Dee, yr butt is bigger than mine!

Mike has a story 4 U, which @ least has the virtue of b-ing in present tense. How our standards drop when we R beaten down w/the flashbacks, eh?

April,

Formerly little sis. One of the more difficult times of my day is the 2 hours between the time I pick up my daughter from her school and the time that my wife, the lovely Deanna, comes home from work to take over the kids. My son's sitter leaves after I get back with my daughter and so for 2 hours it's just me and the children. When my book Stone Season had just been published, I used to keep the children entertained by reading to them excerpts from my book. But lately, even that promise of literary greatness has not been enough to keep them occupied.

As you know, mom's primary way of keeping us occupied during that period of time coming home from school was food, but Deanna doesn't believe in feeding the children after school snacks. As she puts it, “There’s no way my kids are going to be as fat as your mother and your…” hum…well, some other people Deanna knows. My wife was pretty adamant about it, and when she is adamant about it, she withholds things to encourage me to be adamant too.

So, as it occurred, one day my daughter and son came into the kitchen as I was beginning the process of preparing for supper and was feeling especially matronly, like I almost looked like Elizabeth. I was trying out a new recipe, but the lettering was not quite that clear. It either said, "Parmesan and Sweet Potato" or it said, "Right Arm and Sweat Pit" I wasn't sure, so to make sure everything was covered, I took a checked towel and rubbed it up into my right arm pit, to make sure it absorbed some sweat from up there. As I was doing this, my daughter said, "Dad? Daddy! -- When will supper be ready?" I replied in my usual manner in which Deanna had instructed me, "You two just had lunch!" My lovely wife had said, "No afternoon snacks" and I had to stick with her rules. My daughter countered with "I know -- But we're HUNGRY!" I countered with my usual manner in which Deanna had instructed me, "You're not hungry...you're bored." As I said this, I looked at the recipe book in my left hand, as I squeezed the arm pit sweat into the casserole dish, to make sure I got the right proportion.

Deanna had often told me the best way to deal with bored children, who were complaining they were hungry, was to put them in charge of the carrots. We have had carrots with every single meal since we have been married, and so the likelihood of the children snacking on them is remote.

You may recollect a story my wife told back about 3 years ago, when she had my daughter help her in the kitchen and put her on a chair with the back of the chair facing away from the cabinet, causing an unsafe condition where the carrots and my daughter fell. Well, we have learned from that situation, and I put the back of the chair toward the cabinet. Now the chair is solid as a rock. It’s practically immoveable.

I put her on the chair and said, "So, Meredith, you can peel the carrots and Robin can feed the rabbit with the peelings." Then I gave her a peeler, a cutting board, and a few carrots and told her to go to it. Now that I think back on that event, I probably should have made some pun about how carrots have an appeel to rabbits.

I know there are some parents who think the child should be taught what to do before saying, "Go to it.", but we Pattersons are made of sterner stuff. None of this, “Move the peeler across the carrot away from your body so you don’t cut your fingers” business. After a few cuts on her fingers, I was sure my daughter would figure it out. As it turned out, I was not quite right.

As was about to put my special casserole dish into the oven, my daughter started crying, "I hate this! I can't DO it! It's too HARD! There she was moving the peeler right down toward her fingers, her nose gone to a button, and tears were streaming in an arc above her head.

My son, who is usually attracted to blood, said, "Can I try?" Then he grabbed the peeler with his right hand, and leapt onto the chair with my daughter who tried to bludgeon him with a carrot, while he tried to pull out her hair, as they fought over the peeler. They both started sending out arcs of tears, and my initial thought was, “Wow! It really pays off to have the back of the chair next to the cabinet, because the chair was not budging the slightest bit, even with the two of them on the chair at the same time, pounding their fists into each other and pulling out great clumps of hair. It was fairly amazing. I am sorry you were not here to see it.”

I hate to admit a little selfishness, since things have been so dull in our family since last September, I found I was enjoying my children’s battle a little too much. After all, it was the first excitement we have had around here in months. But eventually, my good parent nature kicked in and I thought, “What is the solution to this problem?” And right away, I knew the problem was a clear case of supply and demand. I had two children who wanted a peeler and there was only one peeler. I tried to remember if we had more than one peeler, but it didn’t come to me, even after several minutes. I think it was because the kids were screaming and shrieking and punching and kicking so much, it was difficult to concentrate.

So, I admit it, April. I had to resort to calling Deanna at work to ask her, “Honey? Do we have another peeler?” Naturally, Deanna was upset when I called. I forgot that she would be able to hear the background noise. She said, “Michael!! Stop the children from fighting and then I will tell you where we keep the extra peelers.” She didn’t seem to understand that the extra peeler was needed to stop the fight; so I explained that to her. Then she said, “Michael Patterson. Is there a Lynn written in cursive near your crotch?” I told her there was, and she said if I removed that I would be able think more clearly. She was right, of course, and I was able to settle things down a lot better. After all, there is not much that can disturb a man’s thinking more than having a Lynn near his crotch.

Love,
Michael Patterson

Gah, poor kids! But yeah, @ least sumthing is happening. I h8 it when time stands still around here. Jeremy, I had so much fun w/U watching the U.S. Super Bowl last nite, and yeah, the makeup did the trick this morning!

Apes