I Hate Monopoly

For years now there's been a Star Wars Edition Monopoly set collecting dust on the shelf in the guest room closet. I think my sister bought it at least a decade ago and gave it to me maybe six years ago because she never used it. Guess what? We never used it either. Yesterday Henry noticed it for the first time and asked to play. I had to read the rule book because it's been probably twenty years since I last played Monopoly, and I'm not sure I even knew the rules then. Basically since Henry's only five and doesn't have a firm grasp on money and consequences, I had to do everything for him except roll the dice and advance his little Luke/Darth Vader/Emperor (He kept changing his mind about which one he wanted). We played for about an hour during which time Henry thoroughly trounced my butt. Finally I called an end to the game because I was sick of playing (losing). This morning before book club met at our house we played again for about an hour, and yes, Henry schooled me again. Then he wanted to play again this afternoon. We played for two hours. I landed in jail at least four times. I went straight to the $200 tax square three separate times after passing Go. Henry finally got a spaceport on Lars' Homestead and wouldn't you know it, I landed on that freaking spot twice, completely cleaning me out.

At least Henry had fun. Die, Monopoly, die!

Morning Fun

Today our morning trip to the park was cut short. Henry was having a fun time with some kids on the merry-go-round, having imaginary trips to Mars, etc. Soon all the kids were joking about throwing up, touting their three, four and five-year-old acting skills, making barfing sounds as they spun around and around, which was disgustingly hilarious until one little kid puked for real. That was the cue for the end of the merry-go-rounding, and some of us grownups decided to duck out early, myself included. Unfortunately, Henry was almost out of the park when he lost his breakfast, thoroughly. It was one of those moments when all you can do is watch and wait for it to be over, then share a laugh with the other mom whose kid puked, and hope for the sake of the other parents that their kids don't puke in the car on the way home.

The only thing missing was a fat kid and a pie eating contest.

My Sensitive Boy

So Henry's one of those kids who pretty much wants to run around being funny and having fun all the time. This personality type tends to interfere somewhat with the whole you have to be reverent at church thing, so Henry and I have worked out a rewards system to hopefully find a happy middle ground. When he's good at church he earns a star sticker; three stickers (three "good" sundays) earn him a treat, ten will get him a used video game. Since the advent of the sticker policy, he's only missed out on one star and tomorrow I'm taking him to pick out a treat.

Today Henry was pretty good. I stopped to chat with his teacher to see how he fared. Apparently Henry was really glad to have his teachers back (She and her husband have been on an extended summer vacation). She told me he behaved well, but had a brief emotional breakdown towards the end of class and told her he really loved her a lot. This made me laugh, in an amused, isn't-that-sweet kind of way. So on the way home in the car I asked him why he'd cried in class. He got a little teary and said that he was so glad that his teacher was back and didn't want her to go away again.

Aww, what a sweet kid. I think it's hilarious though, that he didn't even remember her name.

Ten Years

This past weekend Ben and I celebrated our anniversary. We were married ten years ago in the Washington, D.C. temple. No, writing that didn't make me feel old. But realizing that I was sealed there with my parents and sisters almost twenty nine years ago sure does. So Ben and I decided it was time to head back up to D.C. and check things out, seeing how it's been a few years. We made it a family thing, brought Henry along and drove up with my parents. Henry's main ambition was to ride on the metro. He's a huge fan of trains and was thrilled at the idea of a train that goes underground. Thursday we spent the morning driving up there and stopped by the temple visitor center to stretch our legs and show Henry around. It's just as beautiful as I remembered.


After we checked into our hotel we went for a walk and Henry insisted on seeing the metro, so we walked down and let him look around. Satisfied that he'd definitely get to ride it a lot the next day, we went back up and went for a walk and dinner.

The next morning we took the metro to Union Station and Henry loved the heck out of that. After breakfast we toured the mall and most of the museums.


Henry especially liked the armor exhibit at one of the art galleries (can't remember which one it was).


Henry also liked it when we stopped to rest a bit.


He also liked helping his mom burn off some blubber.


We walked from the capitol building to the Lincoln memorial. Instead of turning back around we decided to ride the metro back from the stop at Arlington, so we walked across the bridge to get there. Were were all very tired at this point.

I pointed to the big white house on the hill in the distance and asked Henry if he wanted to walk up and see it.

"No!"


