jack had added to the excitement with another deposit. He commented later that it was "really, really big" and that it looked like a "poop snake." Indeed.

We played Wii late into the night. Jack was beaming with pride. With the lone exception of returning home after the infrequent camping/hunting trip, I've never been more excited about the act of using the toilet.

Success.

It finally happened. Oh there is so much to tell. But you'll have to wait as I intend on telling the story, prospectively in reverse. Understood? So watch for new "old" posts. (Hint: I'll be post-dating them.)

Pottytraining Diaries/Poop Watch - Week 30: The Poop Camel

Jack's last "BM" was Thursday morning. It's now Saturday. We're genuinely concerned. He's not complaining that his stomach hurts or that he's in any discomfort or pain, but we're not buying it. We've placed him on the toilet several times to "try," but no luck.

I dub thee the Poop Camel, Jackson.

15 (or so) Random Things About Me: Jack.

If you're at all familiar with Facebook, you've probably run across these posted lists that people are fond of, including the "25 Random Things About Me" personalized list. Since Jack has no Facebook page (yet), I thought my dear readers would enjoy a list for Jack, based on my observations.

(For authenticity purposes, I write this in first person, as if it was written by Jack.)

1. I prefer to eat all of the cheese and toppings off of pizza and leave the crust and dough part untouched.
2. I will pee-pee in the potty, and celebrate it with gusto, but refuse to go #2 in the potty, instead choosing to store it up for the instant after I am put in my diaper for the night. I do this inentionally, and with full knowledge that I can control my bowels and could use the toilet if I wanted to, but the look on Dad's face when I do this, night after night, is just priceless.
3. My favorite movie is Cars, but I've never seen more than the first 10 minutes.
4. I have seen every Dora the Explorer and Oswald episode ever created. Fred Savage (the voice of Oswald) rules.
5. I have several pairs of shoes, thanks to my father, but prefer to wear my Crocs with socks.
6. I find screaming to be my preferred mode of communication, despite the ongoing pleading of my parents that I use a so-called "inside" vocal pattern.

7. I love coffee, usually with heavy milk and a splash of creamer.

8. I can control my bowels, for days on end, when I deem necessary.

9. I "bring the hot fire" when I play boxing against my father on the Wii.

10. I dance better than Michael Jackson. At least that's what I'm told. I have no idea who Michael Jackson is.

11. I can identify Tiger Woods, Connor Jackson (Diamondbacks), and Steven Drew when I see them on TV.

12. I love to wrestle my little brother, Sam, even though he has no idea what I'm doing to him.

13. My cousin Ethan and I take incredible magical trips to far away places and do things that make no sense whatsoever, such as install potties at the Eiffel tower. Or at Steven Drew's house. I tell each of these stories to my parents.

14. I read three books every night.

15. I can hit a golf ball 50 yards with my driver.

16. I prefer being naked, when possible.

Pottytraining Diaries - Week 30: Luck Runs Out

So Jack's diapers ran out this morning. We tossed the last of them in the garbage, full of its putrid load of human waste. I cheered quietly inside. I would have shot off fireworks inside my brain, but I was afraid of burning off the last of the brain cells to which I frantically cling these days.

Now we wait. And hope. And prepare ourselves for the inevitable midnight sheet cleanings...

Jack is upbeat about it. That makes one of us.

Pottytraining Diaries - Week 29: Scarce Resources

Jack's realized that the fuse is burning out quickly and he has therefore gone into conservation mode. Instead of asking for a mid-day diaper to poop in, he saves up until the morning after he sleeps in one, and then depositing the "remains of the day*" in it. That way, he only burns one diaper per day (since he must sleep in one).

* Sincere apologies to Kazuo Ishiguro and James Ivory.

Sam Takes a Bath

If you knew nothing about us, and all you saw was this photo, you would most assuredly conclude that we're hillbillies. Frankly, sometimes it's just easier to dunk the kid in the sink than draw a full bath. He doesn't seem to mind one bit.

Some things I learned today.

Jack taught me the following things today:

1. The lyrics are not "He's got the whole world in His hands," but instead "He's got the whole world in his pants."

2. I didn't really fly all the way to Scotland to play golf in '07, I just drove to Scottsdale.

3. Superman is the only person who plays in Scotland because he can fly there whenever he wants.

4. Jack can hit his little USA Kids Golf driver 50 yards... with no formal lessons to date.

5. Cousin Ethan plays on a golf course in Tucson where they use only sticks and rocks.

Potty-training update: If potty-training had an economic equivalent, we're in stagflation: Potty-training progress is stagnated and my frustration with the issue is inflating.*

Sam is great. He turned 1 in late July. He points at you and waves to say "hi" and "bye." Then he sees something he can eat, his eyes grow huge, and he points directly at it, grunt-yelling until you give it to him. He crawls faster than people in Tucson drive and eats more than his brother does most of the time. He claps, usually when people on the TV clap, including golf claps. He loves to toss (roll) a ball back and forth with you as you sit on the ground. He is the "OMG! the cutest baby ever!" according to any female under the age of 17 behind you in line at the supermarket or behind the counter at Old Navy. {sarcasm} Yeah, I know, LOL @ OMG! {/sarcasm}

Lastly, this is quite possibly the greatest invention of the modern era. "Darn, that's pricey!" you are likely saying. Let me tell you that after a couple of those puppies, you will not care what it cost. The first time I saw it at a party, my eyes grew large, I pointed at it and then grunt-yelled until they gave me one. It was delish.

