And the Worm Said "Wheeeeeeee!"

In which your humble narrator ventures out and digs up some Oligochaeta.

Since the weather has broken we've ventured out into the yard again. On a recent trip to Target, the children demanded that we purchase watermelon seeds for the garden. Sure, kids, why not? Nobody likes watermelon that much, but why should that stop us from growing tons of the stuff?

While the progeny amused themselves in the yard I began to dig up the sad little strip of earth that some day will be a watermelon patch. Hoo, doggie there were a lot of worms. So I think to myself, "kids love worms!"

"Hey, kids!" I exclaimed, "come look at these worms!"

Both children obediently trundled over to get a load of the squirming masses. Neither was particularly squeamish, and soon both were carrying worms to and fro about the yard.

It wasn't until several minutes later that I looked up to Child #2 happily chattering to her wriggling earth worm while standing to next to the little kiddie slide that we had earlier hauled out of the garage.

"Here you go, worm," she said, "you go down the slide. I'll give you a push."

Damn You, Elton John

In which your humble narrator explains how, according to Child #1, an aging British pop sensation soiled his bath tub.

I was sitting in the bathroom giving Child #1 a bath tonight. They have some bath markers, you know, for the funness. Child #1 picks up the red marker and starts scribbling all over the side of the tub. Conversation went as follows:

Child #1: This is Elton John's blood.
Me: Wait, what?
Child #1: This is Elton John's blood, all over the tub.
Me: How did Elton John's blood get all over the tub?
Child #1: (Waits, pondering, then:) Elton John was in the tub and he cracked.
Me: You are so weird it makes my hair hurt.

I'm pretty sure that the boys at preschool have something to do with his recent blood fixation. Either that or he's a vampire. Whatever.

The Salience of Rain Gear

In which your humble narrator goes to the library with his offspring and is caught between opposing tides of activists in his usually quiet neighborhood.

It's raining and cold (still) so after dropping Wife-a-roo at her place of employment, I drove the children back to the neighborhood, but detoured to the library a few blocks from our house.

The library is across the street from Planned Parenthood.

Today is Good Friday. I had, of course forgotten this. A pleasant (and tiny) police officer waved us into the Library/Rec Center lot after I rolled down my window and cheerfully explained that we were just here for the picture books, thank you.

Both camps were marching around in their little penned-in enclosures soliciting honks from passing drivers and waving placards. Both children spent a fair amount of time looking at the spectacle as we climbed the steps up to the library entrance.

Child #2's only comment on the circus-like atmosphere? "Look, that lady has a pink umbrella! I like it!"

Your List of Lists

In which your humble narrator taxonomizes awesomeness. 

It's a March round-up, y'all. First up:

Things that are Awesome

• Archer
• Fat Tire
• Chili-Mac from scratch
• Brunch with friends whose children play with our children largely unsupervised

Things that Are Awesome but Sad

• When Child #1 describes his stomach bug which produced a lot of diarrhea with the statement: "My bottom is sick."

Things that are Awesome by virtue of the longevity and consistency of their Awesomeness

• David Bowie

Things that are not Awesome

• March Snow
• Wife-a-roo's "raise"
• Trader Joe's parking lots. They are designed by the Architecture Firm of Satan, Satan, & Beelzebub.

Airing Out the Winter-Musty Children

In which your humble narrator decamps from the old homestead.

It hit 40 degrees and the sun came out so the children and I left the house on booted feet to inspect the melt in the neighborhood.

Here they are pictured pontificating on some mud. A good time was had by all.

On our way past the local parochial school I overheard one small boy indignantly retort to another, "I'm not a little kid! I'm six and a half, and I play violent video games!"

No Rest for the Weary

In which your humble narrator realizes that he has spoken too soon.

Apparently one of our former Republican legislators who found himself out of job when the Pawlenty administration closed up shop managed to have himself appointed a Regent of the University in addition to his part-time gig in the Humphrey School of Public Affairs.*

From Tim Post's piece at MPR:

"At today’s board meeting Sviggum apologized to his new colleagues for putting them in an awkward position.  But he told them he didn’t think his work as an instructor and a regent would conflict."

Oh, gosh no. Just take his word for it.

I'm begging you University, please stop. I'd like to go back to writing about my kids' insanity, snot and verbal abilities some time soon.

*Where he pulls in 80k per year. Part time. 

More Woes at The U

In which your humble narrator wonders what embarrassment to expect next.

It continues to be a lousy week at the University of Minnesota. I mean on top of previous issues.

Big budget cuts are coming, preceded by the corporatist weasel words we've all come to expect.

We're number four! We're number four! We're the fourth most corrupt athletic program in the country!

Oh, and a math professor from a lesser local University punched Goldy in the head.

At least next week is spring break. So we've probably got a week's reprieve from embarrassing scandal. I'm going to spend my time grading some papers in a modest, professional manner without embezzling, assaulting or humiliating anyone. You're welcome, University.