State troopers don’t have time for colored eggs

Two quick stories from the weekend.

Easter morning the wife, the Gs and I left my dad’s house for a family Easter egg hunt. It was about 10:30 a.m. Roughly 10 minutes into our drive we encountered a state trooper check-point.

On Easter Sunday. A check-point. Really?

A trooper stood on the center line. He was rotating to and fro checking licenses in both lanes of backed up traffic. I got mine out and waited. When it was our turn, I handed my plastic over. The trooper took one glance and said,

“This is an expired license.”

ME: “What? Really?”

(Trooper shows me my license. Sure enough, it expired two Fridays ago)

TROOPER: “You are an illegal driver, sir. (Looks to my wife) Do you have your license?”

WIFE: “Yes.”

TROOPER: (Doesn’t ask to see her license, but says to me) “I’m gonna have to ask you to drive up a bit and switch seats with her. You are an illegal driver.”

ME: O … K.

(I illegally operate my motor vehicle about 10 yards and pull onto the side of the road. I get out the driver’s seat and walk around to the passenger side. The wife hops the console between the seats and buckles in. Outside the window, a man wearing a cowboy hat and driving a pickup truck waves at us.

MAN: (Shouting) Sucks, don’t it!

Yeah, it did.

So Tuesday I headed to the driver’s license office for a new card. Gabby went with me. I brought along a coloring book to occupy her. After a 20 minute wait, we were called back into the main office. There were about 18 chairs in a square formation of four rows on one side of the room, the all-important DMV computer desks on the other. The chairs were hybrid desk chairs, with a small table forming from the right arm rest. Gabby took one. I took another. The rest were empty.

Another few minutes past before I was called to a desk. As I took my brief sign exam, Gabby hummed to herself behind me, still busy coloring. Other people were being called in, and soon about eight chairs had waiting occupants.

Once I finished the brief tests, the DMV officer called me over to the blue screen for a new photo. When I stood and walked over, Gabby looked up. She quickly held up her coloring and said, rather loudly,

“Look, daddy. Look what I did!”

ME: (Looking at the bird she colored) That’s looks good, sweetie. You colored a bird.

GABBY: (Again, rather loudly). That’s not a bird! It’s a parrot!

WAITING CROWND: (Smiles, giggles)

Turns out, there is humor at the DMV.

Somebody’s going through severe withdrawl

I take Gabby to daycare two mornings a week. During the 20-minute ride I try to engage her in conversation, whether it be commenting on the countryside or singing songs. Often I will begin singing, “If you’re happy and you know it.” I then fill in instructions as random as I can make them.

For instance, this past Wednesday I started up the song. I sang “If you’re happy and you know it - ,” and proceeds to say “clap your hands,” then “clap your feet,” and, finally, say, “I love you.” Gabby does them all.

Once I quieted, Gabby - for the first time - started to sing the song herself. She then filled in the “whatcha gotta do” part. Here is her song. It starts as you’d expect.

“If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘poo poo.’ (poo-poo!)
If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘poo poo.’ (poo-poo!)
If you happy and u know then face will show, if you’re happy and you know say, ‘poo poo.’” (poo-poo!)

“If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘Yosef.’ (Yosef!)
If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘Yosef.’ (Yosef!)
If you happy and u know then face will show, if you’re happy and you know say, ‘Yosef.’” (Yosef!)

“If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘cheerleaders.’ (cheerleaders!)
If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘cheerleaders.’ (cheerleaders!)
If you happy and u know then face will show, if you’re happy and you know say, ‘cheerleaders.’” (cheerleaders!!)

“If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘the football team.’ (the football team!)
If you’re happy and you know it, say ‘the football team.’ (the football team!)
If you happy and u know then face will show, if you’re happy and you know say, ‘the football team.’” (the football team!)

After that fourth refrain, Gabby grew momentarily silent. Then she said, “Daddy take me to the football game.”

I had to grin. “Sorry sweetie, but there are no football games right now. The football team is night night.”

Her reply was a bit distressed, “I want to go to the football game.”

“Well, maybe one day we’ll go to the …… baseball game! Would you like to go to a baseball game.”

Pause. “Uh-huh.” (translation, if that’s all there is).

Yes, I have created a monster.

Eating Skittles with Jesus

One of Gabby’s favorite snacks is Skittles. She gets a small cup every Sunday during Sunday School at church.

Yesterday, she was in the midst of enjoying such a cup as we looked for a seat for the worship service. The wife, Teen, and the Teen’s friend squeezed into a pew that unknown to them had no room for us two, so we sat in the left-hand set of pews. As we stood to sing the first hymn, Gabby saw her friend, M, in the pew in front of us. She ventured off that way. I didn’t deter her, but kept her in view as the congregation sang.

Within seconds, she and M left their seats to sit a few pews back with another little friend. Again, I didn’t mind. I kept singing. In mid-song, M’s momma showed up. Being a member of the choir, she walked to the alter to take her seat mid-song. Her daughter followed.

