It was a momentous night for us here in Tarkland. Jack cracked his first off-the-cuff, non-coached joke. (It was brilliant, and corny as hell...literally.)
We were eating dinner when Jack accidentally dropped his cob of corn on the floor.
Stanley immediately rushed to the rescue.
"My cor-in!" screamed Jack.
Dan was able to assuage him with promises of another cob, and Jack calmed down and turned to watch Stanley nibbling away on the rogue cob.
"Stanley!" he said, "You are a real corn dog!"
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mama's Night Out
I periodically get together with a few of my old co-workers (and by "old" I mean me; they are 28) and we have dinner and drinks at our favorite Mexican place. I look forward to these evenings, because they don't occur often (it takes a lot of planning), and they are invariably hilarious.
Last night did not disappoint, and as I arrived home, full of enchiladas and bonhomie, I realized that I had missed a SCENE here. Instantly I was excited; both to have avoided the SCENE and also to hear Dan's recounting of said SCENE (he is a very animated storyteller).
Apparently, things got a little out of control after I departed. My aunt and uncle had stopped by to visit, and Jack, like a shark sensing that his weaker prey (Dan) had become preoccupied, had decided to go in for the figurative kill...and jump ship. Evidently he snuck outside while the uncle was on his cell phone on the front porch; Dan assumed that uncle was watching Jack, and uncle assumed that Dan had given Jack permission to flee the vicinity...which he did with great speed for someone who is usually SO SLOW TO FOLLOW DIRECTIONS.
After awhile Dan noticed that the uncle was back inside but Jack was not, so he inquired as to Jack's whereabouts. The uncle, looking confused, said, "Oh, he left...didn't you know?" The uncle leans over to peer out of a window. "Yeah, see? There he goes."
Dan runs to the window to see Jack entering our neighbor's house.
According to our neighbor, Jack had apparently strolled over, noticed a package on their porch, rang the doorbell and offered the package, and barged right in as if he were invited. This awesome neighbor, who is himself saddled with two kids while his wife is traveling for work, graciously (and unquestioningly) accepted Jack's self-invite and, until Dan's arrival, had been waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. (He is a more seasoned, and therefor much wiser parent than the two idiots that live here.)
Eventually Jack was successfully extracted and returned home, and promptly pajama-ed. I got here just in time to tell him goodnight and then hear this wonderful story. It was like icing on my cake.
Last night did not disappoint, and as I arrived home, full of enchiladas and bonhomie, I realized that I had missed a SCENE here. Instantly I was excited; both to have avoided the SCENE and also to hear Dan's recounting of said SCENE (he is a very animated storyteller).
Apparently, things got a little out of control after I departed. My aunt and uncle had stopped by to visit, and Jack, like a shark sensing that his weaker prey (Dan) had become preoccupied, had decided to go in for the figurative kill...and jump ship. Evidently he snuck outside while the uncle was on his cell phone on the front porch; Dan assumed that uncle was watching Jack, and uncle assumed that Dan had given Jack permission to flee the vicinity...which he did with great speed for someone who is usually SO SLOW TO FOLLOW DIRECTIONS.
After awhile Dan noticed that the uncle was back inside but Jack was not, so he inquired as to Jack's whereabouts. The uncle, looking confused, said, "Oh, he left...didn't you know?" The uncle leans over to peer out of a window. "Yeah, see? There he goes."
Dan runs to the window to see Jack entering our neighbor's house.
According to our neighbor, Jack had apparently strolled over, noticed a package on their porch, rang the doorbell and offered the package, and barged right in as if he were invited. This awesome neighbor, who is himself saddled with two kids while his wife is traveling for work, graciously (and unquestioningly) accepted Jack's self-invite and, until Dan's arrival, had been waiting patiently for the other shoe to drop. (He is a more seasoned, and therefor much wiser parent than the two idiots that live here.)
Eventually Jack was successfully extracted and returned home, and promptly pajama-ed. I got here just in time to tell him goodnight and then hear this wonderful story. It was like icing on my cake.
Overheard
Jack: Daddy, can I go outside and play?
Dan: No, we're going to sit down for dinner soon.
Jack: But I want to feel the gentle breeze on my face!!
Dan: No, we're going to sit down for dinner soon.
Jack: But I want to feel the gentle breeze on my face!!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Motion in the Ocean
Jack has a very distinct walk. In fact, calling it a walk is a little misleading, because out of all of the ways that he propels his Pinocchio-like body forward, hardly any of them constitute what one normally considers a "walk." In fact, when you first see Jack approaching, you would probably think: "Oooh, a very strange child is coming towards me." And you'd be right.
