Fish

The first time I have ever been happy to see a state fish and game officer happened this weekend.  Normally, I consider them akin to sucker fish-- slimy bottom dwelling muck feeders.  But, during our fishing trip to Raccoon State Park, and after having zero luck with the fish that morning, the fully-uniformed officers showed up with a tanker truck full of rainbow trout.  Their purpose was to restock the lake.  With the fish came some rather sketchy looking boy scouts to help.  We got in on the action, too.

We helped transport 2,000 of these suckers from the truck to the lake using nothing more than 5 gallon buckets.  With all the taxes we pay here, you'd think they'd have something more technologically advanced then a gang of boy scouts and some old paint cans to do the work... maybe a trout cannon or something.

Most of the fish made it to the water without incident.  Some got dropped a few times, stepped on, etc, all to the chagrin of the game warden (note the trout next to the bucket in the photo... I had to lob him into the pond from 10 yards in one of my better Tim Tebow impersonations).  Ethan's brilliant idea was to throw them in right at our fishing pole site, the baited hooks of which were still in the water.  Good idea, but we didn't catch any.  The boy scouts petered out after a few runs from the truck to the lake, but we kept up the pace rather well.

Although mom sent us with some food, we decided to dine on a more well-balanced lunch of cinnamon rolls.  Thankfully, I'm still free and able to legally fish, after my crack at the game warden on his holstered gun ("Are you afraid someone is going to steel a trout or something?").  I also told him that if they'd let us shoot those stinking blue herons, they wouldn't need to stock the lake so often.  Like a sentry at Buckingham Palace, the guy had no sense of humor.  I'm probably blacklisted, though.

A Christmas Program - Again

For the fourth or fifth time-- to be honest, I lose track-- I survived another Christmas program brought to us exclusively by our local elementary school.  This year, Preston was forced under extreme duress to don an elf costume and sing songs in front of a lunchroom full of complete strangers-- other than me, his mom, and his little sister, of course.

Singing wasn't the only thing they had to do, either.  They also had to do the actions.  Who wouldn't be embarrassed by that?

For almost an hour, we all endured song after song of a hundred asynchronous kindergartners.  Poor Preston.  He was clearly not enjoying it.  Our dis-enjoyment came in the days preceding his play, actually.  We (and when I say "we", I mean Michelle) had to find an elf costume for him per directions from his teacher.  Target, Wal-Mart... nothing.  Apparently, elf costumes for 5 year-olds are not popular retail items to carry around Christmas time.

I can relate to Preston's Christmas woe.  I remember mom dressing me up in a white shirt with a foofy red scarf thing tied in a bow around my neck while I stood in front of dozens of strangers at the Festival of Trees at the Best Western Burley Inn to sing various Christmas songs.  I hated it, and proof is from my picture:

Yes, that is me at the top left-- closest to the door, hoping that someone on the other side of the stage would fall off or do something to embarrass themselves (more so than simply wearing the costume) so I could bee-line it for the exit.  Me, looking like a Lawrence Welk contestant, all for the entertainment of the blabbering parents and grandparents that watched.  Each kid has the same look on his/her face, and that kid in the center-- wherever you are-- I hope your obvious expression of helplessness in this photo didn't ruin your life completely.  Thankfully, YouTube did not exist at that time, else I'd have to become a monk and live in hiding for the rest of my life.

For what seemed like hours, I had to pretend I was happy it was Christmas time.  I apologize to those who may find themselves in this picture, too.  You, just like me, are victims of this horrible torture.

Preston, center

Note: Mom, I still carry deep scars from this experience, and it is the sole reason I never pursued a career as a singer.  And, it took me years to be sure of my gender after this ordeal.  Look at me... all I needed was the tu-tu and I could have been easily mistaken for a wandering member of the local ballet club.

And thus, Preston had to pay his youthful dues, too, I suppose.  The "ooh's" and "aahh's" from the crowd is evidence enough that these performances are not meant for the common kid.  They are meant for the dawdling parents.  I caught him looking in our direction with that unspoken, "Get me the &!$# out of here" look.  The kids rush to the doors after the final song was over was like a rush to the life boats of a sinking ship.

