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Toy Poppers and the Crazy Penis Boy

I have to say this first. I feel like a Giant Loser Dad for leaving Quinn (and Bryce) at swim lessons to go do my work-out. When I entered the pool area, all I saw was a wet, tearful Quinn clinging to Kristen, and Kristen ripping into the "lifeguard" for not paying attention. We've been in contact with as many people in positions of authority at the Y as we possibly can, with more cages to rattle in the next few days. We will do our damndest to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. I still feel like a pathetic excuse for a dad. Christ, that was scary.

Kids being kids, yesterday's scare was (just about) off the radar screen today, and Bryce was in rare form (most likely from sleep deprivation as a huge thunderstrom came through the area at 3:00 am knocking out the power and waking both kids. They both wound up in our bed for the final 2 hours of the night. Nobody slept at all well after that.) I was doing the breakfast dishes and tidying up the kitchen (Kristen thinks I look fab in an apron) when Bryce came into the kitchen with pencil in hand and demanded asked for a piece of paper.

Me: Are you going to draw something?
Bryce: NO. I need to make a sign. For my door.
Me: OK. (handing him a piece of paper)
Bryce: How do you spell "Don't"?
Me: d - o - n - t
Bryce: How do you spell "come"?
Me: What kind of sign are you making?
Bryce: The kind of sign that will keep Quinn out of my room so he will stop bothering me! I want it to say "Don't come in!" so he will stay out and not bother me! How do you spell the next word?
I spelled it out for him and he wrote it. Of course he put his name at the top as he was taught in school.

Then he got some tape and taped it to his door and brought Quinn over and said "This sign says 'don't come in.' That means you can't come in my room, Quinn. You have to obey the sign." Quinn looked at the sign, turned around, and came downstairs. I guess I'll be making some signs.

Do you know those little rubber toy poppers? The ones you kind of turn inside out, lay flat on a hard surface and wait for it to pop up into the air? Bryce brought one home from summer school today and was popping it all over the place. He soon learned that you could put it up against your cheek, push on it, and it would stick. Then he started to improvise quite creatively.

Bryce went first in the bath tonight. Wash, rinse, dry in record time. I set him up to brush his teeth and put Quinn in the bathtub. As I was lathering his hair, Bryce turned around and yelled: "Hey Dad! Look at me! I'm Crazy Penis Boy!" Sure enough, he had put the bright purple popper on the tip of his penis.
I kept waiting for him to say, "Now give me some candy!" When has he had time to watch Saturday Night Live re-runs anyway?

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