We had a nice long ride back to the hotel and Henry got to hang out with Grandma and Papaw while Ben and I went back to the temple. It was very nice. Ben even got all romantic and stuff and took me to where he slipped my wedding band on my finger those many years before. Then we had a nice romantic dinner at Burger King because everywhere else was closed. Yeah, who am I kidding? This is Ben we're talking about; he's lucky I'm the kind of person who couldn't care less about fancy dining. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we were made for each other.

The next day we parted ways with Mom and Dad so they could visit the Holocaust museum, and Ben and I took Henry to the National Zoo. It's not as big or long a walk as our zoo in Asheboro, but after all the walking we did the day before, we were pretty much tired before we even started. But it was fun. Somehow after complaining about being too tired to walk, Henry miraculously recovered enough energy to run amok in the Think Tank building. Then to his infinite joy we ate at McDonalds and then rode the metro again. The kid loves the metro.


We paid one last visit to the temple before heading home.


Tomorrow I'm driving to the park.

Henry Learns to Swim

I'm happy to report that Henry can now dog paddle across the pool.

So Ben's Been Getting Back into Shape...

...Which started with him resuming him running the greenway, which he abandoned sometime last year, either when it got too hot or cold, I forget which. He's been at it for about a month and lost about a micrometer of his chubba-chubba (as Henry calls it) and now has to scale back a bit. Monday he went to work as usual and called me to report he was having severe abdominal pain and was throwing up. I offered to come pick him up and take him to the doctor, but he decided to wait it out; manliness and pecuniary issues always make him reluctant to see a doctor. He came home feeling fine, so he chalked it up to a virus. Then at four thirty a.m., he was up with the same pain, so I drove him to a walk in clinic as soon as it opened. From information he found perusing the internet Ben figured he had a kidney stone, but after two and a half hours at the doctor's office (Henry's patience was wearing thin after hour number two), the doctor couldn't say for sure and referred him to a general practitioner. So Ben set up an appointment with somebody, but then the next morning he was hurting again, so we went to the emergency room. I got Henry up (it was way too early to call a neighbor to watch him), and got him dressed and supplied with a fluffy blanket so he could go back to sleep in the car if he wanted. Luckily we live right down the road from the local hospital and the emergency room was all but deserted. Henry and I snuggled under the blanket in the waiting room while Ben had a cat scan. The sun was just starting to rise and Henry asked, "Is it almost morning?" It was a little after six, so I said yes. Anything earlier than that is most definitely not morning. A few minutes later we were hanging out with Ben in his little exam room and the doctor confirmed that it was a kidney stone. We were relieved that it wasn't something worse, but still glum. Poor Ben. Now he thinks he can lord it over me for sympathy because kidney stone pain is comparable to childbirth pain. I just reminded him that I wasn't crazy; when I was in labor I took all the pain meds they threw at me. So now he's waiting for Junior to work his way out of his kidney and emerge gloriously from his urethra. Wheeeee!!!!

Since Ben was feeling okay and supplied with pain medication and was working from home, I took Henry with me to Maggie's place so we could do the grandkid photo we'd been planning. Korah, Wolfe, Zejda and Maddox were there along with Wesley and all the kids had fun for a few hours before we fixed lunch and herded them to the portrait place. We chose this particular franchise because the one where I live has always impressed me. The folks at the location in Greensboro, however, failed to make the slightest positive impression, which is saying something since I usually don't care one way or another about how people run their businesses as long as they get the job done. I could complain about how the computers where customers pick out their portraits were occupied by chicks playing games and checking their email while we waited for the photographer, but since I'd probably have done the same thing (albeit I'd have gotten off the minute a customer walked in) I can't complain too much. We explained what we wanted, a group shot of the kids, but the photographer insisted that she had to take individual shots of the kids. I know it's because they want us to see a nice individual shot and be tempted to buy it, but still, as I explained, we didn't have time to waste for something we didn't want. I thought about asking her about the huge family reunion photo on the wall, "You mean to tell me that you made forty people sit through individual shots just so you could give them what they asked for in the first place?" The photoshoot or whatever you call it, didn't go well. All I can say is that the chick deserved it. Maybe if she'd gotten one of her coworkers to assist her Wesley might smiled in more than one shot. She probably took fifty shots and only ten of them were of what we wanted, and of those ten only one was acceptable, but not with the background we wanted. We made her skip over all the individual shots, only taking time to laugh at the ones where the kids looked silly (I might've bought the one with Wolfe winking like a complete goofball if I weren't so annoyed at the chick). So after that I bought a box of ice cream for the kids and we visited a pet store to kill time, then we stopped by to visit my mom at work before Henry and I drove home. Good thing we made that stopover, because it forced me to take a back way home, thereby avoiding I-40 and the huge wreck in Durham I would've either been in or been delayed by. All in all, a crazy day.