* I spent 10 minutes trying to decide if you can use two colons in this manner. I decided for it, and will let my fellow law school compatriots comment furiously in the negative, after having diligently solicited their grammar guides. After reading newspapers for the last few years, I've decided grammar in America is officially dead.

Pottytraining Diaries - Week 28: The Ultimatum

So the gauntlet has been thrown down: Jack is operating on a dwindling number of diapers. The pediatrician has asked (required) that he be using the toilet for all activities in the near future. So the fastest way to that goal is to remove all obstacles: no more diapers after the current supply runs out.

"Hey Daddy, Lets Play Some Wii!"

It started all so innocently.

"Daddy, lets play boxing. I like boxing."

I obliged. Traditionally, Jack simply flails his arms at the TV, hoping to land a punch here and there, but always enjoying the experience. Traditionally, I lay him flat on his back (digitally speaking) every time with a barrage of well placed attacks.

But this time seemed different. And quickly, the tone changed.

"Daddy, I'm going to bring the hot fire on you."

"Well," I thought, "this is new."

He brought the hot fire. He waited patiently, and took swings when I was open. He protected his head and dodged jabs. He knocked me down. Then, he knocked me out. It took him three tries, but he did indeed take me down.

It is so on now.

Pottytraining Diaries - Week 24

Just a short update: He's now insisting that he be closed in the bathroom by himself while he goes in the diaper. While on vacation, I found him in the bathroom, perusing golf magazines, using the "diaper." I had to smile.

Follow Me On Twitter

If you want. Or don't. You're small potatoes considering that John Daly follows me. Yeah, THAT John Daly.

http://twitter.com/tjryanesq

Pottytraining Diaries - Week 22

We're not advancing one inch. He holds it all day, asks for a diaper, throws nuclear fits if they are refused, and even repels offers of increasingly expensive rewards. I'm ready to buy the kid a Mercedes if he'll just abandon his diaper in favor of the porcelain. It's become ridiculous, but in the back of my mind I keep thinking of all the repetitive advice I've received: He'll do it when he's ready. (By the way, that advice never goes over well with a Type-A people like Ashely and me.)

He goes #1 with ease and on his own volition. So we continue to wait, hoping that repeated encouragement and prodding will finally break through the concrete and steel barrier that stands between Jack and his graduation into society as a proper defecating member. I never thought that the longest running battle I'd have with my son would be the use of the toilet.

My Kids Will Be Eating This Soon.

The Spanky Cristo.

Believe it.

Blogging Is Easy When Someone Else Does It For You.

Click here for a picture of Jack.

(Yes, this is the pinnacle of lazy.)

Since Crying and a Digital Thermometer Are Just Too Much Work

http://www.engadget.com/2009/06/18/babyglow-temperature-sensing-clothing-because-youre-dumber-tha/

Today, I'm Proud to be Irish.

Found, Part Deux.

I always understood and accepted (mostly based on jokes told by New York residents and Saturday Night Live skits) that New Jersey's environment isn't really taken care of by its residents.

Without such intention, this blog pretty much proves it. But before you dismiss it, scroll through a few pages. The photography is pretty good, and the scenes the author captures are worth your time.

We Now Speak "Samhili," Too.

We speak fluent Jackanese. We now speak Samhili, too.

As a good little baby should, Sam has been making repetitive sounds for a month or so. But only this last week did he begin to associate them. Much to Ashley's delight, Sam did not follow Jack's lead and instead said "Ma-Ma" first (as opposed to "Da-Da"). Crawling in her direction, he'll babble on, "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma..."

Further (and quite unsurprisingly, considering the child's voracious appetite) his next word was associated with his main form of sustenance: Ba-Ba for "bottle."

Hopefully, "Da-Da" will be listed as one of his first five words.

In Other News,

So we can't bribe, threaten or cajole Jack to use the toilet for #2, but oh sure, your robotic vacuum cleaner will. Life is just laughing its rear off at us right now.

Pottytraining Diaries - Week 16

Peeing in the toilet is now generally accepted convention in our house.  #2, however, is not.  In fact, it's willfully avoided.  Nowadays, Jack wears underwear during the day, and a "pull-up" diaper at night.  He likes to drink water and/or milk before bed and he routinely urinates in the night so we've retreated to the use of a pull-up during the bedtime stretches.  Interestingly enough, he does not release #2's in his underwear, and recently has been waiting for bedtime to relieve himself.  

This week, however, Jack had an unexpected surprise: the need to "go" long before bedtime.  Ashley tells me that while she was tending to some laundry, Jack disappeared into his room and closed the door (nothing to be surprised by, he will take "personal time" for 10-20 minutes at times, playing peacefully in his room as he desires.)  This time, however, he remained in the room for almost 35 minutes before Ashley, sensing something was askew, knocked and asked what he was doing.  She could hear the noises of his handheld computer game, so she cracked the door.  He announced, "I have poop."  