His after-the-show performance was a bit more enjoyable to him.  We got to see his classroom and his art project, which he proudly shows off below.

Sadly, the experience didn't end for him that day.  The next day, he had to show up to school in the same garb.  The school had arranged for them to travel via bus to one of the local retirement homes to sing to the residents.  A hundred kids and a dozen residents... my bet is that neither set really wanted to be there.  But, when a person lives in those age groups-- less than 6, and greater than 90-- what you do and where you go is decided by others.  You just have to play along.

My hope is that Santa saw his good sport attitude and, despite unease, played his part twice this week.  Maybe he'll get some extra brownie points come Christmas Day.

In case you want to watch part of his performance, watch the clip below...

School Photos

I believe we have the cutest kids around.  Sorry, y'all.  Its true.  Below are Ethan and Preston's school photos.  We are still waiting on Chrissa's.

3rd Grade

Kindergarten

Young Einsteins

Michelle and I keep telling ourselves that we were blessed with brilliant and obedient children.  As you can see below, we usually get the same reaction from our boys no matter what is asked of them.  Now, we can interpret this in one of two ways.  First, we can interpret these expressions as proof that our kids' intellect is so advanced that our questions to them are obvious-- and a waste of their time to even consider, OR we can interpret these as proof that our kids need to start wearing beanie hats with a chin strap when they ride the bus to school, dimly aware of their own existence.  

We just can't figure it out yet...

Never Trust Your 5-Year-Old With A Secret

It was time for the dentist yesterday when we ran squarely into Preston's stubbornness.  He was NOT going to go.  He had a small cavity that needed to be filled, but he insisted on staying home.

I pulled a suggestion from my "How To Be An Awesome Dad" handbook-- bribery.  So, I took him aside to tell him that if he chooses to go, I'll make sure that one of Ethan's upcoming birthday presents is opened early this year (his b-day is on Dec 1st), just in time for Thanksgiving.  The gift: Phineas and Ferb: Across the Second Dimension (the Wii game).  These two runts have been bugging us for months to purchase this for them.  We caved.

But, to date, its been in a bag downstairs in the basement, waiting for his birthday to arrive.

Upon telling Preston of this plan, he relented and went to the dentist.  When he got home, he insisted on seeing the game.  So, I showed it to him.

Me: "Now, you cannot tell your brother... it'll be our secret, OK?  Just wait 2 days!"
Preston: "OK, dad."

Roughly an hour later, Ethan comes up to me to say, "So, did you buy me that Phineas and Ferb game?"  I said, "No" (this was a must-lie situation).  Preston, fearing I was lying to him, came up to us and said, "But, dad, you said you bought one."

The gig was up.  Ethan was on to us.

Ethan: "So, you DID buy the Phineas and Ferb game, didn't you!"
Preston: "Crap, dad, he knows!"
Dad: "Uh, no."
Ethan: "Preston?  Did he buy it?"
Preston: "Umm...."

Moral of the story: don't trust your kindergartner to hold a secret for very long.  I guess when you raise them to be honest, its hard for them to purposely be deceitful when the time calls for it.

I mean, how hard is it to lie?  It isn't that hard.  Clearly, I need to do a better job at raising these boys to be men.

Diversity Day, Amish Fraud, and a Deceitful Zoo

It was a whirlwind day today.  I learned that the weather today was supposed to be good, so a couple days ago, I announced plans to visit the Pittsburgh Zoo.  My hope was that it would be a family activity, but only half of the family showed up.

Starting at roughly 10AM today, I took Ethan, Preston, and Amberlee to Soergel's Orchard in Wexford (http://www.soergels.com/).  Chrissa was not going to go to the zoo (how childish), and Michelle wanted some time away from the kids.  But, in the 3 years I've been here, I've never stopped by the orchard.  Michelle and the kids have, though.  Our mission: to find the perfect pumpkins that we could carve up, chop up, mark up, etc, and leave out on our step until they became a moldy mess.  We were able to find just the right ones, but it took real will-power to resist the fresh apple cider, apple cider donuts, apple cider funnel cakes, apple cider this, apple cider that... not to mention the BBQ, hot dogs, and other delectable grub.