Last night Ben heard something rooting through the trashcan. I'd heard it before, and have picked up trash from some creature dumpster diving for spoiled meat, so I was interested to see the culprit. I turned on the porch light and went back to the window.

I told Ben there was something in the trashcan.

"How do you know?"

"The lid's up."

Then I told him, "It's a raccoon."

"How do you know?"

"He's looking right at me."

The raccoon was staring insolently at me from his perch on the lip of the trashcan, and I ran off to get the camera. Of course, by the time I got back he'd already hopped down and moseyed on to raid the neighbors' garbage. I guess I'll have to get a bungee to secure the lid.

Time for an Update

Because updates are important, even if not much has been going on.

A couple of weeks ago I spotted a white grandma hair on my shirt and since it was a bit long I deduced it hadn't been picked up at Mee-Maw's house (Ben's grandma sports the traditional, professionally coiffed old lady fro), and since it was the same length and straightness of my own hair I knew without having to perform a DNA analysis that it had indeed come from my own head. It was with irritated resignation that I accepted the fact that I'd had a gray hair long enough to die of old age and fall off my head. Then like the next day I found another one. So I'm kind of amused at myself for being a girl, i.e., having a tiny, chagrined desire to stop the hands of time and remain young forever. Believe me, it's not all about the gray hairs-- as my mom and sisters can attest, a bottle of hair dye'll take care of that real quick, but about everything else, my body aging, weakening, falling apart, etc. But as I've never done anything "unnatural" to my hair, aside from that bowl cut back in the early nineties, I've decided to see how long it takes me to go completely white. When I'm really old I want to look like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies, which means I'd better start exercising more and working on my shotgun skills.

Halfway Through July Already?

It's amazing how fast time flies by when you're busy being lazy. Actually, I've been slightly more on top of housework lately. It's this weird phase I'm going through, getting things straightened and organized, cleaned, laundry done (for the most part). It's very strange to be sitting at night on the computer or reading a book and stopping suddenly in the midst of sloth and wondering briefly at the strange absence of something, then realizing that there's no procrastinator's guilt because I already cleaned up. I'm pretty dang sure this won't last. But so far so good. I mean, if I could somehow keep this up and make it a habit... Yeah, okay, let's not kid ourselves. But still, it'd be kind of cool.

So far the summer's gone by pretty well. Henry and I have been doing a fair amount of swimming, mostly at Ben's grandparents' place, avoiding the sun, as usual. I seriously hate the sun. We went to the lake a couple weeks ago and when I got tired of swimming I sat in a chair with my feet in the water, a towel draped over my head and shoulders and one over my lap. Yes, I looked like a psycho, but I'm too cheap to buy a beach umbrella when a towel works just as well. And yes, I wore sunblock.

Independence Day was fun. That afternoon we went for a long walk to the dragon park and played, then drove over to the Wal-mart parking lot to watch fireworks. We've never done that before, usually we go to Raleigh at the state fairgrounds. We got there a few minutes early and by nine the lot was full. The fireworks there were better than the ones we'd seen in the past, but halfway through Henry insisted that he had to go to the bathroom, so Ben walked him over to the port-a-john, except he ended up using the bushes instead. Hurray for America! (That's what Henry kept saying, anyway.)

Henry's in his room right now playing with his toys. It sees that his catchphrase for the day is, "Victory is mine!"

I'm not sure that he even knows what that means, and it totally cracks me up.

The Woes of Power Outage

Yesterday while I was enjoying a Sunday afternoon nap, the power went out. I might have slept through the whole episode but for the fact that a neighbor called to see if we still had electricity at our place. Henry and I chatted about why he couldn't open the fridge door while the power was out, why he couldn't leave the front door open, etc., and we went down a list of all the things in the house that don't work without electricity. Henry was happy to know that his legos still work without power, as did his walkie-talkies, but then thought for a millisecond.

"My games use power!"

