Ryan and Ethan were eating a snack this afternoon and I stepped into the other room for something. When I came back into the kitchen there was an unfortunate scent floating about. You know the one I am referring to.
"Smells like someone pooped his pants," I said as I sat down.
Ryan looks at me, wide eyed with surprise. "Wasn't me! I didn't do it. It was probably Ethan!"
"I know who is was, Ryan," I said, picking up Ethan. "No need to think that I am blaming you for this olfactory offense."
He calmed down a bit and looked distinctly relieved. "Oh, good. Well, just so you know, it could have been me. I don't wipe well and sometimes it gets all crusty."
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Did you know this about elves?
Just the other day we were talking about what he wanted for Christmas. After he had completed his list, he asked me what I wanted from Santa. I told him that I wanted a 52" LCD or Plasma TV. He thought about it for a second and then said, "It is good that you want that, but there is just one slight problem."
This is his new favorite phrase, "one slight problem", so I pressed him on it. "Oh? What is that problem?"
"The Elves don't know how to make cords."
"Really? So they can make the TV, but they can't make the cords that plug into everything?"
"Right. So it looks like you won't be getting your TV this year."
Nuts. I was really counting on those elves to come through for me this year.
This is his new favorite phrase, "one slight problem", so I pressed him on it. "Oh? What is that problem?"
"The Elves don't know how to make cords."
"Really? So they can make the TV, but they can't make the cords that plug into everything?"
"Right. So it looks like you won't be getting your TV this year."
Nuts. I was really counting on those elves to come through for me this year.
I May or May Not Spy
Since the beginning of the year, Jen and I have been working at the same school. This gives us a chance to ride into work with the boys 2 days a week. The rides in the morning are normally not terribly eventful as all of us are barely awake, and the only excitement comes when Mr. Sun comes out from behind the clouds and blinds the driver causing unknown damage to his/her retinas and forcing the rest of the family to scream “Watch the CAR! OHMIGOD You almost hit that car!” This normally doesn’t happen, but when it does, we are wired for a little while, let me tell you.
Anyway, while the trips in the morning are relatively boring, the trips home can be a little more happening. We sometimes play a game called “I Spy” in which the instigator, normally Ryan, starts off by saying “I spy with my monkey eye, something that is…” followed by a descriptor. This descriptor can be anything – color, size, location – and most often they are fairly simple. For example, he might say “I spy with my monkey eye something that is white,” and we have to guess that it is the white stripe on the road. On the other hand, sometimes he tells us that he is going to come up with something really hard in which case what he is spying is normally a single bird in a flock a thousand strong, or an individual blade of grass.
The other night he outdid even himself. He started off with his typical “This one is going to be tough,” and stated that he spied something white. We began guessing.
“Is it the line on the road,” I asked.
“Nope,” he replied, smiling.
“Is it the white car over there,” Jen asked pointing.
“Nope.”
“Is it the bird way over there?”
“Nope. Keep guessing!”
And so we did. After about five minutes of the “Is it the…” followed by laughter and “Nope!” I figure that he is just messing with us and I decided on a different tack.
“Is it a squid?”
He paused for a moment. “Huh? A squid? No…not a squid.”
“How about an albino squirrel?”
“What’s albino mean?”
“It is a genetic mutation that causes animals to be all white. Never mind.” Whoops. I forget that he is only 4 sometimes. “Is it a jellyfish?”
“No jellyfish in this game.”
“Perhaps a white whale?” (Thar she blows!)
“No, dad,” Ryan said with all the contempt a 4 year old could muster. “Nothing from the sea and no weird all-white other animals either.”
Well that kinda killed all of my other guesses. Surely he couldn’t really mean what he just said about things from the sea. I pressed on. “Is it a white starfish?”
I heard a tiny sigh from the backseat. “Yes. It is a white starfish. You win.”
“Yea!” I exclaim, relishing the victory. “But wait. Where do you see a white starfish?”
“I don’t see one. It is imaginary.”
“But this game is supposed to be ‘I Spy’, not ‘I Imagine’,” I said.
“I know, but you were never going to guess my thing anyway.”
“We might have. Give your parents some credit. Tell me your thing and we’ll see if mom and I would have ever guessed it.”
“That flake of snow on the sign back there.”
As it turns out, he was right. We never would have guessed that.
Anyway, while the trips in the morning are relatively boring, the trips home can be a little more happening. We sometimes play a game called “I Spy” in which the instigator, normally Ryan, starts off by saying “I spy with my monkey eye, something that is…” followed by a descriptor. This descriptor can be anything – color, size, location – and most often they are fairly simple. For example, he might say “I spy with my monkey eye something that is white,” and we have to guess that it is the white stripe on the road. On the other hand, sometimes he tells us that he is going to come up with something really hard in which case what he is spying is normally a single bird in a flock a thousand strong, or an individual blade of grass.