From the orchard, we took off to the zoo, only to find out that, as we entered the parking lot, all the kids were in Halloween costumes.  Ugh... my well laid plans were suddenly at the mercy of a bunch of kids dressed as Super Heroes.  Reason: Ethan never goes to things out-of-place, and as if on cue, he began to pout that HE was not dressed up, too.  And, to make it worse, they all had trick-or-treat bags ready to be filled.

Yep, it was ZooBoo Day at the Pittsburgh zoo, and my kids arrived without a costume.  Clearly, I had missed the memo.

But, we entered anyway, thankful to the zoo employees handing out free bags to the kids (and parents) dopey enough to miss the notification of the zoo's biggest day of the fall.  Oops.

We grow 'em big in PA... this monster was 1250 lbs.

Before we went in, though, I had a small run-in with the ticket lady.  Last season, we purchased season passes, which came with 4 free "guest passes" that could be used at any time... or so we were told.  I presented them to the ticket lady, which she promptly took, and then proceeded to tell me that the zoo was no longer honoring them.  Eh... what?  We exchanged words... mine mostly dealt with the personal belief that the zoo took us for a ride to get us to buy last season's passes, only to NOT honor the free passes that came with the deal.  I didn't know what her responses were... didn't really listen or care.  Secondly, she asked the age of all the kids.  I said: Ethan is 8, Preston is 5, and Ambie is 2.

Her: "Is she 24 months or older?"
Me:  "What do you mean?"
Her: "If she is older than 24 months, she gets charged the kid prices ($12!)."
Me: "She's 2."
Her: "I need to know if she's 24 months old or older, sir."
Me: "She is 2, and that is all you are going to get.  If you are now starting to ask for how many MONTHS our kids are, maybe we'll just go to the museum next time.  They don't ask there."
Her: "Alright... one adult, 2 kids... have a nice day."

And so, we went in.  Hey, I figured if I got screwed out of the free passes, they can get screwed out of one of the not-free passes.  Not an Even-Steven situation, but I felt better afterwards.

The zoo was your typical place of relative diversity... all kinds of species, both native and exotic, some scary and gross, some that should stay burrowed in their homes, some that looked like they'd be dragged through the dirt, others that looked like they'd been pampered since birth.  And, the animals were fun to look at, too.

Either gorillas, or a photo of a typical Pittsburgh street curb. 

But, a couple weeks back, Ethan decided to enter a school contest (these contests are really ruining my home life... see prior blogs on the kitchen contest) where he'd enter an exhibit that he put together that shows others what diversity means to him.  My sneaking suspicion is that "diversity" in this context means diversity of people.  I'm tired of that.  So, I "encouraged" him to focus on the diversity of animal life while at the zoo.  He took photos of animals... some out of focus, some blinded by the flash, some with half their bodies out of the picture.  We did get some good photos, though.

Not to be outdone by our counterparts in the other categories of our animal kingdom, the people visiting the zoo were hysterical, too.  And, weird.  Example: we watched the polar bear play with a large blue plastic barrel while swimming in his pool.  He was having a great time.  The lady behind me, however, was seeing something totally different than I was.  Being the good, tree-hugging mom that she was, she told her daughter, who was probably 5 years old: "Look!  The polar bear has learned how to recycle!"  Isn't that nice?  The mere act of playing with a discarded barrel shows that even at an elementary level of animal phyla, we can all still learn the valuable, Earth-saving lessons of post-consumer reclamation.  How nice.  And, to think that I thought the bear was just playing with a piece of garbage...

The Recycling Bear, apparently...

Also, Preston, on our way out, said that his favorite animal was the chicken.  Huh?  I told him that there were no chickens in the zoo.  "Yes sir, dad... it was the chicken that we could shoot for Thanksgiving."  Ah, it was the TURKEY.  But... did I really pay $35 to get these kids in for the purpose of seeing their favorite animal: the elusive wild turkey?  They only run wild through Pennsylvania in flocks... drive enough, and you'll likely run one over.