Ever since he began walking, at 11 months, he was a tip-toer. He gamboled around on the tips of his feet until around 2 when he finally began to engage a gear other than Weird. Now he lopes, he scoots, he bounces, he twirls, but he rarely ever just walks. This is adorable until you really need to go somewhere, OR you are in public trying to avoid stares. (As you can guess, the latter is an impossibility for any member of this family--unless they are in a room full of deaf and blind folks.)
Jack is starting T-Ball in a few weeks, and I've been trying to coach him on running. When Jack tries to run he looks like a large, white tumbleweed being blown by a haphazard wind. I made the mistake of explaining, as my soccer coach did, the idea of "cheek-to-cheek" running. The words had barely escaped my lips when I realized what a fatal error I had made. Jack was rapidly tapping both of his cheeks (the face ones) and bouncing in place. As I tried to explain that you also have cheeks on your rear, Jack insisted on seeing them.
"You know what they look like," I told him. "There's a crack between them!"
"CRACK!" he squealed. "I need to check this out."
So inside we went, to use the bathroom mirror so that I could demonstrate to Jack that he did indeed have two separate "cheeks" on his backside.
Eager to get him back outside lest this anatomy lesson stray to darker subjects, I carried him through the house, explaining on the way that if you pumped your arms, moving one hand from your face cheek to your rear cheek, as you ran, you could go faster.
Now picture in your mind a large-headed, very verbal young boy trying to implement my directions of cheek-to-cheek running. Got it? I guarantee you what I witnessed was 53x funnier than that. Needless to say we didn't actually get to any running at all, but we did achieve our signature fail-laugh, which is what I'm usually after anyway.
Ever since he began walking, at 11 months, he was a tip-toer. He gamboled around on the tips of his feet until around 2 when he finally began to engage a gear other than Weird. Now he lopes, he scoots, he bounces, he twirls, but he rarely ever just walks. This is adorable until you really need to go somewhere, OR you are in public trying to avoid stares. (As you can guess, the latter is an impossibility for any member of this family--unless they are in a room full of deaf and blind folks.)
Jack is starting T-Ball in a few weeks, and I've been trying to coach him on running. When Jack tries to run he looks like a large, white tumbleweed being blown by a haphazard wind. I made the mistake of explaining, as my soccer coach did, the idea of "cheek-to-cheek" running. The words had barely escaped my lips when I realized what a fatal error I had made. Jack was rapidly tapping both of his cheeks (the face ones) and bouncing in place. As I tried to explain that you also have cheeks on your rear, Jack insisted on seeing them.
"You know what they look like," I told him. "There's a crack between them!"
"CRACK!" he squealed. "I need to check this out."
So inside we went, to use the bathroom mirror so that I could demonstrate to Jack that he did indeed have two separate "cheeks" on his backside.
Eager to get him back outside lest this anatomy lesson stray to darker subjects, I carried him through the house, explaining on the way that if you pumped your arms, moving one hand from your face cheek to your rear cheek, as you ran, you could go faster.
Now picture in your mind a large-headed, very verbal young boy trying to implement my directions of cheek-to-cheek running. Got it? I guarantee you what I witnessed was 53x funnier than that. Needless to say we didn't actually get to any running at all, but we did achieve our signature fail-laugh, which is what I'm usually after anyway.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Days of Our Lives
Jack was following me around my room last night as I cleaned up. I was putting folded laundry away and I wasn't paying attention to his poking through my drawers, as this is something that he does regularly. We call it "taking inventory."
[This phrase was coined by my father's mother when, as a small child, I would arrive at her house, shove by her in the doorway, and immediately begin inspecting all of her closets. What can I say, nosiness manifests itself strongly (and early) in our breed.]
Anyway, as Jack is usually looking through something, I didn't really pay that much attention. I heard a sharp gasp and I turned to see what was going on.
"WHAT is this!?" Jack asked, holding up a Cadbury Cream Egg, still it it's foil wrapper. (I had kept two for myself out of the MOUNTAIN of Easter candy he had received, and squirreled them away in my nightstand.)
"They're not yours, don't touch them." (My usual refrain.)
"WHOSE ARE THEY?" (His usual ignoring of my usual refrain.)
"Those are my candies from Easter." I told him, innocently.
"You've had them here this whole time?!?" he asked incredulously, gesturing to the drawer.
"Yes...Drama, I was saving them."
"I didn't know that!! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME EVERYTHING!" he screamed, and ran away.
[This phrase was coined by my father's mother when, as a small child, I would arrive at her house, shove by her in the doorway, and immediately begin inspecting all of her closets. What can I say, nosiness manifests itself strongly (and early) in our breed.]
Anyway, as Jack is usually looking through something, I didn't really pay that much attention. I heard a sharp gasp and I turned to see what was going on.