Ashley was shocked and disappointed, thinking that he had fumbled and let fly in his underwear.  But upon closer inspection, she discovered he was wearing a pull-up.  Apparently, Jack had retreated into his room, removed his shorts and underwear, climbed up onto the top of his dresser (where the pull-ups are kept), donned the training pants, dropped the Cleveland Browns off at the Super Bowl, and never missed a beat.  

The one bright spot from all of this is that he's learning how to dress/undress himself.  

Jack Knows His ABC's AND His Pop Culture Icons

[Scene:  Jack and TJ sitting on the couch watching baseball.]

Jack:  Do you know that lady with the big thing on her head that I saw at Aaron & Tina's today?

TJ: No.  Remember, I was working, not having fun with you today.  

Jack:  Well, her name was Lady GaGa.  [looking at TJ with all seriousness.]

TJ: [caught off guard by the name-drop of "Lady GaGa," begins to chuckle heartily.  Jack, at first confused, joins in and starts laughing at his unintentional joke.]

Jack:  HER NAME IS LADY GAGA [laughs]

TJ: [laughs]

Jack: HER! NAME! IS! LADY! GAGA! [falls down laughing]

Ashley: [to TJ, incredulously] You know who Lady GaGa is?

Sam is Crawling

We've been monitoring Sam's progress for a while, expecting that any day now, he'd figure out how to keep his knees up and under him and coordinate his arms and legs to start moving on his own.  Jack crawled at nine months, but we didn't expect Sam would match that date since he was eight weeks premature.  We were wrong.  When I arrived home today, I put Sam down on the bed while I changed.  He immediately took a four point stance and started scooting toward me.  Previously, he could achieve only the four point stance, rock back and forth, and then push himself back up into a seated position.  For a while, he was pushing himself backwards, but driving in reverse wasn't his goal, I imagine.  

While we celebrate this momentous occasion (pun intended), it's time to break out the electrical plug covers, and start moving all items below waist level to higher ground.  

Facebook is my Happy Place.

I'll admit it: I really dig Facebook. It probably has not generated one red cent of business for me, but it makes me feel good knowing that I can keep in touch with my close (and not so close, and some just people I barely know) friends.

In a rare but nonetheless free moment, I jumped on to see what people were up to and ran across a "note" written by a law school classmate and fellow Law Review slave, Sarah.  It's called "Mosaic of Me."  It is as follows:

---

Rules:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search (http://www.flickr.com/).

b. Using ONLY the first page, pick an image.

c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Mosaic Maker. Change rows to 3 and columns to 3 (http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php).

d. Save the image and post it on this note.

If you're tagged, pass it on. And tag the person who tagged you.

The Questions:

1. What is your first name?

2. What is your favorite food?

3. What is your favorite color?

4. Favorite drink?

5. Dream vacation?

6. Favorite hobby?

7. What you want to be when you grow up?

8. What do you love the most in life?

9. One word to describe you?

Here's what I came up with (and yes I did follow the instructions):

So for the rest of you out there who blog, I invite you to go through the excercise. Heck, it beats writing original content any day.

[Answers: 1) TJ, 2) Sushi, 3) Blue, 4) Bud Light Lime, 5) Fishing Quietly, 6) Golf, 7) Marine Biologist, 8) My kids, 9) Tired.]

A Sad Excuse for a Post.

Things have been a little hectic for this writer. I keep telling you people to encourage Ashley to write on this thing, but so far, she's been unpursuaded. Step it up a notch, please; I do have a day job, you know.

Since the last post:

• Sam cut one tooth, then another (both bottom front), and has started sleeping longer stretches in the night (6 to 8 hours at a time), inbetween the nights the teeth were coming in which were "not fun";


• I went to The Masters in Augusta, Ga. It was incredible; and,


• Jack has taken two swimming lessons and, for the first time, dunked his head under water and did "swimmy arms" by himself. To date, he's been deathly afraid of water and getting near it, although he does enjoy the 2' deep kiddie pool at the Club. He was very proud to tell me that he had gone underwater, and I was equally proud of him for it.

Our Little Existentialist Veterinarian

During a recent outing, Jack and I had the following conversation.  To preface it, you have to understand that with potty training in full swing, there's a lot of talk about pee-pee, poo-poo, and the various tools and mechanisms linked to those activities.  

The conversation began when Jack told me, not five minutes after leaving the house and not six minutes after I had asked him if he needed to use the facilities before we left the house, that he needed to relieve himself.  This conversation ensued:

TJ:  "Jack, can you hold it buddy?  We have about five more minutes left in our drive."

Jack: "Yes, Daddy.  I have a gate in my penis."

T:  "[chuckling] Oh really?  That's good.  Please put a lock on your gate until we get to the park."

J:  "Okay.  [pause]  Jesus put the gate in my penis."

T: "[now a little confused at how we arrived here] Is that so.  I'm glad he did that.  Please use what he gave you."

