The Job

This is what the job hunting experience is coming down to...

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Spring Break Day 2

Day two, my sister Courtney visited with cousin Dora and the kids all played together while I tried to steal a piece of a delicious chocolate cake Court made for my birthday. It was nice visit.

That evening Harrison and Sawyer conned grandma into getting the toy guns out of the barn. When grandma appeared with a few selections from the child arsenal Sawyer got a big old grin on his 3-year-old mug. "Well, well, well," he said, "And what do we have here?" We about died laughing. After eyeing it over he then declared that, "he was pretty much satisfied with his gun."

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Spring Break Day 1

Spring break with my boys, Noah, Harrison and Sawyer has come and gone so quickly it almost doesn't seem like it actually happened. Five days ago I flew to Chicago, drove two hours to Indiana, picked them up and drove another five hours to my parents' place somehow managing to keep them entertained without the help of a portable DVD player. The boys were extremely disappointed that they couldn't discuss every episode of their favorite superhero shows, but they did take some consolation in asking every twenty minutes how much farther till we made it to grandma's. Sawyer really enjoyed his snacks for the trip although he wore most of them on his face.



Eventually we did and the kids hit the ground running, fully aware that they had a three solid hours where they could re-enact most of Clock Work Orange and grandma and grandpa would delight in their every antic as, "just so cute." After imposing marshal law as a means to get them to get jammies on I turned around to see that Harrison, AKA "The Batman" was ready to answer the Bat Signal in Gotham...



It was a low-key visit. As long as a muddy creek with rocks and sticks existed along with an occasional reptile show and a little BB gun target shooting, who needs Girls Gone Wild? On day one, despite 40 degree weather, the boys just had to go outside promising not to get wet in the creek behind the house. That lasted about 3.6 seconds as each of them indicated they were "cleaning off their boots" and just "slipped," which explained why everything below their waist was soaked. The rest of the day was spent playing Uno (Noah came from 300+ points to beat me - I think he cheated), making tomahawks (see John "Talking Cloud" Lennon below) and general goofing off.



Things got real interesting as Harrison talked Grandpa into making Batman gadgets. Not quite up to speed on the DC universe Grandpa got a little frustrated as he received an explanation on a "bat-a-rang," but eventually he figured it out and Harrison was quite pleased with the outcome.



The rest of the evening passed quietly until Sawyer started yakking what seemed like a 55 gallon drum full of oranges, pizza and Doritos chips. Three changes of PJ's, four changes of sheets, and five hours later the little guy was fine. As he lay next to me in bed he blurted out, "Dad, no more chips for me!" I could only imagine how bad those were coming back up.

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Hitting Below the Belch

Before you read further I ask that you first, take a few moments to look at the pictures of these two little girls one more time.

Ok, now what words would you use to describe them? Precious Adorable Cute... I'm sure you came up with those descriptions and many more along the same lines, all of which would be equally appropriate. Allie and Avery are as darling as two little girls can be; however, they share a disturbing dark power putting them in the ranks of such horror classics as Chucky, Damian, and Children of the Corn. You laugh, but this evil that they wield is quite serious I assure you. And what is this darkness wrought forth by such delicate little angels? I will tell you.

These little cherubs can let rip burps measurable on the Richtor Scale!

I am not joking, people. Allow me to tell of my the first experience in being subjected to this most unholy evil. It was the first dinner Ashley ever cooked and it was delicious. I inhaled large forkfuls, completely unaware of the impending doom yet to be revealed by Allie, age 5 and 4-year-old Avery. Without warning they opened their mouths uttering an apocalyptic noise described only the book of Revelations. Once the ringing stopped in my ears, and I cleaned the blood from my punctured eardrum, my first thought was to politely suggest to Ashley that she should have these little dears tested or something. To me, it just didn’t seem normal for such frail creatures to bellow sounds at a decibel levels that would drown out a KISS concert or with such ferocity that they reduce the mighty King of the Jungle to live the life of a gay vegetarian.

Being that it was very early in our dating relationship, I felt it inappropriate to curb the girls charming behavior, but I couldn’t condone it either. Picking another piece of broccoli from my hair and placing it back onto my plate, I looked at Ashley to see how she would deal with the matter. To my relief she acted as I would’ve expected a parent to, furrowing her brow as she looked at the eerily silent (and exhausted) girls. "Here we go," I thought as her mouth opened to deliver a stern rebuke or better yet, a gentle rebuff given that company was present. I couldn't have been more wrong as Ashley, instead, unleashed the sound of Hell itself, launching a fresh round of broccoli and mashed potatoes into my hair. High fives all around. It was like Animal House on Bizzaro World and they looked at me as if I were this year's newest pledge.

