Another typical example of Scott repeating things…
Door bell: “Ding dong!”
Charlie: “Scotty! There’s a ding-dong at the door!”
Scott: “There’s a ding-dong at the door! THERE’S A DING-DONG AT THE DOOR!! SQUEAL!!!”
I love my son.
Browsing Posts published in November, 2008
On election day we got up early, bundled the whole crew into the car, and drove a mile to the polling place. We got there soon after it opened and were there for a little over half an hour. It was the biggest turnout I’ve ever seen, but the line moved quickly.
Along the way I explained our patriotic duty so Scott would understand what was happening: We look at a list of names. We decide which of the people named is least likely to destroy the country. Then we grudgingly draw lines next to those names. Later in the day fancy machines sort through all those papers and announce who is the BIGGEST TURKEY OF ALL.
Of course I turned out to be right. Electing turkeys is such a time-honored American tradition that it’s hard to get on the ballot otherwise.
Another ancient tradition is for fathers to say embarrassingly repeatable things to their sons. From heeding my own father’s wisdom, I now know at what approximate temperature the balls freeze off a pool table. Now it’s my turn to inspire little boys. Scott repeats almost everything I say, although he’s been quiet about turkeys. Maybe he wasn’t quite awake enough at the time.
Soon after election day we sold soap at a rural craft fair. We made about $10 less than last year. What terrible economic conditions! The sky is falling!
Okay, so the total revenue at this craft fair for both years was low enough to make $10 a statistically noticeable amount. But this was after a modest price increase, and on a day when we were half asleep and juggling children. And we were a little out of practice. I think we did pretty well. We’ll see how the next two fairs go.
A few other sellers at the fair complained about not selling anything. But honestly, I don’t recall seeing much that I wanted to buy. There’s a lesson in this somewhere. Maybe Detroit should be taking notes.
Blake’s second tooth is coming in. Just in time for Thanksgiving! That boy loves to eat. I think he gets it from my side of the family. He also loves to laugh. Every day is a joke, and he knows the punch line. We need more of that spirit in the world.
In late December I’m going to have my eyes examined as a possible candidate for phakic intraocular lenses. Sort of like permanently implanted contact lenses.
My eyes are too nearsighted for LASIK. Rigid gas permeable contacts change the shape of various parts of the eye, which could mess up the measurements taken during the exam. So I have to keep them out for six weeks — starting today.
