Subdivided We Stand Meets Marathon Man

Here We Go

Ugh, that was a brutal weekend for the local teams. 

Here's a little something to take away the bad taste of the weekend, though -- a photo gallery of the kids in their Steelers gear.

Wubbsy, Wubbsy, Wubbsy

Adam was goofing around on the computer last night, and I happened to spot our camera nearby and took some video.  This is our photo camera, mind you, and not a video camera, so the quality is pretty lousy, but it's fun nonetheless.

Since the audio is so poor, here's a transcription:

1:20 -- "Ow" (a coconut fell on his character's head)
1:14 -- "Ow, ow, owie" (more coconuts)
0:54 -- "Ow -- I don't want you, mister" (Coconut, then the sudden appearance of a new character)
0:49 -- "Ahhhh, that was a ball!"
0:28 -- "Ow"
0:27 -- "That's disgusted"  ("Disgusting" and "disgusted" are his new favorite words -- odd, given that his favorite topics of discussion lately, specifically poop and boogers, are, in fact, disgusting but never described as such by Adam.  Only things like vegetables or mommy and daddy kissing actually qualify as "disgusting".)
0:14 -- "Wubbsy -- Wubbsy Wubbsy Wubbsy, Wubbsy Wubbsy Wubbsy"

Nothin' From Nothin' Leaves Nothin'

Adam has been on a numbers kick lately.  For example, he likes to count all of the sections of fence around the pool we go to, or all the legs on the whump in "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish."

I suppose that's pretty typical, and Kate has been starting to pick up some of the same tendencies.  She was counting the strands of spaghetti that she had plucked off her plate and arranged side-by-side on the table the other night.

Adam spent a few days fascinated by the concept of "zero."  He would ask me over and over again if certain things were zero.  Sometimes it seemed like he had the concept, other times...well...

Julie's mom and dad sponser a child in South America.  Bolivia, I believe, but I could be wrong there.  Believe it or not, his name is..."Melvin."  I wouldn't have thought that there were any Melvins to be found in your Latin American countries, but there he is -- or a picture of him is, anyway, posted on Julie's mom's fridge.

It was my intention, and I'm sure Julie's as well (although we never discussed it) to never use the "eat your food because there are starving children in (insert third-world country here)" tactic that was so common among our parents' generation.  For one thing, it never works (the classic response is "WELL SEND THIS BROCCOLI TO THEM THEN!"), and for another, it just kind of seems...I dunno...demeaning somehow. 

But Julie's mom is from another generation.  Furthermore, both her parents are unbelievably generous in helping us out with the kids, so when her mom started with the "eat this, because poor Melvin doesn't have enough food to eat" or "play with this toy or I'm sending it to Melvin because he doesn't have anything" comments, I let it slide.  Adam eventually picked up on the theme, and would frequently tell me "Melvin doesn't have anything, daddy." 

The other day, during the "zero" fascination, Adam took it a step further.  To wit...

"Daddy, Melvin doesn't have anything.  Melvin is a zero."

Of course, that led into a brief discussion about the value of human life, etc., but I'm pretty sure the boy saw me trying to stifle my shameful laughter.

Speaking of shameful, I am filled with nothing but the deepest shame for the nickname for Melvin that I share only with Julie, and now with you:  Starvin' Melvin.  There, I said it.  I'm not proud of the fact that I giggle like a schoolgirl every time I say it, but that's just the kind of person I am, I guess.

Oh, and while we're on the concept of zero, "zero" is exactly what Adam was wearing the other day when I had to chase him around the yard.  We had the sprinkler out, and the kids were running through in their little swimmies -- right up until the point when Adam decided to go all Woodstock on us and run around naked.  Frankly, I would've just let him go, but the neighborhood was all in a tizzy a few years ago when another neighbor used to let her kids run naked in the yard. 

Anyway, it was a couple of minutes before I could catch him.  The boy has some moves, I'll give him that.

Changing gears entirely, I'm working on a treatment for a new tv series that I hope to pitch to the networks.  I'm having trouble deciding on a title -- please let me know which you prefer:

• America's Most Flatulent
• So You Think You Can Fart
• Farting With the Stars

Livin' the (Idle)Wild Life

Scenes from a Sunday at Idlewild Park...

(Click any picture to enlarge)

Delicious But Deadly

Isle of Sodor (AP):  In a development that has sent shockwaves through this tiny island, Station Controller Sir Toppham Hatt announced that James the Red Engine has been recalled, and will be melted down for scrap.

While the death sentence has been discussed before in relations to the crimson #5 engine, for offenses such as crashing into a tar engine, or breaking a coach's brake pipe (an incident made less egregious by the judicious use of a passenger's bootlace), Hatt has repeatedly spared James, proclaiming him to be a "Really useful, albeit sometimes high-spirited, engine."

