Flashback Sunday: on Monday

Sam usually does the blog- but yesterday he was so busy putting down the wood floor in our kitchen that he didn't get a chance. So I'm trying out this newfandangled technology.

First I would just like to say (and all you parents of toddlers should be able to empathize) that Yo Gabba Gabba is the scariest show on television. It's on Nickelodeon each morning at 9:30, and if there's ever been a show that evidences someone's brain on drugs, this is it. I'll be cleaning the house (yeah, right) and the tv is on in the background, and suddenly I get this strange feeling- like I've just entered the twilight zone or I've been teleported to a really bad episode of Star Trek. My first thought is always that aliens have invaded. The eeriness of the show catches me off guard- every day! Beckham (our 20-month old) by this time is usually standing an inch from the television screen, with swirling spirals in his eyes (think hypnotized WB cartoon character). If I catch it in time, I run to tackle him, shielding his eyes as we topple to the floor and yank the plug out of the wall. But once in a while, I'm too late. And before I know it, we are both sitting within an inch of the screen, and a couple of days have gone by. And we haven't eaten.

Good idea for a date night: Tivo the opening of Yo Gabba Gabba and watch it over and over. To be used only under adult supervision!



Secondly: meet Dave, our contractor extraordinaire. When I was uploading our latest batch of family pictures, I came across this gem. Apparently when I'm not home, he takes pictures of himself with our camera. So I told him he was going to be banished to our blog for the infraction.

Dave is the best craftsman around. But I'm afraid he gives me too much credit as to my handiness. He comes to me each time he encounters a problem. He hasn't noticed, but I've been recycling the same three questions each time we talk. They are: 1) What's a -------? 2) Is that bad? 3) Can we do anything about it?

Example:
Dave: We have a problem. The cabinets have a toe-kick.
Brodi: What's a toe-kick? (At this point I zone out because I know the answer will sound very foreign)
Dave: It's a blah blah blah. And it means we won't have a vent.
Brodi: Is that bad?
Dave: Well, vents provide heat and air conditioning.
Brodi: So that's bad?
Dave: If you want heat, yeah.
Brodi: Is there anything we can do about it?
Dave: Well I guess we could blah blah blah blah blah.
Brodi: Great. Let's do it. Glad I could help.

Although lately I think my stupidity is beginning to sink in. He asked me for some duct tape, and when I paused to think about where it would be, he told me it's like masking tape, only it's silver and wider. Kay, Dave, I know what duct tape is! But I can see how he would assume.

Carter cute comment: We have half our wood floor in, and this morning we awoke to find Carter, sitting serenely in the middle of the floor, just staring. We don't know how long he had been there. When he saw us, he said, "Dad, this is so cool."

And as for a flashback:
On our family vacation to Jackson Hole this summer, Beckham was a little out of sorts. He would wake up at all hours of the night, and scream to be let out of his crib. Early one morning, we gave in and took him out of bed. Sam went to make him a bottle, and when he came back, he found Beckham flat on his tummy, face down, his Bootie (read blanket) wrapped around his head, completely asleep. Sure, give him a comfy crib with, heaven forbid, a mattress, and he cries abuse. A hard dirty floor, however? He's gone.