Thought this was a good pic of the boys in the polar bear exhibit, till I noticed the girl in red on the right.
What's she pickin'?

And so, the day of diversity was done.  Almost.  The last note of fun was the Amish family that was entering the zoo just as we were leaving.  Being late in the day, their horse must have gotten tired on the trip, causing their tardiness.  Regardless, however, they were there... the kids without shoes, the men in straw hats, the women in their traditional blue and black full length dresses.  Clearly, they were not orthodox, though... simply being at the zoo seemed to tell me that they weren't as isolated from the world as traditional Amish tend to be.  But, as we were leaving, proof of an Amish conspiracy made itself plainly clear to me.  Old Man Amish, who had to be the grandfather, was sitting on a motorized Rascal, ready to tear through the zoo on 6 volts of horsepower.  And, this guy was heavy... at least 350 lbs.  Call me a conspiracy theorist, but... an Amish family, at the zoo, one of them on a motorized scooter?  Uh... no.

While leaving the zoo and thinking about the Amish family, I had to reflect on one particular "candy table" up near the polar bear pond.  Whereas most vendors were handing out candy to the kids (except for the hippies passing out BOTTLED WATER AS A HALLOWEEN TREAT), one guy with world peace on his mind was handing out CFL bulbs.  You know... the curly-cue type that are supposed to last a thousand years and save you a million dollars.  Yeah, what a treat, eh?  I wonder now... did the Amish guy take one?  That'd be the smoking gun of an Amish conspiracy to me: the acceptance of a modern day CFL light bulb.

See our photo slideshow on the right.

Pirates at 100 Degrees

We were the fortunate buyers of tickets to see the Pittsburgh Pirates last Saturday at PNC Park.  The Pirates are on a winning streak this year; unfortunately, they got their butt's whipped 9-1 by the Cardinals the night we watched them play.

To add to the misery, the heat was hovering in the mid-90s while the humidity was somewhere in the 80% range.  But at those levels, who is really counting any longer?  In other words, we could have gotten the same effect watching the show in a hot tub.

But, we went and smoldered as we watched the Pirates lose.  It was fun anyhow.  The kids got free (i.e., they came with the tickets) Pirates jerseys, which they promptly donned, and after the game we got to watch the Zambelli fireworks show.  It was awesome.

Sitting 9 innings at any baseball game can get boring.  Sitting 9 innings at a Pirates game can be brutal.  Sitting 9 innings in 95+ degree weather and 80% humidity while watching the Pirates lose 9-1 is almost unbearable.  But, the shirts and the fireworks made it worth the pain.

Saturdays At Lowe's

Its become a semi-routine at our house to take the boys once or twice a month to the Lowe's kiddie project thing.  


This month the boys were ready early.  Preston even remembered his cowboy hat.

It was the first of four-- repeat, FOUR-- trips to Lowe's that day, thanks to the basement project I've been working on for almost 9 months now.  I'm just glad that Lowe's is nearly in our backyard... we could walk it in about 15 minutes.

Cal-Amberlee Jane & Preston The Kid

CAL-AMBERLEE JANE & PRESTON THE KID

Retired gunslinger Cal-Amberlee Jane (Amberlee Jensen) reluctantly takes one last job -- and even more reluctantly accepts a boastful young cowboy, Preston "The Kid" (Preston Jensen) as a partner. Together, they learn how easily complicated truths are distorted into simplistic myths about the Old West, especially when one wears a tutu.  Cal-Amberlee Jane with Preston "The Kid" (both won Oscars) and Cletus Beaker stand out as old foes who have an unhappy reunion. The film also earned Oscars for Best Picture and Best Director (Cade Jensen).

Pennsylvania Wildlife

Most people I know that live back in my home state believe Pennsylvania is overcrowded with no room for anything but houses, people, and shopping malls.

Au contriare.  PA has farms, wildlife, forests, and the like.  Here are just a few examples.

