Tuesday, July 21, 2009


Random had a sticker on her shirt today, and I asked her, "Hey, who's on your shirt?"


"No, you mean Snoopy."

"Yeah! Poopy!"

I don't know if she's messing with us or what. She's perfectly capable of saying Gamble, but she still calls him "Bubbles." So now we call that dog Poopy.

Pinking You Up

Gamble likes his Monopoly. It's no secret that he asked for his room to be painted the exact shade of the Monopoly $20 bill (mint green, to Mommie's chagrin).

And he likes this money so much that when we play, he pays with every other kind of bills. First he gets rid of the pink fives, a process known as "pinking up". The conversation might run thus:

Daddie: Ok, Gamble, that'll be $26 for rent on Pacific Avenue.

Gamble: Sure. Five fives and a one.

Daddie: Just give me a $20, a five and a one.

Gamble: No, Daddie. I'm not giving up my greens. I'm pinking you up.

Daddie. Ok, then. I'm going to pink you up next time, then.

Gamble: NOOOooooo!

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Quickie Blogs

I can't believe how long the lag is between writing these now. It happens, I guess. We start up a project with the best of intentions and five years later (five years? Oh my!) things just peter out. Some things become more important, and other things just... slip.

There've been quite a few things that I made a note to write about. Maybe I have already. Maybe I haven't. I looked back a few months and didn't see any of these back there, so I thought I'd blast them out quickly.

Gamble's doing great with story problems. He does math on the phone with Nic's folks all the time. Things like ok, take five hundred minus twice thirty. He does it in his head, and he mostly gets it done right. It's pretty amazing, watching him work.

Gamble and I built a clock. A digital clock made from a kit, with something like 50 LEDs (the LEDs were blue, and too bright, but we're going to cover the clock with yellow construction paper, which both mutes the lights and turns them green.

Sometimes if we're cross with him, Gamble gets embarrassed and down on himself. He'll slink back in and say something like, "Sorry, Daddie." The other day, he came in and said, "Sorry I've been so S-H-I-T-Y." Ok, gold stars for using the word correctly in a sentence; demerits for spelling.

Also Pobbes pooped in the tub again. No more fun cleaning up a second time, that's for sure. Number two, #2, I say.