The other night he outdid even himself. He started off with his typical “This one is going to be tough,” and stated that he spied something white. We began guessing.
“Is it the line on the road,” I asked.
“Nope,” he replied, smiling.
“Is it the white car over there,” Jen asked pointing.
“Nope.”
“Is it the bird way over there?”
“Nope. Keep guessing!”
And so we did. After about five minutes of the “Is it the…” followed by laughter and “Nope!” I figure that he is just messing with us and I decided on a different tack.
“Is it a squid?”
He paused for a moment. “Huh? A squid? No…not a squid.”
“How about an albino squirrel?”
“What’s albino mean?”
“It is a genetic mutation that causes animals to be all white. Never mind.” Whoops. I forget that he is only 4 sometimes. “Is it a jellyfish?”
“No jellyfish in this game.”
“Perhaps a white whale?” (Thar she blows!)
“No, dad,” Ryan said with all the contempt a 4 year old could muster. “Nothing from the sea and no weird all-white other animals either.”
Well that kinda killed all of my other guesses. Surely he couldn’t really mean what he just said about things from the sea. I pressed on. “Is it a white starfish?”
I heard a tiny sigh from the backseat. “Yes. It is a white starfish. You win.”
“Yea!” I exclaim, relishing the victory. “But wait. Where do you see a white starfish?”
“I don’t see one. It is imaginary.”
“But this game is supposed to be ‘I Spy’, not ‘I Imagine’,” I said.
“I know, but you were never going to guess my thing anyway.”
“We might have. Give your parents some credit. Tell me your thing and we’ll see if mom and I would have ever guessed it.”
“That flake of snow on the sign back there.”
As it turns out, he was right. We never would have guessed that.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Today is Barack Obama day!
Actually, November 4th was Barack Obama day according to my son Ryan. He went around telling everyone with ears to hear him that the election was going to be won by Barack Obama because he is "awesome" and "not John McCain". I would like to stress the fact that while his mother and I are flaming liberals and were totally behind Obama from the start, we rarely discussed politics when the kids were around. Not because we were trying to hide anything from them, but because any time we try and talk about something other than Ethan's dinner, Ryans trains, Ryan's current level of dissatisfaction with the proximity of his younger brother to said trains, or candy, we get interrupted about every 2.4 seconds with one or the other of the boys interjecting "Mom! Dad!" or "Eeegh! Ake!" depending on the age and vocabulary of the one doing the interrupting. This makes it all the more surprising that Ryan became a huge fan of our president-elect.
I was first made aware of his love for Obama when we accidentally found ourselves at a "NObama" rally held outside the local Barnes and Nobel store. As we drove up to the parking lot of the bookstore, I noticed a bus plastered with pictures of McCain and Palin and a few hundred people surrounding it. A womans voice was clearly audible even from where we parked, and I thought it sounded like the woman herself, Sarah Palin. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to go hear her speak, so I grabbed Ethan in my arms and the three Doyle boys set out to attend our first political rally as a family.
About 50 yards from the stage, the speaker said something, I forget what, that made it clear that it was not actually Sarah Palin speaking. (In hindsight it is obvious that there is no way in hell she would have been out in a parking lot in Illinois that close to the election, but the person speaking really sounded like her.) I decided that if we weren't going to hear Palin speak that we would just head into the bookstore as we had planned. On the way back to the store, Ryan asked some questions.
"What were those people doing there, Dad?"
"They were having a political rally," I said.
Ever the curious one, he asked, "What is a rally?"
"A rally is when people who all believe the same thing get together and cheer each other on."
"Like at the Fire games?" Thats my boy...way to bring it back to soccer!
"Yep, except at this rally the people are not cheering for a team, they are cheering against a person."
A confused look crossed his face. "Who are they cheering against?"
"They don't like Barack Obama and would rather see John McCain elected president. They are cheering against Obama and the things he wants to do as president."
And then, with no prompting whatsoever, he says, "Well that's stupid. Barack Obama is going to win. He is totally awesome."
And with that my son made his first correct political prediction, and election day (and each subsequent day) became "Barack Obama Day".
Let's just hope that Ryan is correct about Obama being "awesome" as well.
