Brotherly Love

The other night we were discussing with 8 how life will be different once the baby arrives.

The conversation turned inevitably towards dirty diapers. It is impossible for 8 to go more than a few minutes without bringing up some kind of bodily function.

"Well, you are going to help change dirty diapers, aren't you?", we asked.

"No way I'm touching those things!"

"Why not?"

"I don't want to get near the baby's poop!"

"Aren't you going to help with the baby?"

"I might pet it."

Goodbye, Mrs. Gloop. Adieu. Aufwiedersehen. Gesundheit. Farewell.

There are little things in life that give one pause. Sometimes, instead of getting worked up about the economy, the price of gas, kiddie rapers in Congress and the Krazy Koreans getting the bomb there are little moments that restore your faith in all that is good and pure and honest.
Tonight I had one of those moments. To be fair, thanks to the boys I had one of those moments. They made it clear after a few minutes of the Ravens/Broncos game that they were more interested in watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

Just to be clear, they aren't at all interested in the hideous Johnny Depp/Tim Burton crapfest. Here's a lesson for the Hollywood CrassMeisters, if given a choice between whimsical classic and a Michael Jackson allegory with Freudian overtones, they will pick the one that creeps them out the least.

Also, they love midgets. Or little people. Or whatever they prefer to be called now.

So much of what is cranked out for mass consumption today is some kind of bastardized version of something that was perfectly good way back when. Rather than letting kids watch the classic Looney Tunes, they have to spit up something called Loonatics Unleashed. There isn't a kid in America who didn't see through that cheap stunt.

How about the classic Dr. Seuss cartoons that introduced kids to The Grinch and The Cat in the Hat? They have recently been turned into live action offal. The kids today will grow up afraid of Mike Myers and Jim Carrey the same way kids of my generation grew up afraid of clowns.

I'm proud of the kids for having good taste. Not to mention this damn football game is a 3-3 barnburner after three quarters.

Fall Creek Falls: Lessons Learned

The key part of any After Action Report, is a section called Lessons Learned.

Here is what we learned after a Fall trip to the unimaginatively named Fall Creek Falls.

Lesson #1: The trip down to the base of the falls is far more enjoyable than the trip back up to the top.













Lesson #2: Sibling rivalry occurs regardless of locale, amount of surrounding natural beauty or level of exhaustion from walking back up the damn trail.









Lesson #3: Reading Atlas Shrugged to your child may have unfortunate consequences. Between striking this pose and railing about not living his life for another man and how we shouldn't sanction our own victimhood, it got a little scary.

Then at dinner, he asked his mommy to cut up his meat for him.












Lesson #4: Making a child watch Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom right before the camping trip isn't a good idea either. Unless you want a child talking like Short Round everytime you come across a swinging bridge over a river full of crocodiles.

Unfortunately, this isn't true. Despite my best efforts, he claims to hate the Indy movies.

I weep for a generation that finds Indiana Jones movies "boring". Although, I think the truth is they might have been too scary, so he has adopted a pose of general disinterest.

Lesson #5: No matter how funny we think it is, Mom gets so nervous when we get near the edge of the scenic overlook, she can't hold the camera steady. Or she learned how to take photos from watching the old Batman TV show.

The funniest bit of her panic attack over us being near the edge, was that it was only a six foot drop.



Lesson #6: Telling ghost stories around the campfire sometimes have unintended consequences.

Luckily, we packed a home exorcism kit. Thanks Department of Homeland Security! Say what you want about Right Wing Fundamentalists running the country, but when your kid gets possessed by demons or gets bitten by one of the walking undead, you'll be damn glad that your tax dollars are at work.

Lesson #7: One of the side effects of the home exorcism kit is the unfortunate tendency to put on a minstrel show when your turn to tell ghost stories comes up.


Lesson #8: No matter what a trooper she may claim to be, NEVER TAKE YOUR PREGNANT WIFE CAMPING.

Unless, you are fine with not sleeping while she describes her discomfort throughout the night and rightly blames you.