Saturday, September 25, 2004
Saturday has become a very important day here in the house for monsa hand. Saturday was the day he smelled another monster at the mall and a tradition was born. 9 am when the doors open, I walk into the mall and stay until noon at which time my wife arrives and takes over the duty.
The duty is to patrol. While I wear a light jacket monsa hand rides on my shoulder near my ear sniffing the air, hoping for all he is worth that he will smell another monsa again. With little whispers of "nope, keep walking" I trawl back and forth giving him the chance to meet another one. By noon I am normally tired so I retreat to the food court and go to my regular booth in the far corner. It is isolated enough that monsa hand can crawl onto the table and, from behind my jacket that I lay on the table, view the people at the other tables.
With drinks and food we sit and talk. Dad and kid stuff until my wife arrives for the evening shift.
It has been over two months since he smelled the other monsa, and almost a month since he saw the little blue monsa "with the pretty green eye". He tries so hard to keep his spirits up, and we support him as best as we can, but time is getting to him and today he said we could skip the mall trip if we wanted.
"Are you OK small fry?"
"I really think there are no other monsa here for me in town." he seemed down when he said this. Well with promises of chocolate and caramel we went to the mall and I am so glad we did.
My soda was empty and since I am cheap I got it at a place that offered free refills. After standing in line for ever I finally returned with a filled soda to the booth when I saw him. He was standing on my jacket. Now this is strange because he normally is very careful about hiding. So there he was, in the open for all to see, and none had yet thankfully, when I saw what he was holding.
His one eye was glittering, and that is the only word that seems appropriate, and clutched in his folded arms was a small piece of Irish-green ribbon.
He looked up at me and whispered "She likes me, she really really likes me" he held up the ribbon for me to see "and she gave me this".
He was just quivering with joy.
The duty is to patrol. While I wear a light jacket monsa hand rides on my shoulder near my ear sniffing the air, hoping for all he is worth that he will smell another monsa again. With little whispers of "nope, keep walking" I trawl back and forth giving him the chance to meet another one. By noon I am normally tired so I retreat to the food court and go to my regular booth in the far corner. It is isolated enough that monsa hand can crawl onto the table and, from behind my jacket that I lay on the table, view the people at the other tables.
With drinks and food we sit and talk. Dad and kid stuff until my wife arrives for the evening shift.
It has been over two months since he smelled the other monsa, and almost a month since he saw the little blue monsa "with the pretty green eye". He tries so hard to keep his spirits up, and we support him as best as we can, but time is getting to him and today he said we could skip the mall trip if we wanted.
"Are you OK small fry?"
"I really think there are no other monsa here for me in town." he seemed down when he said this. Well with promises of chocolate and caramel we went to the mall and I am so glad we did.
My soda was empty and since I am cheap I got it at a place that offered free refills. After standing in line for ever I finally returned with a filled soda to the booth when I saw him. He was standing on my jacket. Now this is strange because he normally is very careful about hiding. So there he was, in the open for all to see, and none had yet thankfully, when I saw what he was holding.
His one eye was glittering, and that is the only word that seems appropriate, and clutched in his folded arms was a small piece of Irish-green ribbon.
He looked up at me and whispered "She likes me, she really really likes me" he held up the ribbon for me to see "and she gave me this".
He was just quivering with joy.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
"He did it again" is normally followed by "I did not" even when he has no idea what he is being accused of. Normal kid.
For instance, take last night. We had just finished dinner and I was really anxious to get a slice of her caramel cake with whipped cream. There is not one single healthy aspect to it, and that's what makes it so good. My wife opened the fridge door (as keeping the cake cold makes it so much better). The second the door opened a small furry blur streaked out of the fridge and headed for the door.
"Stop"!! My wife is learning the advantages of a preemptive command strike.
Monsa hand slowed right at the edge of the door and came to a stop. "Yes?" While the innocence of the "yes" raised the hair on the back of my neck, the fact that he kept his back to us was all the proof I needed that he had done something wrong.
"Don't move an inch buddy" My wife slowly opened the fridge door. She and I knew he had done something, but what was the real question. Inside the fridge the cake was sitting there in all of its glory, with one small problem. All of the caramel seemed to have disappeared.
We turned in unison to monsa hand and I asked the question that I knew the answer to but it was one that still needed answering. "Monsa. Do you know where all of the caramel is?" As I said this I could see him tense about to leap for the door.
"Monsa? I need an honest answer. Did you eat the caramel?" The second I said that he relaxed, turned and looked at me. I now knew why he had kept his back to us. His face was covered from ear to ear in caramel and whipped cream.
"I did it." I was surprised by this confession. Normally he would be covered head to toe(pads?) in food and still deny that he knew anything.
At this point my dear wife piped in "Well you just told us the truth and I like that. So for now no punishment. But if you ever do it again full punishment and Biggy gets all of your white chocolate. Since I am biggy I was happy, but I was more impressed with that little guy. Maybe he is getting more mature, maybe he is finally growing up. Maybe he is scamming us with fake sincerity.
Now I'll really have to keep an eye on him.