I was first made aware of his love for Obama when we accidentally found ourselves at a "NObama" rally held outside the local Barnes and Nobel store. As we drove up to the parking lot of the bookstore, I noticed a bus plastered with pictures of McCain and Palin and a few hundred people surrounding it. A womans voice was clearly audible even from where we parked, and I thought it sounded like the woman herself, Sarah Palin. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to go hear her speak, so I grabbed Ethan in my arms and the three Doyle boys set out to attend our first political rally as a family.
About 50 yards from the stage, the speaker said something, I forget what, that made it clear that it was not actually Sarah Palin speaking. (In hindsight it is obvious that there is no way in hell she would have been out in a parking lot in Illinois that close to the election, but the person speaking really sounded like her.) I decided that if we weren't going to hear Palin speak that we would just head into the bookstore as we had planned. On the way back to the store, Ryan asked some questions.
"What were those people doing there, Dad?"
"They were having a political rally," I said.
Ever the curious one, he asked, "What is a rally?"
"A rally is when people who all believe the same thing get together and cheer each other on."
"Like at the Fire games?" Thats my boy...way to bring it back to soccer!
"Yep, except at this rally the people are not cheering for a team, they are cheering against a person."
A confused look crossed his face. "Who are they cheering against?"
"They don't like Barack Obama and would rather see John McCain elected president. They are cheering against Obama and the things he wants to do as president."
And then, with no prompting whatsoever, he says, "Well that's stupid. Barack Obama is going to win. He is totally awesome."
And with that my son made his first correct political prediction, and election day (and each subsequent day) became "Barack Obama Day".
Let's just hope that Ryan is correct about Obama being "awesome" as well.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
The littlest Doyle speaks!
Finally, the littlest Doyle does something worth writing about. After a little over a year of basically just eating, pooping, and sleeping, he is now starting to walk and talk a bit. He has been crawling for quite a while and, believe me, while this starts out being kinda cool it quickly loses its luster when he gets it into his little laser-focused brain that he wants to knock over all the DVD’s, eat his brother’s crayons, or play in the toilet. No amount of picking him up and moving him to another part of the room deters him from his mission. Typically, as soon as you put him down he laughs and turns immediately to head back to continue where he left off. I half expect him to flip me the bird as he crawls away.
Recently he started heading right for the stairs whenever he was given the opportunity. He loved the thrill of the chase, apparently, because he would begin by playing quietly until we became distracted by something else. As soon as our back were turned, he would bolt for the stairs, laughing his little head off and crawling as far up them as he could in the time it would take Jen or I to catch him. Having a four year old in the house makes for fairly distracted parents, so he got plenty of practice. It got to the point where he could make almost to the top of the stairs before we could catch him. The little sucker is quick.
Now he is talking a bit and says things like “Dada”, “Mama”, “Non-non”, and “peaches”. These are all great, and it is wonderful to hear “DADA!” when I come home, but my favorite word of his is “Ake!”
He was sitting in his seat after dinner and Jen and Ryan were having a little cake for dessert. Jen, being a good mom, didn’t want her littlest son to miss out on the experience of chocolate cake, so she gave him a little forkful of the stuff. He seemed to dig it, because after finishing his little bite, he began pounding on the table with his little fists, shouting “Ake! Ake!” and pointing at the rest of the piece on Ryan’s plate.
Thankfully he was satisfied with a few more bites from Jen's piece because, as you are all probably aware, 4 year olds do not share cake well.
Recently he started heading right for the stairs whenever he was given the opportunity. He loved the thrill of the chase, apparently, because he would begin by playing quietly until we became distracted by something else. As soon as our back were turned, he would bolt for the stairs, laughing his little head off and crawling as far up them as he could in the time it would take Jen or I to catch him. Having a four year old in the house makes for fairly distracted parents, so he got plenty of practice. It got to the point where he could make almost to the top of the stairs before we could catch him. The little sucker is quick.
Now he is talking a bit and says things like “Dada”, “Mama”, “Non-non”, and “peaches”. These are all great, and it is wonderful to hear “DADA!” when I come home, but my favorite word of his is “Ake!”
He was sitting in his seat after dinner and Jen and Ryan were having a little cake for dessert. Jen, being a good mom, didn’t want her littlest son to miss out on the experience of chocolate cake, so she gave him a little forkful of the stuff. He seemed to dig it, because after finishing his little bite, he began pounding on the table with his little fists, shouting “Ake! Ake!” and pointing at the rest of the piece on Ryan’s plate.
Thankfully he was satisfied with a few more bites from Jen's piece because, as you are all probably aware, 4 year olds do not share cake well.
I was right!
I was chatting with my brother the other day when the topic of conversation switched, as it inevitably does, to sports. We were both bemoaning the terrible status of our schools respective football teams, both of which are having a difficult time this season. My school is having such a tough time that we joked about the idea that the soccer team has scored more goals this season than the football team has points. I even went so far as to say that I thought that this was actually the case, but I’d have to look into it.
