Imaginary Friends

 Each of our kids has had an imaginary friend at some point. James had Hobbes. Also, Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin's Hobbes was a different talking stuffed tiger than his own Hobbes. I couldn't tell them apart, and I'm not sure he could either. But he needed two Hobbeses (and a Calvin) while he played baseball in the backyard with all of them.

Owen's imaginary friends have, of course, all been based off of James. Sometimes it was George. Sometimes it was Hobbes. But he never really lived in the world of his imaginary friends the way James did--he just used them to explain why he'd gotten into trouble. (Hobbes TOLD me hang out of the second story bathroom window and scoop snow off the roof to throw at my brothers.) 

That happened this week. Apparently it wasn't even the first time.

Felix, however, has a very strong and constant imaginary friend. He talks to him all the time and insists that we talk to him too. 

Dosh Awwen.

(Josh Allen)

A couple of things. I usually translate kidspeak into mostly normal English, because it takes way to long to decipher phonetically what the kids are saying if I write it out as I hear it. 

E.g. "No dans fuh' kee' cheggin' nah."=="No thanks for taking a nap." Or "Awy' heeya anna spinny cheah, Owe'."== "I'm right here on the spinny chair, Owen."

But I think for Felix's interactions with Dosh Awwen/Josh Allen you might need to see how it actually sounds to get the full flavor. Also, I'm crushed and disappointed that the amazing ride of the Bills' 2020 season is over. And there will be no live blog of the Super Bowl this year. I'm not going listen to three and a half hours of football heads swooning over Brady in his 10th Super Bowl. I will live blog myself building a model ship in the basement next Sunday evening.

Anyway, here's a sample of Felix with his best friend, Dosh Awwen.

"Dosh Awwen wansa ta' sum more pishers." Josh Allen wants to take some more pictures. (J allowed Felix to help shoot a picture of her lunch, and Josh Allen REALLY liked being allowed to touch the nice camera.)

"Dosh Awwen pees n' poops inna potty." Josh Allen pees and poops in the potty. (Usually this is an excuse for why Felix doesn't need to.)

Dosh Awwen wuns n' fwoze it. Josh Allen runs and throws it.

Awwen duzn shaiw wi'me, he ony fwoze it to Co' Beezwy. Allen doesn't share it with me, he only throws it to Cole Beasley.

Awwen tol' me to do it. (Caught playing with the curtains, which he isn't supposed to do.)

Awwen tol' me I tould. (Caught pulling all of the cushions off of the spinny chair.)

DOSH AWWEN PWAYS FOR A PATWIOTS! (This is when he's feeling particularly angry about something, or pretty much whenever he's being put down for naptime/bedtime.)

D'vil Singewtawy keeps jumpin' ovuh him, bu' kees catchn' a pass. Devin Singletary keeps jumping over him, but keeps catching the pass.

Awwen says Co' Beezwy tan buhp on him knees. Allen says Cole Beasley can burp on his knees.

Awwen wikes coo'ies n' buh-uh-yo wins. Allen likes cookies and buffalo wings.

Awwen 's one fousan' taww. So big. Allen is one thousand tall. So big

Za' Maws dets it. Awwen jums oveh dem. Zach Moss gets it. Allen jumps over them.

Awwen sumtime fwos a pieca tookie addem. Allen sometimes throws a piece of cookie at them.

Dosh Awwen pains heh-coppers fow Owen. Josh Allen paints helicopters for Owen.

<lying immobile and sleepy-eyed on the back of the couch> Awwen is tyed. M' gonna wet him sweep fo' a widdew bit. Allen is tired. I'm gonna let him sleep for a little bit.

Trashy Kids

 The box is 16" by 18" by 18." It was a produce box, and it's almost as heavy now as it was when it arrived full of apples, oranges, greens, bananas, and squash.

It's packed with trash, all of it from Owen and Felix's room. Maybe it isn't surprising that a six year old and three year old boy could generate an enormous box of trash, but take into account the time frame--this is only thirteen days worth of trash. I set an alarm on my phone to go off every two weeks reminding me--urging me--to clean their room. And every two weeks I think to myself, "How did it get this bad this quickly?"

I couldn't see any floor two days ago. It was completely covered, with nowhere to step. So I set up James and Owen with their schoolbooks on Owen's bed yesterday morning and sorted out LEGOs from matchbox cars, all the while putting books back on bookshelves while coaching them through their Friday morning lessons. And I set out a cardboard box for trash. A big cardboard box. A cardboard box that shouldn't be this heavy.

Here's what they trashed in two weeks:

Two boxes of kleenex. They didn't use any of the kleenex, they just pulled them all out of the boxes.

4 pairs of socks with new holes in them, plus 7 mismatched socks that I couldn't find partners for under beds and dressers

Nail polish strips that someone sent to Julie and they apparently ripped open.

Three broken toy cars/tractors

Two sketch notebooks full of random crayon scribbles.

Peeled and broken crayons.

The covers to three different Calvin and Hobbes anthologies, ripped off and scribbled on.

A brass spyglass, pulled into three different pieces.