But I still feel like a proud father.
For instance, take last night. We had just finished dinner and I was really anxious to get a slice of her caramel cake with whipped cream. There is not one single healthy aspect to it, and that's what makes it so good. My wife opened the fridge door (as keeping the cake cold makes it so much better). The second the door opened a small furry blur streaked out of the fridge and headed for the door.
"Stop"!! My wife is learning the advantages of a preemptive command strike.
Monsa hand slowed right at the edge of the door and came to a stop. "Yes?" While the innocence of the "yes" raised the hair on the back of my neck, the fact that he kept his back to us was all the proof I needed that he had done something wrong.
"Don't move an inch buddy" My wife slowly opened the fridge door. She and I knew he had done something, but what was the real question. Inside the fridge the cake was sitting there in all of its glory, with one small problem. All of the caramel seemed to have disappeared.
We turned in unison to monsa hand and I asked the question that I knew the answer to but it was one that still needed answering. "Monsa. Do you know where all of the caramel is?" As I said this I could see him tense about to leap for the door.
"Monsa? I need an honest answer. Did you eat the caramel?" The second I said that he relaxed, turned and looked at me. I now knew why he had kept his back to us. His face was covered from ear to ear in caramel and whipped cream.
"I did it." I was surprised by this confession. Normally he would be covered head to toe(pads?) in food and still deny that he knew anything.
At this point my dear wife piped in "Well you just told us the truth and I like that. So for now no punishment. But if you ever do it again full punishment and Biggy gets all of your white chocolate. Since I am biggy I was happy, but I was more impressed with that little guy. Maybe he is getting more mature, maybe he is finally growing up. Maybe he is scamming us with fake sincerity.
Now I'll really have to keep an eye on him.
But I still feel like a proud father.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Found pinned to the wall of monsa hands nest
Monday, September 13, 2004
Rule #3
Well, I have grounded Gunner. I have also set another rule into place.
Rule #3
If Gunner says anything that worries/upsets/frightens you, ask Elizabeth (Me).
Gunner, as much as I love him, has a soul full of mischief. And periodically it gets ahead of his good sense (such as it is).
I came home yesterday and suggested that we have Mexican for dinner. I had been craving chimichangas for a while and it just sounded really good for dinner. I did not expect the response I got from Monsa.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAgh!!!!!!!!!!!
"I don't wanna eat Mexicans. I don't wanna eat Mexicans."
And he went running toward the stairs to the basement.
I finally ran him down in his basement nest and asked him what was wrong. He said that Gunner had told him that the reason that different kinds of foods were called "Mexican" or "Chinese" or whatever was because they were used in the various dishes.
You have to understand that Gunner sometimes has a really perverse sense of humor. They had been watching some cooking show, and Monsa had not understood what some of the ingredients were that were going into the dishes. Mostly spices and things I think and that was when he told him what he did. I am sure that he thought Monsa would not take him seriously and would recognize it as a joke, but he had not. And Gunner had not corrected the misunderstanding.
Therefore, Gunner is grounded. He has surrendered all of his chocolate to Monsa. Monsa and I have gone to dinner for spaghetti (I can get a sampler plate and if I sit in a booth he is shielded from view and can have his own bit) and then a visit to a local chocolate makers outlet (he loves this place).
Gunner is cleaning the bathroom ... thoroughly. He will then clean the kitchen, finish the laundry, vacuum the living room, and dust (he hates to dust).
I hope he has a good time, I know we will.
Well, I have grounded Gunner. I have also set another rule into place.
Rule #3
If Gunner says anything that worries/upsets/frightens you, ask Elizabeth (Me).
Gunner, as much as I love him, has a soul full of mischief. And periodically it gets ahead of his good sense (such as it is).
I came home yesterday and suggested that we have Mexican for dinner. I had been craving chimichangas for a while and it just sounded really good for dinner. I did not expect the response I got from Monsa.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAgh!!!!!!!!!!!
"I don't wanna eat Mexicans. I don't wanna eat Mexicans."
And he went running toward the stairs to the basement.
I finally ran him down in his basement nest and asked him what was wrong. He said that Gunner had told him that the reason that different kinds of foods were called "Mexican" or "Chinese" or whatever was because they were used in the various dishes.
You have to understand that Gunner sometimes has a really perverse sense of humor. They had been watching some cooking show, and Monsa had not understood what some of the ingredients were that were going into the dishes. Mostly spices and things I think and that was when he told him what he did. I am sure that he thought Monsa would not take him seriously and would recognize it as a joke, but he had not. And Gunner had not corrected the misunderstanding.
Therefore, Gunner is grounded. He has surrendered all of his chocolate to Monsa. Monsa and I have gone to dinner for spaghetti (I can get a sampler plate and if I sit in a booth he is shielded from view and can have his own bit) and then a visit to a local chocolate makers outlet (he loves this place).
Gunner is cleaning the bathroom ... thoroughly. He will then clean the kitchen, finish the laundry, vacuum the living room, and dust (he hates to dust).
I hope he has a good time, I know we will.