He got all teary and sad and I quickly reminded him that the power was only going to be out for a little while, not forever. Then he was okay again. After that Ben took Henry for a ride around the neighborhood and I went back to sleep. Sunday afternoon naps are essential to my sanity, after all.

Of course, the power was back on by the time they got back, and Henry parked himself in front of the TV for a cathartic viewing of Loony Tunes.

Henry is Such a Boy

Yeah, so Henry is growing up. He hasn't quite caught onto the notion that girls are icky, but he is starting to believe that boys are far superior. A while back he constructed a fort from the couch, desk and lazyboy configuration in the living room. He wanted me to make a sign that said "no girls allowed," but knowing that he would use this sign for evil I told him to make his own sign, which he promptly did. He very happily showed me his sign, written on a giant piece of card board covered in magic marker scribbles. I did the mom thing where you say, "oh, I see," when pretending to make sense of such scribbles, when he pointed out his sign, a tiny blob inside one of those crossed-out circle things. I took a picture, check it out:



Can you see it? I almost didn't.

Then my little boy supremest decided that his room needed scary pictures on the door to keep the girls at bay. So he enlisted my help in drawing ghosts and bats and such. He wanted a skeleton, but I made him draw it himself. I had to tell him how to draw everything, but he paid attention and followed directions pretty well. And the results:



And as for my most recent achievement, I did a load of whites yesterday and forgot to put them in the dryer. Ta-da!

Recent Events

Lots of stuff's been going on this month and as a consequence of busy-ness combined with laziness, I have sadly neglected the whole blogging thing. Like anyone cares, I know. But for those few who do, be prepared for excitement galore.

A little while back, an old friend just happened to have a convention to attend in Raleigh. Some may remember Cherie from such places as Family Search... It was nice getting to see her again, and spending the day with her and her husband, Dennis. We went on an educational tour of Yates Mill, this old historical place on the outskirts of Raleigh, as suggested by Cherie. One would think that having lived in this area for almost ten years that I'd have some clue as to what kinds of things there are to do and see. Oh, well. I am boring. And lazy. So I think Cherie knows more about places of interest in Raleigh than I do, probably the history, too. Although I know a little more now, thanks to this loquacious old lady at a historical society booth. We got to listen to a bluegrass band play "Salty Dog." Ben was surprised that I knew of that song and could actually sing some of the lyrics, but anyone who knows my dad and his penchant for the "Andy Griffith Show" wouldn't be. Henry played some games and came in second place in a sack race (there was one other kid in the race) and won a ribbon. Since there were a million ribbons and only a few kids, Henry asked for and received a blue and a green one, too.

Ben and Henry at Yates Mill:



Monday was the Spanish Branch's annual Memorial Day picnic at Harris Lake Park. We all had lots of fun, ate some good Hispanic food, and got plenty of sun. Henry had a blast engaging in non-stop water gun warfare, Ben got to play some beach volley ball, and I got to sit and relax. Plus I only found one tick on me when I got home, so that was good.

Tuesday Henry and his Joy School classmates graduated. We were supposed to have the graduation party at the park, but right when we walked out the door it started raining. So everybody came over to our place instead. Henry was excited to move past Joy School and is looking forward to going to kindergarten this August. Yeah, Henry.



Wednesday I folded a giant mountain of laundry. Sorry, no before and after photo. It would be far too shocking.

Thursday Henry and I went to the zoo. We rode down with our neighbor and her little boy, plus one of her friends and her little boy. We had to make an emergency pit stop at the Wal-Mart in Siler City for a bathroom break. Henry didn't want to go in so we waited in the car. Then about thirty seconds later he decided he wanted to use the bathroom after all. On the way in we ran into my father-in-law. Henry looked at him and said, "I know you!" One should hope so, although I guess meeting people you know out of context throws everybody for a loop. The zoo was lots of fun and we got to ride the shuttle bus back to our parking lot, which Henry and the boys really enjoyed. Then I got a huge headache, but after chugging three quarters of a Mt. Dew the caffeine did it's job and I didn't throw up. Yeah!



And today we went to the library and I found a new suit for Henry on sale for fifteen bucks. Not as cheap as his old suit ($10), but this one came with a shirt and tie. I had to threaten him with death to get him to try it on. And yes, he looks very cute in it. Even when he pulls a silly face.