I did, and unfortunately I was right. The football team has scored a total of 24 points this season after 5 games, while the soccer team has scored 27 goals in 15 games.
I was right, and I rule.
I did, and unfortunately I was right. The football team has scored a total of 24 points this season after 5 games, while the soccer team has scored 27 goals in 15 games.
I was right, and I rule.
Friday, September 5, 2008
It begins...
As it turns out, there are a lot of words in the French language. And, as you may or may not be aware, they are often different from the words in English, which makes the learning process that much more difficult. If other languages would simply use the same words with a slightly different accent, learning another language would be so much simpler. Plus, it would certainly cut down on the misunderstandings that crop up from time to time in international relations.
I have spent some time with several books, podcasts, and websites in my attempt to learn French, and each of these things is helpful in its own way. For some reason though, the thing that works the best for me is listening to music. Maybe it is the beat in the background, the voice of the singer, or the fact that music tends to get lodged in my brain and won’t go away for days at a time so I end up with phrases repeating over and over again until I forget it, replace it with a new phrase, or go gradually insane. I can’t tell you how many times I have had “Hot Potato” by the damn Wiggles, the theme song for Thomas the Tank Engine, or something by Laurie Berkner running through my head all the live long day. Thankfully Ryan is getting away from “kids” music and moving into other genres.
As I mentioned in previous posts, he has been groomed to enjoy Metallica (“Enter Sandman” is still one of his favorite requests), and he, with the help of his dad, is now a fan of French pop music (although to be more accurate, he is a fan of French pop music circa 2001, with a few newer tunes thrown in). His personal favorite (and for the time being mine as well) is one called “Mademoiselle Juliette” by Alizee. You can catch him singing it from time to time. It's adorable.
We often have dance parties in the basement in which we play music loudly and “dance” around, (basically jumping and running and flopping on the couch), while “singing” at the top of our lungs. I know the words to the song because I have looked them up and translated them for practice, but he has no real idea what he is saying so it comes out something like this:
“MADEMOISELLE JULIETTE-AH, la, la la la TÊTE-AH, la, la, la, la, la, something - CAPULET!”
All things considered, this isn’t bad for a 4 year old. He has the rhythm of the song and he apparently can hear the main emphasis words, so I’d say he is doing fairly well. With Uncle Justin speaking Spanish with him and dad attempting French around him, he might well turn out to understand a little of both languages, which would be fairly cool.
The other day we were hanging out during his resting time (i.e. naptime on days when he simply WON’T nap) watching The Incredibles and Toy Story videos on the Disney site when Ryan asked to hear his favorite song. Since we were in a video state of mind, I asked if he would rather watch the video that goes along with it and he readily agreed. So we went to a website with music videos on it and in a few moments we were watching. He sang along and enjoyed it, asking questions about what the boy is doing, what she said, and why she didn’t like the girl in black. When it was over, he asked if there were more music videos he could see.
So I made a deal with him in which we would put the videos on the TV while we played baseball. It wasn’t terribly difficult to get him to agree to this since both were things he wanted to do, and I set up a little queue to play a few videos and we found his squishy ball and bat.
He wanted to be the pitcher first and I totally cranked his first offering into the far wall. I am unbelievably good at basement baseball when he pitches the ball exactly where my bat happens to be. He glanced at the TV for a few seconds and tossed the ball again. The next pitch didn’t go as well, and I hit the ball off the end of the bat causing it to spin erratically off and hit the TV. My boy has a different feeling regarding my abilities. “You are terrible at this, Dad,” he said.
He pitched it again and I hit this one off the top of the bat which gave the ball a little spin. This caused it to whiz toward the ceiling where it ricocheted off an exposed beam and smacked into a picture frame on the wall. The picture frame wobbled for a second and then righted itself without falling off the shelf. The ball then fell through the net of his basketball hoop and came to rest right at his feet. Surprised at what just happened, I looked at Ryan and said, “Wow! That was rather exotic, don’t you think?”
He looked at me with confusion all over his face. “Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“What does ‘exotic’ mean?”
Nuts. While I feel like I have a decent vocabulary, I am not often very good at actually defining words. I gave it a shot anyway. “Well, it means different or unusual,” I said.
“Oh. Like when Ethan poops and it gets out of his diaper and into his pants. That is exotic?”
“No, that’s gross," I said, making a face. "But it’s a start. Most of the time ‘exotic’ is used to refer to something that is out of the ordinary. Often we use it to mean far away, or interesting, or something that we haven’t really had much experience with.”