Most of the engines on the Sodor line have refused comment, although it has long been believed that James is less than popular among his colleagues, owing to his boastful nature and inordinate pride in his red paint -- a feature that has led him to believe, incorrectly, that he is not meant to pull anything other than coaches.

Speaking under the cover of anonymity, a close associate of James muttered, "Good riddance to bootstrap boy.  He wasn't without his merits, of course, but he certainly wasn't anywhere near as important as the fastest engine on Sodor.  Poop poop!"

James' execution will be the first to be carried out since the controversial  1997 Skarloey meltdown.

Where Is Your God Now?

Things the boy has said recently:

• "Sugarbutt."  (His new nickname for his mother.  I swear that he did not pick that up from me -- he came up with it on his own.)
• (Pointing to a drawing of a goat in the Dr. Seuss classic, "Fox in Socks")...
  Adam:  "Daddy, where do baby goats come from?"
  Me:  "From their mommy and daddy."
  Adam:  "Can I watch you and mommy make a baby?"
  Me:  "No, son."
• "You're not my fr....you're not my fr....YOU'RE NOT MY GOD!"  (As I'm struggling to pull a shirt over his head.  He was originally going for "you're not my friend," which is a frequent comment whenever he doesn't get his way.  Where the "God" thing came from I have no idea...)

The First Cut is the Deepest

Kate had a little run-in with a kitchen cabinet on Saturday night, and unfortunately the cabinet won -- to the tune of five stitches:

I'm happy to report, however, that the girl is pretty badass -- she cried for about 10 seconds after receiving a laceration that went through to the bone, then laughed and sang on our drive to the emergency room.

The doctors predicted that she'd probably go nuts when they swaddled her down, and again when they inserted the needles, but they were wrong.  Our tough little soldier just lay there and made a teeny little frowny face.  The picture above is from this morning, and it looks as though two of the stitches have already fallen out on their own.

And since the boy refused to let Kate have her picture taken without one of him, here's Adam making a face, much as he has for every picture we've taken of him for the last year.

Happy 4th Birthday, A-Man

Aww yeah -- Happy #4 to Adam.

Here's a shot from the day he was born...

He's a little under 1 year old here, in one of my favorite pictures ever...

Second birthday...

From birthday #3....

And one from his fourth birthday party.  (That's my dad in the middle.  Only 79 years older than the A-man!)

Other Adam

A quick update regarding the boy...

Adam (our 4-year-old, for you newcomers), has a new friend.

A new, rascally, and altogether imaginary friend.  His name?  "Other Adam."

We don't know a whole heck of a lot about Other Adam at this point, but he does like to spend his time hiding out underneath the dining room table, and he gets a bit miffed when we forget to take him along with us on our walks.

I'm completely new to this imaginary friend thing, so I'd love to hear from anyone with experience in this area.  It's actually pretty entertaining, and harmless, so we'll have fun with it for a while.  Last night during our walk, after Other Adam had been invited to join us, Real Adam turned to me and said, "Other Adam is just for pretend, daddy," so it's pretty clear that this is no big deal. 

Mrs. Subdivided reported that Adam has a new game during bedtime.  Specifically, he likes to pull down the elastic on his jammie bottoms and say, and I quote, "Peepee, mommy!" while exposing his junk.  He even hollered it at her as she was walking down the stairs last night.

If there was any doubt as to who the boy's dad is, it's erased now.  We take turns putting the boy to bed, so we'll see if "Peepee daddy" is on the agenda for tonight.  Personally, I'm hoping that this is reserved for mommy.

C'mon back tomorrow for the beginning of a new series -- a little thing I like to call "Classic Rock Albums That You Think Suck But That Really Don't Suck."  We'll kick off the series with the first Boston album.  Others in the series will include the first Foreigner album, Neil Young's "Trans," Steve Miller's "Book of Dreams," and others.  Later, we may dip our toes into the 80's, beginning with Men at Work's "Cargo."

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Also, if you're headed to the polls in PA today, and you should be, there's likely to be an important ballot question on your slate regarding property and income taxes.  It's complicated, but this guide from the Post-Gazette should be able to help you come to the correct conclusion. 

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UPDATE:  Let's all pause a few minutes and remember Jerry Falwell the way he would've wanted to be remembered -- as a total wackjob willing to point the finger at his favorite strawman without regard to fact, reason, or sense, all in order to advance his agenda and line his pockets.  See you in hell, douchenozzle!

May Day

Sorry for the lack of posting recently -- I'm sure every blogger occasionally goes through the blogging doldrums, and that's what's happening here lately.

There is a cure in sight, however.  Look for a major Subdivided/Marathon blogging announcement shortly.  (Well, as major as any Subdivided/Marathon announcement can be, anyway.)

In the meantime, here's a picture of a couple of cool kids who we found hanging around our house the other day...