J: "Okay.  Jesus made my penis."

T:  "Well, sort of in a round about way, yes. But... [I had no idea where to go from there, so I just faded off.]"

J:  "God made Jesus."  [Ed. Note:  Romanians agree.]

T:  "Well, not exactly, but we'll cover that ground when you're a little older and we can discuss the Trinity."  

[a 90 second pause.]

J:  "Daddy, who made God?"

T:  "Uuuuhhhhhh..." 

I tried to explain that "some" believe that we (man) created God (the "opium of the people" and all that jazz) and that others like us believe that God just is and was.  A little deep for a three year old, but I did my best to put it in his terms.  Thankfully, he chose to change the subject shortly after my mini lecture:

J:  "Daddy, when Mommy and me went the mall a few weeks ago [it was more like two months ago] we saw doggies.  One of the doggies ate his own poop.  Then he prolly threw up 'cuz when doggies eat their own poop, they throw up."

Existentialism and veterinary advice all in one 10 minute drive!

The Wee One.

Everyone seems to enjoy video of the "wee" one.  

The Potty Training Diaries - Week 9

So it's been a few weeks since I've written about our struggles with pottytraining. Frankly, it's been sort of a "Battle of the Bulge-esq" "please-for-the-love-of-everything-that-is-good-and-holy-pee-pee-in-the-potty" slug-fest, with both sides deeply entrenched, while the icy hands of frustration clasped us all.

Then, as it did in the Ardennes, the bad weather lifted, and the "good guys" prevailed. Jack seemingly "decided" on his own that he was going to emulate his dad, lift the lid and pretend to make yellow snow. So far, we've gone about 4 days of this practice, and to the extent that he was able to achieve "new scooter" status on his Potty Chart. So there's been lots of scooter riding in the past couple of days.

In fact, yesterday (Thursday) I returned home to learn that he had been "dry" (i.e. no incidents in his diaper) all day and that he had used the toilet four times.

We're still working on #2. Much to his credit, he's tried, but he claims it just isn't working. (The line from the Austin Powers movie comes to mind, "WHO DOES NUMBER TWO WORK FOR!?!?!?!" "Yeah, you show that turd who's boss.")

Found.

There are times when my normally finely tuned, task-oriented brain just up and quits and forces me to do a little bit of unconstrained thinking. It means I start reading either a random Wikipedia entry (there's a "random entry" button on the left bar of the Wikipiedia page) or get updates from friends' blogs, and then jumping from those pages to other linked blogs, then to another, and another until my brain is ready to get back on track. A smart man once told me it's the "playful puppy" nature of our brains, and sometimes we just have to indulge it so that we can stay efficient and on task the rest of the time.

Today, I had a moment which required some play time with my brain puppy.

So I started here. Then went here (which seems like a cool app and one I may try someday). Then here (a very neat photography blog). Then here. The last was my favorite. A truly unique and well honed approach to topical blogging, but yet one that leaves the door wide open to a wide variety of topics for discussion. I think the easiest trap for bloggers to fall into is limitation of subject matter to such an extent that finding new and interesting topics to write about becomes near impossible.

[UPDATE: This is pretty funny. I found this doing a search for "baby in a bar" on Google Images, something I refer to quite often. The second photo posted is what I located and couldn't live without. I also love the "dead to me" section in the left column.]

Things I Had Hoped I Would Never Hear Myself Say.

As you know, we're in the process of potty training Jack.  Boys are notoriously harder than girls to train (yes, that's our excuse for having a three year old wearing diapers), and it has been a challenge with Jack.  Complicating matters, he's strong-willed, so on good advice, we've been letting things take their course, encouraging the issue with promises of treats and rewards for repeated use.  He's warming to the idea of the potty, er... toilet, and he has even been asking to wear his "big boy" underwear that we bought him for his birthday in January.  

Long story short, Jack was with me in the kitchen tonight, hanging out while I cleaned up bit, sitting on his favorite stool, in nothing but a tee shirt and his big boy undies.  I looked over, saw activity I didn't condone (and certainly did not want to foster over the long term) and said, in a firm, stern voice,

"Jack, stop playing with it.  It's not a toy."

Yes.  The "it" is what you think it is.  

Buddies

 

It's good having buddies nearby.  I never felt like I had good friends within walking distance growing up.  Jack is blessed to have one of his best friends, Charlie, footsteps from his front door (back door, really, but who's counting).  And Sam and Charlie's little brother, Wes, are only 10 weeks apart.  And Ashley and I really enjoy Charlie and Wes' parents.  They're loads of fun, easy to get along with, and don't frown when we pop a bottle of wine or a beer.  

[Yes, friends, that's the famous couch the boys are sitting on.  It will likely have to be incinerated once we're finished with it.  No amount of reupholstering will save it, I'm guessing.]

Little Conversations

I really love the little conversations I have with Jack.  He's 3 years and two months, but communicates adeptly and grasps concepts far beyond his years.