"So this condition, is it genetic?" I asked, untangling my hair from rapidly drying gravy. However, after repeated episodes, I realized there was nothing medical about this dark art. Scraping the remnants of another evening's meal off the usual spots on the wall, I pictured Ashley making her Faustian agreement with a belching demon. I wondered which of the two parties made out better in the deal. At the very least I know what Ashley received, but that she shared it with the girls blew me away (no pun intended). It's one thing to watch Ashley conjure forth the stench of burning sulfur mixed with chili cheese fries in the face of a three-hundred pound beer-guzzling biker forcing him to fall on his knees, pleading for heaven's deliverance. It's quite another to watch Allie and Avery follow up this savagery by repeating it in each of his ears thus vaporizing his body into ash as he spontaneously combusts.

Many times, you’ve seen kids get away with a burp here and there, giggling with pride at their achievement, but these "normal" child-like burps are comparable to say, the mere clicking a pen or the snapping of a clothespin. Often these little scamps will attempt to repeat their mischievousness but find they are unable to duplicate its authenticity forcing them to grunt, instead, hope the hoax won’t bring their fun to an end. At worst, they may try too hard, triggering their gag reflux which results in the projecting of chocolate milk from their nostrils as I once witnessed a third-grade classmate do during lunch. He however, was more dork than evil sorcerer. Allie and Avery on the other hand would probably laugh in disgust at their peers' pathetic and foolish attempts to harness such force. A force, I will add, measurable, not only in volume but in length as well. In one instance, Allie belted one out lasting long enough for her to shift from first to fifth without missing or grinding a gear.

I have gained some ground in this unholy war of good and evil. The first step was to recognize the signs preceding, what I call, "the unleashing." Most telling is the rapid gulping of vast quantities of carbonated beverages, followed by a glazed-over look resembling that of the scary twins in The Shining. Upon recognition I’ve learned to cover my ears and duck. I've also learned to remain in that position for several minutes as there are almost always aftershocks. The best defense thus far has been to insist on the use of straws, while outlawing all liquids containing carbon in any form, and then to, of course duck and cover since the use of straws and choice of beverage are immaterial.

In an attempt to at least establish some form of Christian decency, I've been requiring the girls (all of them) to piously chant, "Excuse me, I'm a princess" following each demonic eruption. It's my hope that these poltergeists will repent in the realization that "real" princesses are much too proper to engage in such devilish acts. At first, I believed that my little exorcism might be working until it dawned on me that they had turned my offering for salvation into a mocking taunt. It's almost wasn’t worth continuing on any more. In the instance where Allie displayed her adeptness in driving a stick, I quietly reminded her by asking, "What do you say, Sweetie?" She looked up at me, breaking into a huge grin. "That was a big one!" High fives and uncontrollable laughter all around. Forgive them Lord, they know not what they do.

I never considered myself a saint but I will take that mantle over being a martyr any time. What am I referring to? I'm beginning to fear for my life. It’s the littlest one that scares me the most. She's developed an additional hideousness felt only by those civilizations, that upon contact with this evil, were instantly wiped from the memory of the earth. One evening Avery and I sat on the couch watching cartoons in a bonding moment worthy of Hallmark. I looked down at her and smiled, while in the distance, I heard gentle thunder build. However, the ensuing horror was not thunder, dwarfing it tenfold. A stench appeared, making the maggot-filled, butt hole on a dead donkey’s carcass, half-decayed in its own fesses, smell as fragrant as spring flowers sprayed with Chanel. This dark stench lifted me into the air and hurled me into the wall behind us. Dazed, I got to my feet and slowly approached Avery, making signs of the cross with each step. Avery never budged through the whole thing. I called her name. Lightning flashed, and her head spun a full 360 degrees stopping when it locked onto my presence. "Ron, I like you." she said with an unholy smile. Then she patted the seat next to her, "You're funny."

All that have ears hear me now. For those that see this all as another opportunity to cry, "Girl Power!" with a thrust of your fist into the air; for those feminists out there that seen this as the destruction of yet another male-stronghold; and for those that believe this to be final sign confirming the prophesy of the country’s first woman president, I implore you to open your eyes and see the truth. Those sweet girls are made of anything but “sugar and spice and everything nice.” Pray for me. Pray for deliverance.

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