Wednesday, February 18, 2009

true stories

The van on the way to HEB:
Sofie: What do we have to buy?
Me: Cake mix and deodorant.
Sofie: Who is the deodorant for?
Me: Dad.
Malcolm: What's deodorant?
Me:
Sofie: I know what it's for (grinning).
Malcolm: What?
Sofie: It goes in your armpits (giggling).
Malcolm: (giggling) I know that, but what's it for.
Sofie: I'm not sure, but it's either for growing hair there or not growing hair there. So...it's for dad, so I guess it's for not growing hair there because he's got a lot of hair there.

true story. ;o)

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

the house, the house, the house is on fire...

Well, not technically the house - just the greenbelt. So, I'm watching the kids play outside Sunday around 4:00 and I run inside (tagging Eddie as he runs out to watch them) to quickly finish dinner and...drink a beer. More like slam a beer since I rarely can enjoy a drink - let alone a beer. Ed takes over watching the kiddos play outside with our neighbor and good friend S. Next thing I know Malcolm is speeding through the backdoor screaming in a high pitched seven year old boy voice, "Mr. S. called 911 because there is a FIRE in the greenbelt." The winds were about 50 - 60 MPH Sunday. And, although I am prone to exaggerate (no?) I don't think that I am right now. So, I knew if Malcolm had got it right it could be dangerous. I calmly walked outside and I couldn't see E. or S. or any of the kids. I went to the back, looked into the greenbelt and sure enough I saw smoke. So, I went back in to turn off the stove. One fire seemed like enough. ;o) By the time I went back out - the fire was, oh, about 15 FEET HIGH. It was crazy. A few seconds later the fire truck showed up and our block was alive with activity. The firemen were able to contain the fire and thankfully no fences or houses were damaged. When all was said and done there was about 50 feet of scorched earth and lots of stink behind our block. I got back to my warm beer a few hours and two fire trucks later. Needless to say the fire drew out most of our neighborhood and the neighborhood in the back. It was like a huge cook-out except with no meat, lots of firemen, and the anxiety that goes with having avoided a potentially life-threatening situation. Later that evening Malcolm lost another tooth. He went to bed saying, "This has been the most exciting weekend EVER. Mr. S. called 911, we saw a fire, and I lost a tooth." I couldn't have said it better.

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