Jack's was sick all day.  He threw up at church this morning, and then again once he was home.  He tossed cookies after a few sips of blueberry/pomegranate juice.  Of course, he vomited on our couch so we've got a new blue stain to add to the hundred or so others that now dot our once delightfully tasteful couch.  

When Jack's sick to his stomach, he is very, very sedate.  But he also engages in conversation.  This is contrasted against when he's well and he simply barks commands and makes silly faces 24-7.  He obviously takes after his mother. 

For dinner, Jack wanted yogurt, but not just any yogurt: Strawberry Scooby-Doo Go-gurt.  [Go-gurt, for those who don't know, is a newer product; a way for yogurt retailers to reach the "overworked, on-the-go mom" market, while charging more money for less product.  It's yogurt in a plastic tube.  One end is a stamped and cut such that it easily rips open and becomes the end you eat out of.  You simply squeeze the yogurt up from the bottom and eat as you go.  Quite genius, really. The best thing since sliced bread, one writer believes.  I will admit that I have enjoyed a few from time to time, since you can eat them on the way to work without worry of dripping on your outfit.  They do make "adult" versions.]  

So Ashley searched, but came up empty.  So Jack settled for a regular strawberry-flavored yogurt, in the standard cylindrical container.  Sitting down to eat it, he exhaled deeply in disappointment. [sarcasm] Oh the injustice of this world. [/sarcasm]

Later, putting away the leftovers from Ashley and my dinner, I found one.  It had been partially eaten - more than half was left - and put back in the fridge for later use.  [This is not a blog for germophobes.  We hate to waste food while people in this world starve, so most of Jack's half-eaten food ends up in the fridge again.]  Regardless, having found what I believed to be the Holy Grail of Jack's cuisine crusade, I showed it to him.  He was now on the couch, lounging comfortably, having consumed all of two bites of his yogurt and a few slugs of chocolate milk.  The following conversation ensued:

TJ:  Jack, look what I found! [Proudly brandishing the Scooby-Do Go-gurt.]  You want it?

Jack:  [Eyes never leaving Wonder Pets,]  No thanks. 

TJ:  Why not?

Jack:  [Again, eyes fixed on Wonder Pets,]  It's old.  

TJ: What?

Jack:  It's too old to eat, Daddy.

TJ: [In classic parent-to-child patronizing tone,] Okay then, I'm going to throw it away.  And if you get hungry later and want Scooby-Do Go-gurt, you'll be sorry because you had the chance to eat it and you didn't.

Jack: [Turning to finally address me, and shrugging his shoulders,] Okay, throw it away.  I'll just get another box tomorrow. 

Sam Laughs, Falls Down: A Compilation

(With the help of Jack, a large foam dinosaur, and iMovie)

Zi6: Test Run. (Lesson learned)

High definition videos are huge.  Huge videos take forever to upload.  That little 10 second clip took 45 minutes to send to Blogger, and then another 30 some to "process" which means, "reduce quality."  So in other words, I spent one hour and 15 minutes in frustration so Blogger could take my beautiful 720p video and make it smaller.  A little counterproductive, don't you think?

Zi6: Test Run.

Sam hanging out on the bed.

Jack and Sam's Place: Now With Video.

I bought a Kodak Zi6 since our tape-based video camera doesn't hold a charge for more than about 2 minutes.  That's just a tad bit annoying when you want to take video of kids doing crazy things.  

The Zi6 is neat because it shoots in 720p "high def" at 30 and 60 frames per second.  It's not cinema quality, but it'll get the job done and that's what's important.  Plus, it was very inexpensive, and beat out higher priced competitors.  

I hope to finally have a reason to put iMovie to good use.  

Cutest Baby Picture Ever.

 

But we're biased. 

Sam is sitting up.

We're making progress!  Sam is now sitting up on his own.  Oddly enough, he still cannot fully roll over, so the order of things is a bit odd, but we're happy that he can entertain himself for short periods of time.  That's great news for the overworked parents.  Video to follow.

Much Ado About Chickens

What's the deal with chickens? Within the past days, I've become aware of two fellow "mommy bloggers" who have decided that the world is sufficiently lost (at least Alan Keyes thinks so*) and investing in baby chickens is sound advice in these trying times. I surmise that the investment is made in hopes that they (the adolescent ground-peckers) grow into egg-output vehicles, yeilding eggs for family use and consumption. When I first learned of one family's foray into urban chicken farming, I chuckled and resolved that clearly this family had too much free time on their hands. (The husband brews his own beer, but that's clearly a worthwhile and necessary enterprise, with which I take no issue and support wholeheartedly.) Shortly, more chicken-related posts followed, here and here.

But within days thereafter, I learned of another, venturing into this "fowl" territory: my overachieving-law-school-colleague/smartypants-turned-mommy-blogger. Now they had my full attention.

So I pose the question: Really? Chickens? What you buy prepackaged from Fry's or Safeway just aren't satisfactory? Even PETA has weighed in on this issue.

[* No, I do not endorse Alan Keyes. It was just a funny segue and something that popped into mind while writing that sentence. I guess I could have simply linked a graph of the Dow since the election, but that's a little too painful for many of you readers.]