And, of course, so did Gabby.

As the church sang, Gabby scampered up on stage and stood with M and M’s momma. She looked around, smiled and ate a couple of Skittles. When the song ended, everyone sat down. Gabby saw an empty chair and took it. She didn’t seem to mind it was the chair up front to the left of the preacher’s lectern.

As a deacon took the alter to welcome everyone, a sweet lady behind me tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “You should take a picture of her up there. She looks so cute. You’ll want to remember this.”

Of course, my weekly Sunday ritual does not involve carrying a camera to church (Forgive me Marie). So I just smiled and took in the sight of Gabby nonchalantly getting up and saying hello to another friend sitting with her momma in the choir. After a few seconds of whispering, she returned to her seat to the pastor’s left to eat more Skittles.

As the deacon was finishing up the announcements, Gabby decided she wanted company. She slipped off her seat, stood at the alter and said, “Momma? Where are you momma?”

That was my cue. I got up and, trying not to be too disruptive, I picked her up and we sat in that all-too-prominent chair. Before I could get comfortable, it was time for another song. Thus I made my choir debut - beside M’s mom, reading her hymnal, holding a cutie in a yellow dress, white tights and a face smeared with rainbows.

When the song was done, we again sat. The deacon started taking prayer requests. Gabby got antsy. “Daddy, I want some water.”

“In a minute, sweetie,” I whispered. “In a minute.”

“I want some water now, da-da! I need it!”

Seeking not to steal attention from those in real need, I stood and carried her off the alter. We headed downstairs to the water cooler and then the nursery. Children’s church would start soon.

After the service, two men of the choir approached me. “About time we got you on stage. We’re gonna have to get Gabby up there every Sunday if it will get you singing with us.”

Bring your cameras. But you will leave that tape recorder home.

Time to see the cows again

The Popcorn fam is lucky enough to live down the road from a massive cow pasture. About 15 to 20 smelly hamburgers roam the field. Last summer, it became a habit of mine to take Gabby in a wagon up the hill To See The Cows.

Once it got cold, the trip went into hibernation. Yesterday, it returned, only this time with Big G. All three of us went To See The Cows.

When we got up the hill (about a 15-20 minute walk), the cows were all by the roadside against their barbed barrier. They ma-OOOOED! as we arrived. I sat Gavin down in the grass as Gabby ma-OOOOED! back. It’s always great to see old friends!

A minute after we arrived, a man drove up in a pickup. He pulled into the grass beside us. In his truck were several beige burlap sacks. The cows headed his way.

The man got out his truck, said hello, grabbed a bag and opened it. He then walked along the fence dumping out the contents - bread, buns and chocolate doughnuts. He made five piles, and the cows attacked them all.

“Look,” I told Gabby. “He’s feeding the cows dinner. Look what the cows are eating. They’re eating doughnuts!”

Gabby responded. “Cows don’t eat doughnuts. Cows eat HAY!”

I think even the man with the pickup laughed at that.

I tried to get a photo of the G’s with the cows behind them, but Gabby kept looking away. So I finally settled for this shot.

As soon as I hit the “take” button on my phone, I heard to my left a wet bovine bowel blast. A cow was making room. I turned to see Gabby pointing at the cow and making a face.

“OOoooooooo,” I said to Gabby. “That cow just went potty!”

Gabby appeared to be slightly in shock. “Nasty,” was all she said.

The stranger with the pickup just stood and smiled at all this. He said goodbye and went to go back in his truck.

“Bye,” said Gabby, turning toward him. “Thanks for feeding the cows!”

“You’re welcome,” he said, still laughing.

Gonna be a fun spring.

Go to sleep … Go to sleep .. PLEASE GO TO SLEEP

Here’s the drill.

Big G gets whiny around 6:50ish. By 7:00, if not attended too, he becomes a police siren with failing batteries. WAAAaaaaaaa. (deep breath). WAAAaaaaaaa.

One 12-ounce bottle and some rockin later, he’s usually out by 7:40, 8 tops.

Then comes the hard party. Gabby.

She will not go gently into that goodnight. Nap. No nap. Early dinner. Late snack. Long bath. Short bath. Rocking chair. Laying with her in her bed. TV on. TV off. Book. No Book. Doesn’t matter.

She. Will. Not. Go. To. Sleep.

It’s getting worse. Here’s her schedule this week:

Monday - She was up at 7, had a two hour nap at 1, and was up until 10:30.

Tuesday - She was up at 7ish. Wife allowed her no nap. I took her to town with me that evening, and she nodded off for about 20 minutes from 6ish to 6:30ish. Up until 11:15ish.

Wednesday - She was up at 8. Wife allowed no nap. At about 5ish on the way to town (see a pattern?), she conked out for about 30 minutes. At 7:30 she acted sleepy. Yet was up until 10:30.

