The Calvinator

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< > September 2006

• Fri, Sep 22, 2006 12:00 PM

  Examples
  
  FUNNY:
  
  Calvin: "Papa, there's your mom!"
  
  Joep: "Huh? Where?"
  
  Calvin: "HA HA, I made ya look!"
  
  
  
  
  SO NOT FUNNY:
  
  Calvin: "Mama, there's a spider on your shirt."
  
  Me: *Incoherent screaming and flailing* "WHAT?!?!?!?! WHERE?!?!?!"
  
  Calvin: "HA HA, I made ya look!"
  
  
  
  
  FUNNY:
  
  Calvin going to live with Grandma now.

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  ---

• Tue, Sep 5, 2006 6:00 AM

  I Will Never Eat Another Hamburger
  
  So our little family has been sideswiped by a nasty chest cold the past few days. A nasty chest cold that is capable of producing lethal amounts of phlegm that shred your esophagus as it tears its way through your system.
  
  A nasty chest cold that feels as though one of the cats crawled down your throat and had a seizure; complete with drool and sharp claws. Plus, I suddenly went from an alto to a bass; leading strangers to think my sex change operation this weekend was a success.
  
  And if that doesn't sound like we have the right to pray for a quick mercy killing, throw in Calvin's never-ending whining and, well, I don't think there's a judge in the world that would deny us that request. While the rest of the country was enjoying a 3-day weekend, 66% of which was sunny and pleasant, we were dodging screams that bounced off the living room walls and shattered windows in houses 5 doors down.
  
  I don't blame him, though. I can't tell you how many times this weekend I wanted to lie down and alert the world to my discomfort much like Calvin did. When we treated him to mini-golf on Monday, I came thisclose to chucking my golf club at other people for no good reason other than I was just cranky. The only mature person was, as usual, Joep. He's the only one keeping Calvin & me safe from being locked up for public disturbance.
  
  Thank you, Joep. I've submitted your application for sainthood.
  
  Surprisingly enough, however, I haven't even mentioned the worst part yet. The part that makes me want to run away screaming into the night. The part that Joep loves to use to torture me as he laughs with glee. You know what? Just a sec, I have to go shred that application...
  
  The part where Calvin has learned (somewhat) how to use a Kleenex and, therefore, dig out his own nose's contents. Hold on, I have to pause for a moment to suppress my gag reflex.
  
  Do you want to know what he calls his finds? Burgers. He calls them burgers. Which would be cute to any other person who doesn't have an inexplicable aversion to what's in a nose.
  
  (If it's true that hell is personalized, my hell will be full of toenails and boogers and no hand sanitizer.)
  
  So as if the chest of fire and subsequent hacking up of the lungs wasn't bad enough, I spent most of my weekend focusing very intently on keeping my breakfast where it belonged. While Joep laughed maliciously nearby; waiting with a soiled Kleenex.

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