[3/15/09 - I was told not to call myself a "mommy blogger."  Isn't that self evident?  I am the MOTHER OF ALL BLOGGERS.  Just kidding.]

It's My Party And I'll Blog If I Want To

Today's my birthday (zzzzzzzzzz 32 zzzzzzzzzzzz) and so in honor of this momentous occasion, here are some factoids:

Birthdays on Feb. 24:

Steve Jobs (of Apple fame)

Joseph Lieberman [sarcasm] I couldn’t be more proud to share this birthday with Joe. [/sarcasm]

Winslow Homer (American landscape, marine and genre painter. He was a battlefront correspondent for Harpers Weekly in the Civil War.)

Chester William Nimitz (A graduate of Annapolis and chief of staff to the commander of the submarine force of the Atlantic fleet in WWI. Commanded the Pacific Fleet in WWII.)

Unsung hero of the silver screen, Billy Zane. Starred in Memphis Belle, among other [sarcasm] blockbusters. [/sarcasm]

Franz Courtens, a Flemish painter who created the masterpiece, Golden Rain.

Edward James Olmos, better known as Admiral William “Bill” Adama, of Battlestar Galactica fame. [For you folks who watched Miami Vice, he was in that too.]

Sammy Kershaw, country music “star” and artist, whose son was a fraternity brother of mine at Baylor U.

Exciting Happenings on Feb. 24:

1803 Supreme Court 1st rules a law unconstitutional (Marbury v Madison) [Probably the most boring case ever, it is mandatory 1st year law school reading, but among the thousands which are never again cited (because it goes without saying that the judiciary has the power to overrule legislation on the basis of unconstitutionality). Nonetheless, its a case that the mere mention of which makes the loins of many a constitutional law professor tingle.]

1836 3,000 Mexicans attack 182 Texans at Alamo, lasts 13 days. (At the same time, Davey Crockett brings dead animal skin headwear into fashion.)

1857 1st perforated US postage stamps delivered to government.

1863 Arizona Territory created.

1868 House of Reps vote 126 to 47, to impeach President Andrew Johnson.

1917 German plan to get Mexican help in WW I exposed (Zimmerman telegram).

1965 Beatles begin filming "Help" in Bahamas.

1979 Highest price ever paid for a pig, $42,500, Stamford, Texas.

See? Much more important things happened today than just my birthday.

Theft is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

So lately, we've been juggling a few things around here, mostly trying (in vain) to potty train Jack (with very little success), trying to get Jack to bed before 9:30pm (aiming for 8:00, mind you) trying to figure out why Sam sleeps only 30 minutes at a time during the day and maybe 4-5 hour stretches at night (at best), and all the while dealing with the standard accouterment which accompanies living life (paying bills, for example). So sleep has been a luxury lately. Ashley regales me with stories of naps, as she gets them, and we giggle with glee as we discuss how we're going to catch up on sleep when we send these boys to college in 18 years. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I was idly scrolling through friends-of-friends blogs and ran across this little gem. The writer is somewhat of a local celebrity, to the extent that someone who appeared for a short stint on radio as the third party to a morning show can be considered a local celebrity. Nonetheless, It'd be cool to meet her, as she seems really hilarious and her blog is wildly creative. For that she earns my respect.

Back to the point: I read this post and almost fell out of my chair laughing. Pictures do indeed say a thousand words. So I'm stealing her post and putting it here since it sums our our lives right now.

Sam Writes His Own Blog Post

 qeje a  d  lxc kkd hn kmiu,l nmboijlojob //  m, mp io   h jj   n igo o8 nmi ,ig un v

[You can tell I've run dry of publishable content when I start letting the 6 month old write.  But as far as I can tell, only Kelly L. and Julianne M. read this so it's really only for us three to laugh about.]

This Is Why You're Fat.

This is why you're fat. (For the technologically impaired, put your mouse cursor over the last sentence and press down and release. You only need to press once. The "double-click" isn't required on the web, folks.)

Even thought it has nothing to do with Jack or Sam, it's worth the post. I guess if I had to draw some type of link between Sam and this, it'd be constipation.

Here's on receipe I'd actually try: The Romellete.

This Blog Isn't Just About Kids, People.

I realize, looking back over the last few posts, that not much has been said about my two little boys, the title sponsors of this rodeo.  If you come here to read nothing but cute stories about young children, you've come to the wrong place.  This is pretty much my pet project/ventilation system/stream of consciousness, so you'll just have to deal with it, and get your kiddie info as it comes.  For "inquiring minds," I offer the following:

Sam:  Tonight, while I ate my face-charring-spicy-bowl, Sam played contently with the paper bag that it arrived in.  (He was unharmed while I consumed molten lava.)  He seemed to really dig the paper bag, so we'll revisit that toy sometime soon.  I now recall that Jack at this age always loved "non-toy toys" and, if you recall, his first taped session of ongoing belly laughter was created with the assistance of an Old Navy shopping bag.  [Editors Note:  Despite this, my requests to return to Target ALL of the stuff we gained in baby showers and use that money to buy an Xbox 360 continue to go unheard.  Alas...]  He is still suffering from on and off constipation issues, but I've saved you from "Poop-watch 2009" because my posts would have been a stream of complaints about his fussiness, and you've all heard that before.  He's such a cute baby (yes, a picture would be nice) and, when he's not eating/crying/sleeping/fussing, he's a joy to be around and lights up the room with his smile.  To quantify it, he's awesome 2/5ths of the time.  Another 2/5ths of the time, I let him live.  The remaining 1/5th, he's sleeping.  