Another Random Sampler

A while back while we were on an outing, a little bird got inside the house. Ben had left the upstairs bathroom window open, which is currently sans screen. When we got home he was disturbed by what he assumed was something the cat had done on his computer desk. Of course, a few seconds later the bird made his/her presence known by flapping around the computer room in a panic, and hid behind some junk on the top of the bookshelf. Dori, of course, was delighted, albeit a little frustrated because she'd been unable to get her claws on the bird. Ben, however, was not delighted, as there were several deposits of bird poop on his computer. Ben asked me for help in evicting the bird, wondering aloud if we'd have to rig a sheet or something to scare it out. I told him to open the window, so Ben pulled up the blinds and opened the window about two inches. The bird didn't wait for him to get it open any further and promptly swooped down at the window, smacking right into the glass. Then after a moment it collected it's addled brains and hopped out of the window and out of our lives.

Look closely behind the carousel music box.


I believe this is a Carolina Wren. I also believe he did a fair amount of dusting while he was up there because there are usually more cobwebs adorning the knick knacks.

And for those of you craving a Henry story:

Saturday Henry gave a jubilant, "Whoo hoo!" Then he explained himself, "I said 'whoo hoo' because I didn't want to go to church."


And a photo of Henry and his cute cousin, Wesley:

Stupid Birds

Another bird smacked into our back window again. No corpse or anything, but I was getting sick of having to scrape feathers off the glass. Henry and I made a few scary silhouettes to keep them off.



Clockwise from top left: hungry raptor, vampire bat, starving kitty, and Henry's contributions: butterfly and boomerang.

I like the cat one the best since it's in attack mode. But you know that butterfly's pretty cool, too. Birds'll think it's a tasty snack up until that terrifying moment when they get right up on it and realize it's rabid! Ahhhh! We'll have birds dying of heart attacks left and right.

Okay, so I've really been a lazy slob lately. I blame it on the fact that last week we took off Thursday night and spent the weekend at my parents camping and having fun. Saturday while Mom and Dad were occupied at a blood drive, Ben and I loaded their old stove onto Dad's truck. It's one of those glass top deals with two ovens, so the thing felt like it weighed somewhere around three hundred pounds. Loading it involved using caveman mechanics (think ramp constructed from broken table leaf, piece of old barn wood), grunting, sweating, a little swearing (whoops, my bad-- I thought I was going to be crushed-- and Henry was nowhere within hearing range), and using our primitive brains to figure out the winch strap thingies. We managed to get it secured without too much trouble, got Henry in his booster seat and drove home. Henry was adamant that we were only going home to feed the cat and swap out stoves, that we had to go straight back to Papaw's afterward. We moved the old stove out first, which compared with the new one practically weighed nothing at all. Then I directed Ben as he backed the truck up to the front porch, signaled him to stop with upraised hands, yelled, "Stop. Stop! STOP!" and heard an audible snap when he tapped the porch rail with the tailgate. The rail was knocked a little loose, and there was a crack along the line where the bricks meet the concrete part of the porch, but the porch roof didn't collapse on me. Hurrah, I'm still alive.

So after a long weekend I went home and reaqcuainted my butt with my computer chair. Feels good to be back.

Easter Weekend

Saturday we all went to the Super Target in Apex to see about procuring a few items, namely some vegetables for Ben's moro rice, an Easter Egg dye kit, and some caulk. The veggies were a bust, so we moved on to the egg dye. The entire Easter section had been ransacked by vandals or Visigoths or something; maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but it seemed that all that was left was was half a bag of crushed candy eggs, some peeps a nauseating shade of fuchsia, and a dismembered rabbit carcass. I did, however, find some caulk, so we were able to at least get one thing taken care of. On the way out of the store Henry hung on to the blubber on my waist, singing, "Chubby, chubby, chubby fat."

Thanks a lot, kid. Way to boost my self-esteem.

We drove clear across Raleigh to go to this Hispanic grocery store. Ben found everything he needed and I was able to entertain Henry by telling him what all the dead things in the meat section were. Then we went home and I caulked up the holes in the siding on the back of the house while Ben made his rice. He made it with pigeon peas and aside from the pigeon peas, the rice was good.

Then I boiled up some eggs and Henry helped me dye them. I had about six tablespoons of vinegar left, so we were able to barely coat the bottoms of six bowls. Henry helped me stir food coloring into the vinegar and then ran off to watch TV while I carefully rationed the dye to drizzle over a dozen eggs.