"WHAT is this!?" Jack asked, holding up a Cadbury Cream Egg, still it it's foil wrapper. (I had kept two for myself out of the MOUNTAIN of Easter candy he had received, and squirreled them away in my nightstand.)
"They're not yours, don't touch them." (My usual refrain.)
"WHOSE ARE THEY?" (His usual ignoring of my usual refrain.)
"Those are my candies from Easter." I told him, innocently.
"You've had them here this whole time?!?" he asked incredulously, gesturing to the drawer.
"Yes...Drama, I was saving them."
"I didn't know that!! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME EVERYTHING!" he screamed, and ran away.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Best Movie Ever
Jack is currently fascinated with the movie, The Iron Giant. This is a nice change from the endless Scooby Doo and the (insert ridiculous scenario here) movies that he is so fond of. The best part about The Iron Giant is the way that Jack pronounces iron; he says "eye-rin." When he asks if we can watch it I usually feign deafness and ask him to repeat himself several times. It is hilarious.
On a serious note, for a kids movie, it is a great one.
Still serious: I watched it before I had kids, I admit it.
Even more serious: I MAY have cried a tiny bit at the end the first time.
Dead: OK I cry every time.
On a serious note, for a kids movie, it is a great one.
Still serious: I watched it before I had kids, I admit it.
Even more serious: I MAY have cried a tiny bit at the end the first time.
Dead: OK I cry every time.
Overheard
[Scene: At the dinner table. Everyone's plate is empty, except for Jack's, which looks like a war zone.]
Me: Jack, you need to finish those beans before you get down.
Jack: They're too chewy.
Me: Use your teeth, that's what they're for.
Jack (laughing and slapping his knee): You old beaver!
Me: Jack, you need to finish those beans before you get down.
Jack: They're too chewy.
Me: Use your teeth, that's what they're for.
Jack (laughing and slapping his knee): You old beaver!
Saturday, April 10, 2010
What did the five fingers say to the face?
My sister has been watching Sydney during the day so that I can get the monumental task of getting back to work... started.
This week she was sitting in the family room with the baby facing her on her lap while I cleaned up the kitchen. They were having a goo-goo-ga-ga type of conversation when I heard a distinct, loud slap. Silence.
I walked around to view them, both sitting there looking rather stunned.
"What was that?!" I asked.
"The baby...she just...SLAPPED me!" my sister exclaimed.
Sydney turned to look into my eyes, and then smiled.
"Yo go girl!" I told her.
This week she was sitting in the family room with the baby facing her on her lap while I cleaned up the kitchen. They were having a goo-goo-ga-ga type of conversation when I heard a distinct, loud slap. Silence.
I walked around to view them, both sitting there looking rather stunned.
"What was that?!" I asked.
"The baby...she just...SLAPPED me!" my sister exclaimed.
Sydney turned to look into my eyes, and then smiled.
"Yo go girl!" I told her.
A Day in the Life...
of Sydney.
6:30am: Hey! I'm still alive! And I haven't eaten anything in HOURS! Or perhaps YEARS! I'm so happy that I am alive and able to EAT! MOMMY!
10am: Ohh, warm cereal. This stuff is great! I like to spit it. I like to gobble it up like a hungry turkey. Sometimes I pretend that I am a growling, predatory fish snapping up bites of helpless smelts.
11am: Whaaa? Zzzzzz.
noon: Hey! I'm alive again! And I pooped!
1pm: Watch me roll Ma! Watch me roll! Oh, you aren't watching? Listen to me say "Dada" over and over and over again...got your attention now?
3pm: Whaaa? Zzzzzz.
4pm: Hey! I'm alive again! Let's bounce! No seriously, put me in the bouncy seat. Don't make me slap you.
5pm: I will eat all of these vegetables. Got any prunes? Throw some prunes on here.
6:30pm: I'm feeling a little funny. Please give me zerbits to resuscitate me. They aren't working. FINE THEN. Put me down.
7:30pm: Whaa? Zzzzzz.
2am: Sleep jabbering. Just checking to make sure that you're listening.
6:30am: Hey! I'm still alive! And I haven't eaten anything in HOURS! Or perhaps YEARS! I'm so happy that I am alive and able to EAT! MOMMY!
10am: Ohh, warm cereal. This stuff is great! I like to spit it. I like to gobble it up like a hungry turkey. Sometimes I pretend that I am a growling, predatory fish snapping up bites of helpless smelts.
11am: Whaaa? Zzzzzz.
noon: Hey! I'm alive again! And I pooped!
1pm: Watch me roll Ma! Watch me roll! Oh, you aren't watching? Listen to me say "Dada" over and over and over again...got your attention now?
3pm: Whaaa? Zzzzzz.
4pm: Hey! I'm alive again! Let's bounce! No seriously, put me in the bouncy seat. Don't make me slap you.