Jack:  Still not potty-trained.  Underwear is just another fun "dress up" item.  I'm sure he thinks, "Hey look, Lightning McQueen occupies space on my rear!"  To add to the complications of life, he's now slowly dropping his nap, which means that some days, he naps (and can still rock a 2 + hour nap, yielding a bedtime around 9:30 or 10:00 p.m.) and sometimes he doesn't (yielding a battle royal and, mostly, a 7:30 to 8:00 p.m. bedtime).  He's a stellar baseball player, though, and I assure you that he'll win a batting title when he's old enough for tee ball.  He's got two tee-ball tees, and one that even shoots balls out at him which he then smacks back at me.  His fielding is still rough, but we're working on it.  Also, he's starting to get the hang of chipping golf balls in the back yard (much to my delight) but likes to steal my golf balls and then hit them toward me or the house/windows (much to my chagrin).  Don't tell him, but pretty soon, he'll get a bike with training wheels.  That should be fun, since I love to bike, too, and hope to get him into an active lifestyle (since, you know, I am the poster boy for active lifestyle).  

Jack and I are all alone this weekend, as Ashley and Sam leave for a Beth Moore (I just threw up a little in my mouth) conference with her good friend Jamie from college.  We've got some things on the calendar, but it's going to be interesting.  Thankfully, when Ashley leaves, Jack knows that he has very little rope and I have no patience for destructive frivolity, so he's generally very well behaved.  So I've got that going for me this weekend.

Konnichiwa Jalapeno?

Tonight I bought takeout because I had a late meeting and Jack needs to eat "promptly" at 6:00 or he turns into a gremlin.  

I love Japanese and so I stopped for some spicy chicken teriyaki and a set of California rolls.  As I popped open the top on my chicken, the waft of freshly grilled chicken, bathed in the mysteriously scrumptious brown sauce caught my nose.  But there was something more.  Something sinister awaited me.  I took a bite.  My lips, tongue, gums, frontal lobe, a bevy of ferrule cats and a small church in Uzbekistan caught fire, the latter two simply by coincidence.

Sure, I did order "spicy" but usually that means the addition of a few sprinkles of the red chili powder the Japanese restaurants are fond of, providing a needed "flavor boost" but by no means a torch-like effect.  No, this was radically different: A spice assault even a kamikazi of a Japanese diner would have been astonished by.  

As I ate more (starvation had a key role in my self inflicted injury), I noticed small green bits.  They were too light to be pieces of scallions.  Then it dawned on me: the cook behind the counter was not of Asian descent, but most likely of Hispanic origin.  (Not an assumption, but an observation.)  The mysterious green chunks, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, were shredded bits of jalapeno, assaulting my mouth bite after bite.  

Do they even import or grow jalapenos in Japan?  Does this constitute false advertising?  Should it be called Juan's Shogun Express or Yoshi Gonzales'?  This must be why people don't go out to eat Mexican food in Iowa: it's made by Norwegians. 

I. Am. A. Cardinals. Fan.

I cannot express my feelings right now.  Expletives are about the only thing I'm left with now.  (I'll save you the stream of four-letter filth.)  [Deep breaths and pilates.]

I watched the game in detail.  Examined every play (HD-DVR provided it).  We matched the Steelers play-for-play.  We hit them in face.  We smashed them in the mouth.  (Darnell Dockett is my hero.)  We tipped passes, we stuffed runs, we sacked "Big Ben."  We ran the ball (better than usual) we threw the ball (as usual).  Fitz made the game winning play. We lost. 

What happened?  

My only answer: We met our match.  

9-and-7 doesn't define us.  The trips the the East coast were worthless, and useless.  Painful, but worthless.  Does the NFC suck? Hardly.  We fought until half-time.  A fluke play took us into half-time down 1o, but we had the lead with two and a half minutes left.  Why? Because we come from a terrible division?  No.  Because we belong here.  Because we have all the talent of New England with less than one tenth of the f***ing East-coast attitude.  We just want to play "beat your face in" football.  And I couldn't be happier about it.  

How many counted us out?  The worst team in the Playoffs?  We're in the f***ing Super Bowl.  Suck on it.  And we made those 30 second commercials worth the millions you spent on them  bankrupt America.  

I guess the last the word is:

Dear People of the United State of America with High Definition Television: You're welcome.  We made a game of that which you said was not to be.  We took a would-be blowout and made it a nail-biter.  We took a Steelers-Vikings snore-fest and made it the game of the century.  You can give us the respect we deserve now.  If you thought the Alzheimer's patient and the Z-Street Polk band at half time were was the highlight?  You were wrong.  We came to play.  We came to WIN.  And in the next five years, WE WILL.  

