Post-posted from Sunday, April 7, 2002
I have the urge to write this stuff. But I’ll probably write tonight and then not write again for maybe a couple or three years.
Giselle and Harrison are growing up and I’m going to forget a lot of things.
Giselle is getting smarter and smarter. She could probably read by now if I spent more time reading with her. She’s known the alphabet for over a year. She can write some letters if they’re named to her, and she’s getting really good at writing her name. She colors with crayons, watercolor, and on the computer. Over the past couple months, she has started going leaps and bounds with the things she draws. She’s going to be ahead of where I was when I was in kindergarten. She was frustrating Harrison today by not giving him the Blue’s Clues toy house that he was glomming on all day long. She’s telling him “No Harrison! I need it to concentrate! No!” so I look up and she’s in Photoshop drawing the house as she looked at it. Boy oh boy, it was too cool.
And now she’s coloring pictures of the bathroom and the kitchen for me and griping that the computer isn’t letting her “type letters” to her friends (SimpleText isn’t working for some reason).
Harrison is a character. He sticks to Giselle like glue and he’s talking more and more. He’s an emotional little guy. He can be so happy and jolly and then next thing you know, he is crying pouting and throwing himself to the floor and bonking his head to make his displeasure known. When he suddenly decides that something is gross, he says “eeyuckie boogers.” Cracks me up every time. He can be really polite with his “thank yous” (keekoo) and “your welcomes” (yewecome). He has this obsessive compulsive thing about latching the refrigerator safety lock if one of us forgets to. When he’s not glued to Giselle, he’s crawling all over Amanda and jabbing his elbows and cranium into her ribs and any other pressure points. I’ve been wondering if we need to get him boxing gear to protect himself and his unsuspecting victims.
Oh man, the X-Files is such a joke the past year. I think they’re letting Barnum & Bailey write the scripts.
I’m “trying” to build gates for the back yard. So I go out yesterday and lay down $140 for lumber, hinges, latches and cement because that’s the easy part. So then this afternoon, I get to wreck my hands trying to dig post-holes through the titanium reinforced cement that the butthole contractors spilled within a three foot radius of the foundation and sidewalks of the house. I’m wearing my oh-so-safe plastic safety goggles and chiselling it with a hammer and screwdriver and a pick-axe and sparks are flying and I’m just waiting for a razor sharp chip of cement to slam into my groin at mach-one. Well I busted a couple inches away and have six more to go. Yay. Tommorrow I’ll see if I can get my hands on some dynamite. “That’s a rather oddly placed hole in your house Mr. Perez.” “Yes, that’s our new sunrise breakfast nook.”
Ok, see this, I’m writing too much already. I’ll think I have to do this every time, and I’ll decide I just don’t have the time for a few more years.
A lame haiku:
Up till 2 am
Watching TV and bloating
Kids are on the rag
Jeremy
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