Here we have the American Toad (I'm referring to the small green thing in Chrissa's hands... not my kids).  We found this beefy thing in our flowerbeds as we were trying to clean them out and ready them for mulch.

Here we have a closeup of the toad with Preston doing his best impersonation of it.

Here we have the Snotty Toddler.  This animal is easily spotted by its constant runny nose and high-pitched scream.

Note: the above photo was taken at a local dairy, where the kids took a tour of the operations.  Now, all of you Idaho folks, try to remain calm as I continue with my presentation...

Here, we have the Holstein Cow, the largest milk producer in the US (background), and Preston-- the largest consumer of milk in the US (foreground).  Preston was confident he could work in this dairy, though his mom didn't let him.

He also knew the nuances of raising a calf, which he was carefully overseeing.

Now these two characters can easily be mistaken for something sweet, harmless, and lovable.  In reality, they can be as loud as a hyena, as smelly as a skunk, as mean as a rattlesnake, and as nasty as a silverback gorilla.  Rumor has it that they eat fruits and vegetables, but we wouldn't know... we've found that as long as chocolate, ice cream, root beer, and cereal is thrown at them, they remain fairly stable.  However, they can turn on you in a heartbeat.

Preston Turns 5

Happy Birthday to Presto! 

Can't believe he's five already.

Here is a rather lengthy video of the festivities...



R.I.P. (Rascally Instigating Preston)

My poor little Preston.

This morning, March 7, 2011, at ~9:30AM, I got a frantic call at work. 

"You better pray your son lives through the day," said the person on the other end of the line.  I think it was Michelle, but I couldn't be certain.  The tone was raspy and direct, something that exuded death.

She mentioned something about a pencil, walls, dead, "everywhere", etc. I had to piece together what it all meant, and as the puzzle started to materialize, I realized that the situation might be worse than I initially thought.

So, I ran out of the office and headed home to assess the situation first-hand. 

Upon arrival, I went upstairs to the crime scene to see what was going on.  The more I looked, the more bug-eyed I got.  Our little Preston, for some reason known only to himself, decided to take a pencil and write big X's on the walls.  Uh, no... not one X.  Not 2, or 3, or 4.  In fact, I would have been happy had he stopped at 10, 20, or even 30.

No, he scribed 53 X's all over our upstairs facilities-- bedrooms, bathroom, closets, hallways, doors, door casings, and furniture.  Fifty-three... I counted them myself.  Our bathroom had 12.  Our bedroom had 8.  Ambie's bedroom had 7.  Chrissa's room had 8.  The boy's room had at least 7.  The hallway had 5.  And, the doors, furniture, and door casings had the remainder.  These were walls that we had repainted in the months prior in an effort to cover up the "ugly".  Recall the Caucasian Silly Putty Pink that I described in prior articles?  He also drew circles and scribbles of various sizes and shapes.  The average X size was about 12" X 12".  All this happened in about 30 minutes.

How did Michelle catch on?  Preston warned her, "Don't come upstairs," as he closed doors and hid as much of it as he could, and then proceeded to blame his little sister on it all, despite his fingers being covered in pencil-gray.

Why did he do it, you ask?  I have no idea.  But, I think if you see the video below, you might get an answer similar to what I'm thinking.



I was going to take pictures of the destruction, but given Michelle's fragile state of mind (plus the puffy eyes, sharpened fingernails, and overall dazed look), I didn't want to be implicated as a co-conspirator or co-contributor in this case.  Her fuse had been lit, and even though fireworks had gone off, there was no telling when the real "grand finale" would come.

Just imagine, however, every flat surface of every wall with at least one large X written in pencil on it.  Some walls had multiple drawings.  If there was a window, he put at least an X on both sides and another below it.  He even made sure to mark the 2-inch section of wall between the edge of the shower and the corner.

My only conclusion is that he was practicing his letters.  We are working with him on writing his name.  Or, maybe he tapped into his prehistoric self and realized the walls needed some cave paintings.  Or, maybe he was just being a turd.  I won't care to make any wager on which one it was, since it doesn't really matter.

