She Pooped a Sticker

Well, that was the punchline, hope you enjoyed it. There's not that much more to tell, really. Once you see something like that, nothing will ever surprise you again.

OK, ok...I'll give you a FEW more details. The other night, as we were sitting down to dinner, our 4-year-old daughter came over and put a pink, heart-shaped sticker on the back on my hand. Being a hairy guy, I really love this, by the way. I always smile and lovingly accept the sticker, knowing that later, I will be ripping hair follicles from my flesh in an effort to remove the thing.

Anyway, we ate dinner, the sticker was on my hand, life was good. I never really thought any more about it until the next day when I noticed that the sticker was gone. Must have fallen off, I though. Right.

My wife called me at work that morning in hysterics. Apparently, our 9-month-old daughter had unleashed a whopper.

"You will never believe what's in our daughter's diaper!"

OK, I thought. There are really only two choices, in my book...neither of them are really anything I care to think about in any amount of great detail, especially while at work.

It seems that neither "number one" nor "number two" were the proper choices in this case. You see, there was a mysterious "number three"...a pink, heart-shaped sticker was apparently conducting an experiment in osmosis with "number two".

I remember picking her up after dinner and carrying her over to the sink to clean off her hands...and face, and hair, and eyebrows, and eyelashes, and ears, and pants...you know what it's like when a 9-month-old feeds herself. She tends to look like she's been in a Thanksgiving Day food fight after every meal.

Anyway, all I can figure is that, while I was distracted, she must have peeled the sticker off my hand and thought it looked yummy...so down the hatch it went.

Like Bill Cosby says, "Babies have no digestive system. IN a raisin....OUT a raisin."

So the lesson here is that I guess we need to keep a closer eye on what's around the baby at all times. Babies are faster than they seem. She can turn off the computer before I even realize she's under my chair.

Lesson learned. Hey! Has anyone seen my watch??

Has Anyone Seen My Balls?

So I'm pulling into the driveway after work last week and I hit the 'open' button on the automatic garage door remote.

As the door opens, I see that my daughter's inflatable ball pit, which we decided to store in the garage since she's not playing with it that much anymore, has deflated. Not only has it deflated but, AS it was slowly deflating, it slipped off of the dining room table that we keep in our garage and flipped over, landing upside-down in my parking spot.

Why do we keep a dining room table in our garage? Because we've converted our dining room into a 'play room'. We never used to actually USE our dining room anyway so why not put up some shelves, store some toys in there and turn it into a temporary play room? It really works out great because we can play with the kids without having to travel ALL the way down to the back of the basement where the other play room is.

Besides, as I've learned from my parents...garages aren't really meant for parking cars, they are meant for storage. Until recently my parents' garage looked like clearance day at the Good Will outlet. I think they've kept every single toy that my brother and I had growing up and are now slowly giving them back to us, one-by-one, every time we visit because they probably just can't bear to throw them away or sell them. Heck, I'll probably do the same thing one day.

Anyway, I do still like to park my car in the garage, in between the dining room table, the beach chairs, the recycling boxes, the bikes, and our old computer monitor which no longer works...so of course I decided to keep it in the garage.

Hey, you never know. I might hook it up to my old PC which no longer works and we'll have a matching set.

So, back to the ball pit. It's flipped over in the garage in my parking spot. This is especially bad because the only way to move it is to lift it up, set the little plastic balls free which are trapped underneath, then flip it right-side-up.

So pick it up as gently as possible. Hey, not too bad. The balls are rolling around all over but it's nothing I can't handle. That is, until they hit the driveway, which I have forgotten is sloped downwards...and several of the little plastic balls are now quickly rolling toward our busy street.

Remember that old Atari game "Missile Command" where you had to stop the rapidly descending missiles before they hit each of your bases? Better yet, remember "Breakout" where you had to use your paddle to hit all of the blocks and keep the ball from getting past you?

I'm now running back and forth across the bottom of our driveway slapping the balls back up into our garage as fast as possible, as though I were a human paddle in a haywire game of "Breakout".

A few of them actually make it JUST to the bottom of the driveway before I manage to get there and slap them back up into the garage, all as the drivers passing by are honking and pointing and laughing.

Yeah, come a little closer. I wonder if I could hit this guy right in his cell phone if I aim it just right...no, better to keep cool.

So, about 5 minutes later, all the balls have been subdued and are safely back in the garage. I started putting them back in the pit, one by one.

Ten minutes later, I'm finally able to pull into my parking spot.

I look around and see that a few neighbors had been watching the fun. Great.

This whole episode reminds me that I used to have a giant, full-sized arcade game version of "Breakout" several years ago. What ever happened to that thing?

Oh, that's right. It's in my parents' garage (I'm dead serious). :-)