Sunday was busy. Henry was happy because Nee-nee came to church and had fun with a "Barrel of Monkeys" she gave him. The quartet I loosely organized (which included Ben) got to sing their song "Te Necisito Si" (Spanish version of "I need the Every Hour"). Then I got to substitute for Henry's Sunday school class. As I've said before, his regular teachers have my admiration, adoration, and deep pity. There's usually eight or nine kids in his class, but since a bunch of families were out of town, there were only seven kids this time. Having previously witnessed the havoc wreaked by Henry and his two pals during Sharing Time I decided since I had two whole hours with them by myself I'd need a bribe to keep them in line. So I brought a bunch of little bags of M&M's and told the kids they'd get a treat if they were really good. It worked for the most part and I actually got through the lesson without too much trouble. Then I found out we're not supposed to give out food of any kind during Sunday school. Whoops. Then I had to herd all seven crazy kids to closing exercises, during which I had to sit between Henry and his buddies, then herd them all back, which was pretty much like trying to herd dandelion fluff during a hurricane. Wow, no wonder they have to have two adults to a class; one to teach and one to herd.

After I got the festering boiled egg stink out of the house by opening the windows, after we'd eaten dinner, and all the craziness was over and calm had settled at the Tilley household, Henry said, "The Easter Bunny isn't real."

Ben then asked him how he got all the stuff in his Easter basket.

Henry replied that it just appeared.

How?

"The wizard from Lord of the Rings."

Seriously, people.

I Need to Find a Pair of Boy's Size 11 White Dress Shoes

And a gray suit and red bow tie. Henry found out that somewhere in the attic I had packed away my old concert band bow tie. Henry literally bugged me for days to go find it for him so he could dress up like Pee Wee Herman. I kid you not. So last week I braved the mess and started digging through the big box full of shoe boxes which contain various souvenirs saved from my pre-marriage life. It took me a while but I found the bow tie. I honestly can't remember why I saved it, or even how I remembered that I still had it. Nevertheless, there it was. Henry was all excited and wanted to put it on right away. The next day and the day following he wanted to wear it everywhere but I made him wait until he actually had to dress up; i.e., for church. I'm uncertain as to how or why, but he went all day at church without taking it off. I'm not sure if he was feeling extra cool wearing it, or if he simply couldn't figure out how to get it off. At any rate he looked really cute, despite the fact that he forgot a belt and his pants kept slipping and showing off his Spider-man underpants.

I keep thinking one day he'll be all grown up and I'll have run out of things in the attic for him to play with. What a bittersweet day that will be.

Another Test in Patience

Ok, it was supposed to be an eye exam, but Henry finds all kinds of ways to get me riled up. Plus it was four p.m., a time when he really should have been at home making me crazy instead of at the optometrist's. They really ought to come up with something over the counter for moms who're going through the "what's this what's that why why why" phase of five year old boys. I know, they've already got something and it's called booze, but I'm a non-drinker, so there goes that. The million question marathon started early this morning and I got a two hour break while Henry was at joy school, then it started again when I picked him up, quieted a little so he could cram in some lunch, cranked back up when we went to the store, then went into full blast at the optometrist's office.

I believe with all my heart that Henry flunked the vision test at the pediatrician's simply by being Henry. He's like a honey bee, buzzing from one thing to the next, and if the thing he's presented with isn't full of sweet, sweet nectar, he's not giving it the time of day. He plays along at first and then my son, Henry, whose vision is sharp enough to tell me that the B.J.'s sign had a broken b, that Wal-mart was the store with the star on it, tells the chick with the eye chart that everything is fuzzy. Of course, it's fuzzy. Fuzzy means your eyes are bad and you need glasses, which Henry wants desperately. Being a little liar, albeit a cute one, he's also bouncing all over the place, looking everywhere but where he's told. I have to hold his head still so they can used the machine to see how his eyes are focusing, but that was hardly helpful since he kept looking away every time she tried to run the test. Then the optometrist does her thing and I'm thinking to myself what a huge waste of time the trip was. Not a bit surprised when she says he doesn't need glasses.

Henry was disappointed, though. At the the check out counter he whined and insisted that his eyes were bad and he needed glasses, so the clerk gave him some of those plastic rolled-up disposable sunglasses for when you get your eyes dilated. That helped a little. Then another office lady asked him who his favorite basketball team was and because he knows his Dad hates Carolina (Ben's a NC State fan, which by definition means you have to hate UNC), said North Carolina was his favorite. The office lady gave him a little blue basketball.