He spent the next several hours with a rag and Windex trying to get off the pencil.  He went through a half-bottle of Windex.  When that died out, we switched to Magic Erasers.  He went through 2 of those.

Once removed, it was my turn to re-paint the affected areas.  To do that, I took off the afternoon from work.  I also took off the afternoon to make sure Michelle didn't kill any kids, kill herself, burn down the house, or do anything rash.

I guess Preston fits nicely into a long line of rascals.  I burned down (part) of our horse's barn while trying to hide a letter from the school indicating a bad grade (why I didn't just throw it away instead of burning it and dropping it in the horse manure where it smoldered for over a week before catching the stupid shed on fire, I'll never know).  Ethan wrote on a couple of walls while he was learning the alphabet.  Chrissa took a piece of hardwood to a new car of our's and effectively "aged" the car at least 10 years in a matter of minutes.  Not sure what Michelle ever did... maybe she was a perfect kid?  I did hear that at the age of 4 she went into neighbor's mailboxes looking for stickers to steal. 

Therefore, I guess we have one last big surprise-- Amberlee.  No telling what she is capable of yet. 

A Family Sociological Experiment

We are a family of musical geniuses.  Obviously.  But, what I was interested in is whether, given the choice of reacting to Lady Gaga music or playing the Wii, which one our kids would choose. 

Christmas 2010



New Christmas Pajamas



As I'm sure is true for all of you, it was a hectic few weeks prior to Christmas and, all of a sudden, it was over.  Now what?


We had a great day, though.  All the fun started the night before.  Honestly, it is getting harder and harder to justify the existence of a Santa Claus for our 8-year-old.  He's finding out that some things just don't make any sense.  Nevertheless, thanks to http://www.noradsanta.org/ we were able to keep the magic alive for him for one more year.

Despite this, however, Ethan was still a bit too curious to totally give in.  At three separate intervals Christmas Eve night, as Michelle and I were "preparing" and he was supposed to be in bed asleep, he snuck out of his bed and went downstairs to get a visual on the tree, presents, and stockings to make a mental comparison of how he left them during his previous inspection.  This is one good thing about buying/owning a crappy run-down house... the stairs creaked a little too much during his descents, triggering my senses and alerting me to the fact that we had a rogue child on the loose.

Ethan: "Dad, what happened to the stockings?"

Dad, realizing he took them off the mantle a bit too early: "Ethan, are you crazy? Santa is probably here right now, and you had to nose around and force him to hide! Now, get to bed!"

Ethan: "Lets check the Internet, just to be sure."

So, thanks to the Internet, we were able to determine that Santa was in the Sandwich Islands at the moment, far away from Pennsylvania and not scheduled to be here for another couple of hours.  I had to come up with excuses, fast. 

Dad: "Let me check with mom..."... "oh, she told me that she had to take them down to make sure they were clean and empty for Santa."

Preston was easy to convince, however.  Everything from brushing his teeth to making sure he made his bed to getting him to eat his beans-- each was "encouraged" by making sure Preston knew that I had access to Santa's cell phone number and could call him at any time.

Preston did almost blow it for all of us, though.  In the days leading up to Christmas, he actually was able to sneak into our bedroom during one of our (actually, Michelle does all the wrapping... I am a wrapping idiot) wrapping evenings.  Amberlee followed.  They found everything that Santa was planning to bring to them, all unwrapped and easily accessible.  Amberlee walked out with her stuffed Minnie Mouse, and Preston came down to ask us who the toy pistols were for.

Needless to say, I got in trouble for not watching the kids closer.  I had to defend myself with the question, "Well, why didn't YOU (Michelle) lock the door when you left the bedroom?"  She countered, "Because I'm too short to reach the key on top of the door jamb!"  Touche.

The kicker was Ethan's Christmas list.  He sent 2 letters to Santa the past couple of weeks, the second letter being a revision to the first.  He had only 3 items on it:

1. A Tech Deck mega ramp (these are the miniature skateboards that are the latest craze at his school);
2. A rat-faced nutcracker; and,
3. A boyish nesting doll.