“Like the island where Dash runs on water in the Incredibles! It’s far away and very pretty.” Everything comes back to the Incredibles.
“Yeah. Just like the island in the Incredibles.”
He smiled. “Dad?” he said, eyes moving between me and the TV.
“Yep?”
He pointed at the TV which is still showing Alizee music videos. “She’s exotic.”
There wasn’t much to say after that.
I have spent some time with several books, podcasts, and websites in my attempt to learn French, and each of these things is helpful in its own way. For some reason though, the thing that works the best for me is listening to music. Maybe it is the beat in the background, the voice of the singer, or the fact that music tends to get lodged in my brain and won’t go away for days at a time so I end up with phrases repeating over and over again until I forget it, replace it with a new phrase, or go gradually insane. I can’t tell you how many times I have had “Hot Potato” by the damn Wiggles, the theme song for Thomas the Tank Engine, or something by Laurie Berkner running through my head all the live long day. Thankfully Ryan is getting away from “kids” music and moving into other genres.
As I mentioned in previous posts, he has been groomed to enjoy Metallica (“Enter Sandman” is still one of his favorite requests), and he, with the help of his dad, is now a fan of French pop music (although to be more accurate, he is a fan of French pop music circa 2001, with a few newer tunes thrown in). His personal favorite (and for the time being mine as well) is one called “Mademoiselle Juliette” by Alizee. You can catch him singing it from time to time. It's adorable.
We often have dance parties in the basement in which we play music loudly and “dance” around, (basically jumping and running and flopping on the couch), while “singing” at the top of our lungs. I know the words to the song because I have looked them up and translated them for practice, but he has no real idea what he is saying so it comes out something like this:
“MADEMOISELLE JULIETTE-AH, la, la la la TÊTE-AH, la, la, la, la, la, something - CAPULET!”
All things considered, this isn’t bad for a 4 year old. He has the rhythm of the song and he apparently can hear the main emphasis words, so I’d say he is doing fairly well. With Uncle Justin speaking Spanish with him and dad attempting French around him, he might well turn out to understand a little of both languages, which would be fairly cool.
The other day we were hanging out during his resting time (i.e. naptime on days when he simply WON’T nap) watching The Incredibles and Toy Story videos on the Disney site when Ryan asked to hear his favorite song. Since we were in a video state of mind, I asked if he would rather watch the video that goes along with it and he readily agreed. So we went to a website with music videos on it and in a few moments we were watching. He sang along and enjoyed it, asking questions about what the boy is doing, what she said, and why she didn’t like the girl in black. When it was over, he asked if there were more music videos he could see.
So I made a deal with him in which we would put the videos on the TV while we played baseball. It wasn’t terribly difficult to get him to agree to this since both were things he wanted to do, and I set up a little queue to play a few videos and we found his squishy ball and bat.
He wanted to be the pitcher first and I totally cranked his first offering into the far wall. I am unbelievably good at basement baseball when he pitches the ball exactly where my bat happens to be. He glanced at the TV for a few seconds and tossed the ball again. The next pitch didn’t go as well, and I hit the ball off the end of the bat causing it to spin erratically off and hit the TV. My boy has a different feeling regarding my abilities. “You are terrible at this, Dad,” he said.
He pitched it again and I hit this one off the top of the bat which gave the ball a little spin. This caused it to whiz toward the ceiling where it ricocheted off an exposed beam and smacked into a picture frame on the wall. The picture frame wobbled for a second and then righted itself without falling off the shelf. The ball then fell through the net of his basketball hoop and came to rest right at his feet. Surprised at what just happened, I looked at Ryan and said, “Wow! That was rather exotic, don’t you think?”
He looked at me with confusion all over his face. “Dad?”
“Yeah.”
“What does ‘exotic’ mean?”
Nuts. While I feel like I have a decent vocabulary, I am not often very good at actually defining words. I gave it a shot anyway. “Well, it means different or unusual,” I said.
“Oh. Like when Ethan poops and it gets out of his diaper and into his pants. That is exotic?”
“No, that’s gross," I said, making a face. "But it’s a start. Most of the time ‘exotic’ is used to refer to something that is out of the ordinary. Often we use it to mean far away, or interesting, or something that we haven’t really had much experience with.”
“Like the island where Dash runs on water in the Incredibles! It’s far away and very pretty.” Everything comes back to the Incredibles.
“Yeah. Just like the island in the Incredibles.”
He smiled. “Dad?” he said, eyes moving between me and the TV.
“Yep?”
He pointed at the TV which is still showing Alizee music videos. “She’s exotic.”
There wasn’t much to say after that.
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