5pm: I will eat all of these vegetables. Got any prunes? Throw some prunes on here.
6:30pm: I'm feeling a little funny. Please give me zerbits to resuscitate me. They aren't working. FINE THEN. Put me down.
7:30pm: Whaa? Zzzzzz.
2am: Sleep jabbering. Just checking to make sure that you're listening.
More Lessons from a Horrible Mother
This seems to be a continuing trend: My inability to NOT laugh at children.
At a birthday party this afternoon, at a nearby park, I watched as Jack and his best friend, Jason, terrorized the airwaves. They are an adorable pair--Jason being a compact, impressively speedy, dark little bullet of a child, and Jack, the complete opposite, tall, gangly, PASTY, toe-running, monkey-like and did I say PASTY?
These two adorable morons are seriously in love, and I couldn't decide whether to tear up or choke back laughter for most of the afternoon. They stood, at the top of separate play structures, on opposite sides of the park having a conversation. Now, in order to have a conversation across a park that is crammed full of approximately 200 other screaming children, you really have to ratchet up the volume. Which these two did.
"JACK TARKENTON! WHERE ARE YOU?" screamed Jason.
"JASON, I'M RIGHT HEEEEERE!" Jack screamed.
"WHY ARE YOU UP THERE?!?" screamed Jason.
"I'M THE KING OF THE MOUNTAIN!" Jack screamed back.
And this went on and on. According to Jason, besides being King of the Mountain, Jack was also a poopy butt.
"WE DON'T SAY BUTT!" screamed Jack.
"I'M GOING TO CRUSH YOU!" Jason screamed back.
Good luck with that one, I thought. Jason's mother, a lovely woman, was soon forced to chase Jason underneath one of the play structures after his language became a little too PG-13 for the playground. Jason, angered by the censure, huddled underneath a platform where she could not possibly reach him and screeched unintelligible, but clearly angry, words at her. And this is the point where I went from being her ally to her enemy. I laughed.
I KNOW. I know that you're not supposed to laugh. But he was so hilarious, squatting and peeking out from his shaded hide-out like a teeny little hobo, clutching his knees and so utterly infuriated that he had to INVENT words to convey the enormity of his feelings. It was adorable. She gave up eventually and came back over to sit with me.
"He does this all of the time," she sighed.
"I know, boys are terrible with all of the...RAGE."
"Yeah," she said. "Girls are way easier at this age."
SCORE! I said to myself.
I regaled her with stories of Jack's latest fits to make her feel better, and then we both indulged ourselves by laughing at the kids who were throwing sand at their mothers in the sandbox in front of us.
At a birthday party this afternoon, at a nearby park, I watched as Jack and his best friend, Jason, terrorized the airwaves. They are an adorable pair--Jason being a compact, impressively speedy, dark little bullet of a child, and Jack, the complete opposite, tall, gangly, PASTY, toe-running, monkey-like and did I say PASTY?
These two adorable morons are seriously in love, and I couldn't decide whether to tear up or choke back laughter for most of the afternoon. They stood, at the top of separate play structures, on opposite sides of the park having a conversation. Now, in order to have a conversation across a park that is crammed full of approximately 200 other screaming children, you really have to ratchet up the volume. Which these two did.
"JACK TARKENTON! WHERE ARE YOU?" screamed Jason.
"JASON, I'M RIGHT HEEEEERE!" Jack screamed.
"WHY ARE YOU UP THERE?!?" screamed Jason.
"I'M THE KING OF THE MOUNTAIN!" Jack screamed back.
And this went on and on. According to Jason, besides being King of the Mountain, Jack was also a poopy butt.
"WE DON'T SAY BUTT!" screamed Jack.
"I'M GOING TO CRUSH YOU!" Jason screamed back.
Good luck with that one, I thought. Jason's mother, a lovely woman, was soon forced to chase Jason underneath one of the play structures after his language became a little too PG-13 for the playground. Jason, angered by the censure, huddled underneath a platform where she could not possibly reach him and screeched unintelligible, but clearly angry, words at her. And this is the point where I went from being her ally to her enemy. I laughed.
I KNOW. I know that you're not supposed to laugh. But he was so hilarious, squatting and peeking out from his shaded hide-out like a teeny little hobo, clutching his knees and so utterly infuriated that he had to INVENT words to convey the enormity of his feelings. It was adorable. She gave up eventually and came back over to sit with me.
"He does this all of the time," she sighed.
"I know, boys are terrible with all of the...RAGE."
"Yeah," she said. "Girls are way easier at this age."
SCORE! I said to myself.
I regaled her with stories of Jack's latest fits to make her feel better, and then we both indulged ourselves by laughing at the kids who were throwing sand at their mothers in the sandbox in front of us.
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