Ey.  Words cannot express my concern for this kid.  While other boys are interested in the latest Wii games, sporting equipment, etc, my kid hopes that the rat-faced nutcracker he expects to receive is a Russian original.  The nesting dolls??  We tried to convince him that these are girlish, hence the inclusion of the adjective "boyish" on his Christmas List.

Defying all odds, however, Santa was able to find a rat-faced nutcracker.  Although he couldn't make the claim that it was a Russian original, it was a limited edition, which saved us from weeks of scrutiny.

The nesting dolls?  I think Santa had to put his foot down on that one.  "Boyish" couldn't bring him to deliver.

Overall, the kids got spoiled, again.  Amberlee got lots of girlie stuff and HAD to try on all clothes she received before she moved on to another present.  Preston-- he got his guns and his Hot Wheels, and he's happy.  Chrissa got iPod / iTunes stuff, DVDs, and so forth.  She's happy. 

Only 364 days till the next one.

Kid Quotes -- Ethan and Preston

Preston, pointing to a bald guy: "What happened to that man's hair?"

Dad: "Nothing... he's just bald."
Preston: "Why?"
Dad: "I don't know... maybe he just lost it all.  That happens to some people."
Preston: "No, I think when Jesus gave us hair when we were babies, he forgot him."

****

Ethan: "I can't wait to be baptized."
Dad: "Why?"
Ethan: "Because I'm excited to see the pigeon."
Dad: "What pigeon?"
Ethan: "The pigeon that carries the Holy Ghost."
Dad: "I think you mean 'dove'."
Ethan: "There aren't any doves around here, so it has to be a pigeon."

****

Ethan: "Dad, when you pup-pup in the bathtub, why does it make a bubble?"
Dad: "Uh.... Its just the air trying to get out."
Ethan: "Isn't it funny how your bum and the water can work together to make a bubble?"

National Treasures

Last weekend we made another trip to Washington DC.  Church thing.  We didn't have a whole lot of time, so we drove there (4 hours) and back in the same day.  It was a whirlwind.

But, to break up the day, we took the kids to the Air and Space Museum annex, which is located near Dulles International Airport, before we made the journey home.  The Museum contains all the air and space stuff that the primary museum on the National Mall can't contain.  So it promised to be good

Like all Smithsonian museums, it was free; however, unlike all Smithsonians, our parking fee was $15. 

However, the treasures inside were awesome!  Of particular importance were the following historical aircraft:

1. Space Shuttle Enterprise-- my personal favorite, but it nearly became the victim of a national disaster at the hand of my 2 year old... keep readin'.
2. Enola Gay-- the bomber that ended WWII.  Again, another favorite of mine... its size was incredible.
3. SR-71 Blackbird-- the spy plane of the Cold War.
4. Concord-- the Air France commercial jet that got you from one place to another in supersonic time.

The place also had a mish-mash assortment of odd items... the first flying car, the first helicopter, etc. 

Hundreds of planes, parked on the floor or hanging from the ceiling.  It was amazing that one building could contain them all.

So, back to our adventures with the official prototype of the United States Space Shuttle program.  As you might guess, each plane is fenced off to keep the riff-raff from accessing it.  What the Smithsonians never counted on was the sly maneuvering of small children who see these things as challenges rather than restrictions.  One minute Amberlee was by my side, the next minute she was running underneath the Enterprise... in full view of the crowds with all the spotlights shining on her.  My heart about dropped into my shoes as I gave her the Death Glare and, with a prominent index finger pointing down to my side, insisted that she come back.  It took her a few moments, but I believe the heat radiating from my face convinced her I was serious.

Thankfully, no CIA or FBI guys dropped out of the ceiling at the scene to haul me off to Guantanamo Bay.  But, as you recall from our trip to the Breakers House in Newport Rhode Island, she has a knack for threatening our lives by threatening national treasures.  At the Breakers House, she jumped on Mr. Vanderbilt's patio chair-- a total violation of the rules.  Now, it was the Space Shuttle.

I think her cuteness prevented us from being locked up forever.