"Oh, Henry. You're going to make Daddy mad when he sees that."

Henry grins with evil delight.

When we get home he races inside with the ball. "Dad! Look!"

Green Eggs and Shots

Yesterday it was my turn for Joy School again. Since I did a hash job on Tuesday and forgot to do the Green Eggs and Ham story, I threw it in with the other stuff about the joy of trust, etc. Beforehand I warned Henry that we were going to be making green eggs and ham for our Joy School snack. He thought that was pretty cool, but he was dead certain that he hated green eggs and ham and would not be personally sampling any of it. The kids gathered around and watched as I scrambled some eggs with green food coloring and cooked them along with a piece of ham. The ham was one of those little Canadian bacon pieces, but I didn't put any dye on it. Something about green meat makes me shudder, even if it is only dyed. I had to put cheese on the eggs to get Henry to eat any. He insisted that he wasn't touching the ham. For some reason he was convinced that ham was one of the millions of things he hates and will never eat. Not even in a box with a fox on a train in the rain. I served him some anyway, a third of a piece of the little Canadian bacon. I cut a tiny piece off of that and had him try it. It was pretty funny watching his face, because it was obvious he was trying to think up something negative to say as he put it in his mouth (a miracle that he did it, if you ask me) and when he tasted it, a look of pleased surprise, and a slightly guilty amusement because he knew that I knew he'd been plotting to weasel out of eating the rest of it. Then without further ado he popped the rest of the ham in his mouth and ate his green eggs and cheese. Yeah! One more thing Mr. Picky will eat.

Today Henry had his annual visit to the doctor. It being his five year check up, he had four vaccinations waiting for him. Since Henry hasn't had a shot in so long I explained the process, why we have shots and all that. Then I told him the good news: after getting shots you get a treat. Henry decided that he wanted bubble gum. I think I was more nervous about him getting shots than he was, remembering myself getting those shots in the leg when I was a little kid, so I from time to time reminded him of his awaiting treat to keep him positive. I didn't really have to worry about that. He was very chatty with the nurse and doctor and told him all about being five and having "a lot of Legos" and holding a closed fist, "That's zero. Zero is nothing." He had his vision and hearing tested, and while his hearing is fine, I'm going to have to take him to the optometrist to have his vision rechecked because everything on one line was "too little" which means he may have inherited Ben's eyes, even if they are brown like mine and not blue like Ben's. Then Henry got two shots in each leg. Poor guy, he was trying so hard to be tough. Lucky for him the nurse was a pro and had all four shots done in less than two seconds, so all he had time for was a few tears. Then we went to the grocery store and hooked him up with a four-pack of gum, one pack for each shot. On the car ride home he had to sample every flavor, so I had to clean up some sampled gum when we got home. Too bad vegetables don't come wrapped up like candy.

Tonight on the way to grab some dinner at Dairy Queen we passed by Henry's future school.

"Look, Dad! There's my school!"

This is Why I Love North Carolina

Monday we had some more snow. Ben stayed home and we played. The snow wasn't as deep as last time, and it was terrible for making snowmen, but Henry was excited anyway. Henry and I walked to the "dragon" park with some neighbors while Ben stayed home and caught up on some video games. At the park Henry and his friend flirted with some teenage girls and had a big snowball fight. About two hours later Ben called to make sure were were still alive, so we headed back home for lunch and hot chocolate.

The snow lingered for a few days, but then we had a nice warm front come through. I was very grateful for the free heat after freezing at the beginning of the week and opened up all the windows to warm up the house. Today it got up 75 inside. Yesterday we went to Shelly Lake and played. Henry brought along his boomerang and we took turns throwing it but never really got it to fly like it's supposed to; I guess there was too much wind. Towards the end of our walk I ended up carrying Henry's hat, sunglasses and boomerang, and Ben ended up carrying Henry. Then Henry got mad and me because I forgot to bring him a bottle of water, and wanted to know why all the water fountains were turned off. I told him it was because it was still winter time.

"No, it's not!" he said.

I had to remind him that even though it was currently 80 degrees out, it did snow on Monday.

Ah, southern living. There'll probably be an ice storm next week, just in time to kill all the daffodils.