This isn’t just the time change. It’s been a growing menace for some time. I’m seriously thinking of investing in tranquilizer darts, but I’m scared I’ll waste them on the Teen instead.

LOST is on tonight, so I may have to take really drastic measures. I may have to read her this. (Always works for me)

How cool is this cool quarterback

I’ve told this story to a couple friends, who since insist I repeat it for their friends. Seeing as it appears to be popular, I’ll share it with you.

A couple of weeks ago Gabby’s boyfriend had a birthday party. He’s a big ASU football fan (like son, like father), and his dad invited some ASU players to the shindig. Four showed up for pizza - CoCo Hillary, Leonard Love, Robert Welton and Jerome Touchstone. The party took place at the Holmes Center prior to a basketball game.

Big G with Leonard Love and Jerome Touchstone

After the pizza and presents, the players went their own way and the birthday party group camped out beside the pep band (Birthday boy looooovvvves the pep band). Lo and behold, sometime during the game Armanti “Superman” Edwards came our way and joined the party. This was akin to Tim Tebow showing up at a Florida basketball game, or Tyler Hansbrough at a UNC football game, and just hanging with some toddlers.

Kids love Armanti

Armanti sat with us for most of the game, signing autographs, posing for photos and playing catch with the birthday boy. For a kid turning four, what better way to celebrate then being Hans Batichon to Armanti’s short bombs (they were tossing a stress basketball).

Simulated game situation

Sometime during the late game maddness (ASU lost at the buzzer), Armanti disappeared as quietly as he arrived. The birthday boy’s parents couldn’t have been prouder. Any ASU football fan would be.

Now here’s the cool part of the story.

The next day at church I was talking to a youngster about the game. I asked if he went. The fifth-grader missed it. Needling him, I said too bad. Armanti sat with us at the game. You could have met him!

His reply, “I see Armanti all the time. My mom drops me off at the campus library after school every day to do my homework. Armanti is always in there, reading to kids. I see him all the time.”

Thought No. 1 - We cheer the coolest quarterback evah!

Thought No. 2 - I wonder if I can get the ASU cheerleaders to Gabby’s birthday party in June?

There’s a new super hero in town

Sunday Night at the Popcorn residence. I’m at the dining room table feeding Big G some creamed green beans (Yum!). Gabby is busy coloring in her room with markers. Suddenly a cry is heard!

Gabby: I’m SPIDER-MAN!!!

Me: What’s that sweetie?

Gabby: (Still unseen in her room) I’m SPIDER-MAN!!

ME: I wanna see Spider-Man. Come here.

Gabby: (Runs into the dining room area, not a stitch of cotton on but smeared with inks. She jumps at me and shouts) I’M SPIDER-MAN!!!!

ME: (Laughing) Wow …. Look mom! Spider-Man! And she’s got the right colors and everything. Red and blue markers. Good job.

Wife: Don’t worry. Those are non-toxic, washable markers.

Gabby: (Runs madly around the living room shouting) I’m SPIDER-MAN!!!

(One hour later Gabby takes a bath. We find that said markers are not, in fact, washable. More like fadeable, but not washable)

Songs you aren’t supposed to sing

Life with a teenager (13 going on 20!) is 80% irritation, 15% aggravation and 5% amusing observation. Count this as among the slim fun moments.

The Teen was on the computer roaming around YouTube, seeking videos for songs she likes. I stepped into the room with some clean laundry to put away. I heard Phil Collins playing. He was singing one of my favorite songs, so I started to sing along (horribly offkey, of course).

Well I remember, I remember don’t worry
How could I ever forget, its the first time, the last time we ever met

The Teen snapped at me. “HOW do YOU know this song!”

I grinned. “It’s Phil Collins. In the Air Tonight. Awesome song.”

In The Air Tonight then vanished in The Air That Night. I have yet to hear it since.

Nothing makes a cool song uncool faster than a grownup knowing it.

He likes it! Hey Luigi!

Obligatory “it’s been awhile” sentence here. Anticipated snarky Katie Bonk response expected below (any day now).

Big G was a guest at a birthday party recently. Caught with no baby food on hand (alert Dr. Spock), we let the big boy dig in to some Dominos greasy goodness (alert DSS!).

And yes, he loved it. I only wish I could say his digestive system agreed (alert HAZMAT!)

That’s my boyfriend!

That was Gabby’s loud response upon seeing this photo at the BRB. Yea Joan, No. 47 is my No. 1 shown sharing some M&Ms with her No. 2 (I’m her No. 1 too. Understand?)

Some background on the photo. Those are actually Gabby’s M&Ms. Which goes to prove that what’s her’s is actually his, and she’d better ask to have some!

Epilogue - The young man’s dad called me yesterday to say that the future Mr. Gabby has strep throat. I got home later to find Gabby with a snotty nose and bad cough. Geez. She’s not even in school and already I have to talk with her about safe M&Ms. Life is too complicated these days.