I've never been a football fan.  (My wife will attest to that fact.  If it was Sunday afternoon, I was watching golf on CBS.)  Two years ago, a good (nay, dear) friend took me to the Browns-Cardinals game.   I learned to hate Browns fans (they are IDIOTS).  He bought me a #7 jersey.  (Who? Oh, him.  Maybe someday he'll be worth the draft pick we spent/wasted on him.)  Ultimately, I humbled my University of Arizona pride and traded it to my father for a Tillman jersey.  Tillman embodies not only the legacy of a fallen warrior, but also the wounded pride of Arizona Cardinal Football.  And I support it, with all my heart. 

I was a skeptical football fan.  I am now a painted-face, season- ticket-holding, tail-gateing football fan.  

I. Am. Now. A. Cardinals. Fan.  And forever will be. 

Who wants a piece of me in Fantasy Football next year?  

BRING IT.

(and, oh yeah, F U Vegas.  They didn't cover the spread.  If you bet the AZ CARDINALS, YOU WON.)

SUCK IT TRABECK.

Jack of All Trades.

 

Made with Picassa for Mac.

Win One for The Mommy Bloggers!

Today, I received my ABA Journal Tech Report e-mail, and instead of trashing it instantly, I scanned it to see what's new in Legal Technology.

This article caught my eye. It seems that the "war" of online musical piracy I discussed in my law school note (published at 44 Ariz. L. Rev. 495, if you have Westlaw/Lexis/Lois/a free half hour, bus fare and coins for the copy machine at your local law library) continues, and now the collateral damage includes young mothers who haphazardly film their children gyrating to The Artist Formerly Known As Prince's (insert symbol) ("AFKAP") music.

Long story short, she posted a video of her kid dancing to Lets Go Crazy by AFKAP, and Universal Music Group told YouTube to take it down as a copyright infringement.

Instead of laying down, she just put Universal Music Group over her lap and started whacking their respective bottoms (with the help of trusty legal counsel, no less).

For you non-lawyers, the first section is all you need to read. For the rest of us non-laymen (yes, I made that up on the fly) the rest of the article is a nice distraction from your daily dribble of contracts, professional liability, tort appropriation and cy pres.

The Potty Training Diaries - Week 1

Jack turned three on January 23rd.  For months, we've been telling him that he had to start peeing/pooping in the "potty" when he was three.  Since he is the master procrastinator, he repeatedly and readily agreed.

His third birthday came and he was given underwear for his birthday.  Hardly something to get excited about under normal circumstances (aside from the male-female exchange of "exciting" undergarments at the festival of love known as Valentines Day, of course) but Jack was fired up.  He instantly donned them and celebrated.  (I would provide a photo, but pedophiles make me sick and I will not subject my kids to their viewing.  So here's *half* a picture.)

He wore them for a solid seven minutes.  Then back to diapers, where he could urinate and defecate to his hearts content.  The potty, I think, is somewhat of an annoyance to him, a speed bump in his otherwise light-speed pace.  (Someday, he'll learn the benefit of a savored "pit stop" with proper reading material or "Bubble Breaker" cell phone game.)  

So we're only about five days into Week 1 of the Potty Training Excercise, but so far there's been only one accident.  Having donned the new undershorts, he was playing with playdough at the table, stood bolt upright on the chair, let the jet stream flow, and then remarked, "oh no, oh no, oh no!"  Luckily, the pee was contained on the chair and didn't find its way to the carpet.  And, thankfully, so far no "#2" incidents.  

Jack Turns Three!!!

It was three years ago to this day that two medical residents extracted my eldest son from Ashley's abdomen using scalpels and anesthetic, as they haphazardly discussed their recent purchase of "show horses."  

True story.  I was there.  

Happy birthday, Jackson.

Jackanese Update

"Boll-ey Ball" - Volleyball

Raspberries

When Sam gets tired, he blows raspberries.  Why? Who knows.

Best Line of the Week

Jack's birthday party was recently announced. The "theme" of Jack's party (to the extent a three year old can dictate the thematic nature of his own celebrations) is "Cars the Movie." In keeping with the "theme," the invitations prominently featured Cars the Movie star Lightning McQueen, the star of many an adolescents wonderment.

Today, I received an email from a good friend inquiring about the type of present that Jack would appreciate. It's the type of thoughtfulness and foresight that this particular friend exhibits frequently. Our friend first posed the question of whether they should bring "Cars the Movie"-related presents. Fair enough. He then added a small post script that brought me to tears.

Aside from being thoughtful and organized, this guy's really funny to boot. I love to laugh and love to make other people laugh, so I relish good one liners, and this little gem cannot go unrepeated. After asking about the type of present, my esteemed colleague went on to describe how his son, one of Jack's good buddies and frequent playmate, reacted to learning that Jack was having the Disney/Pixar(r) animated movie themed fiesta:

"By the way, you should have seen [his] reaction when we showed him the invite and told him that he was going to Jack's Cars the Movie birthday party. It was like inviting a frat boy to free lap dance night."