A nameplate that said Felix but only had the F and E letters left.

Bits of a picture frame that had pictures of Owen and James in it. I never found the glass. 

Two homemade masks with the earpieces pulled off.

A mostly intact deck of Rummy cards that someone gave me for Christmas. Apparently it ended up in a pile of their stuff, and they spread the cards over the entire corner of the room. I think a relative gave it to me for Christmas this year, and I'm sorry to whoever it was. I never ended up playing it. When I saw how chewed up the cards already were and figured we were already missing a couple I just pitched it all.

A decapitated fox stuffed animal with bits of the stuffing coming out of the top.

Three gingerbread house crafts. (Not actual gingerbread)

A disturbing number of large cotton tufts. Maybe from medical cottonballs?

A battery powered bubble fan that doesn't work anymore.

A ball and trap game with the string snapped.

A perfectly functioning train whistle that I just don't want in my house anymore.

A happy-meal Avengers doll with one arm missing.

Six broken pieces of a T-Rex skeleton

The bucket end of a bulldozer. (The whereabouts of the rest of the bulldozer remain unknown.)

A wooden "treasure box" that had its hinges snapped off.

4 or 5 old band-aids. (These were always under beds)

The top stem of a pumpkin. (The whereabouts of the rest of the pumpkin remain unknown.)

4 or 5 painted rocks

Several Christmas ornaments that didn't get packed up.

A Star Wars book in three pieces that used to make sound effects when you pressed a button but now only croaks static.

Two additional cardboard produce boxes and a duplo box, thrown out separately.

Boys, if either of you are reading this thirty years from now and are just now realizing what TRULY happened to your favorite ever thing that I just threw out just have your therapist bill me directly.

BONUS:

Felix, in the middle of unsuccessful potty training efforts, upon asked what WOULD get him to put his business in the potty.

"I fink I need money."

"You need money to go in the potty?"

"Yeah, I need abou' sixty dowwars."

15 Minutes with Owen

 I just transcribed the past 15 minutes of Owen's interactions with the rest of the family. 

This is why we all sleep so hard.

4:08 Kicking the oversized swivel chair (stripped of it's cushions, pillows, and blankets, which are piled in the library) in circles as fast as he can with Felix as a passenger.

Throwing metal bookends against the wall until ordered to stop.

"Felix, CLOSE YOUR EYES!"

4:11 "Do you think I can jump off the chair while it's still moving?" "Don't do that, Owen." <THUD> "OUUCH!!! I'm gonna do it again!!"

4:12 Hopping in place in the middle of the room. 2nd jump from the spinning chair. Jumping jacks. 3rd jump, with sound effects and singing. Running in place on the chair while it's "still."

"Dad, the chair is starting to wobble."

4:14 Knocked Felix down and laid on top of him. "You're warm." Gets up, singing "Duel of the Fates" from Star Wars. Teasing Felix, not letting him back on to the chair.

A giant "WHOOOOOOO" noise, from very high to very low, for no apparent reason.

To no one in particular, in a dramatic voice: "I'm a little too sloppy and a little too fast."

To Felix: "Let's call the game "Jump Off and Get On."

4:16 Snow angels on the carpet.

Ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

4:17 Felix starts throwing a foam ball around and immediately hits me in the head with it. (I'm transcribing all of this from the dining room table." Flushing sound. No sound of washing hands. Owen tears out of the bathroom and picks up the bag of blood oranges I brought back from Wegmans.

"What are these? I want to try them! Can I have blood orange juice?"

4:18 Picked up a decorative Greek vase, using it as a microphone to sing "Duel of the Fates."

"I'm bored, Felix. What do you want to do?"

4:19 20 seconds of silence. I find him touching the model Titanic (which he is not supposed to do) to see if the paint is still wet.

More silence. I find him turning the disconnected laundry taps by our pantry, which he is also not supposed to touch.

4:20 "Did you go to the store? Can I go to the store? Can I get something? I need cornstarch!" (He found a recipe in quicksand in a magazine.) Chants "Quick-sand, quick-sand, quick-sand." I get hit in the head with Felix's ball again.

4:21 (Picks up a mostly full glass of water on the kitchen table.) "Mom, is this sparkling water? Mom, is this sparkling water?" "No, and I don't know whose it is." "Owen, stop playing with the water."

4:22 Peeling stickers off a model car and putting them back on. James notices that there is play-doh out on the kitchen table. Says, rudely: "No one is playing with play-doh, James."

4:23 Goes into the bathroom and whispers something to Felix, who is sitting on his training potty. Jumps in place on the spinny chair.

4:24 Apparently he was trying to convince Felix to jump up and down on the training potty.

Going through the spice racks in the kitchen. Pulls out the apple cider vinegar and asks if he can have a drink of this "apple seltzer."

Tells James he's going up to his room without permission. Starts repeating everything James says.

BONUS 

We once had a sermon at my church about the power of six word stories, starting with the famous example from Hemingway. (For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn.)

I wrote one for our family this week:

Owen found the deliberately hidden harmonica.

Epiphany lights

 We celebrated Epiphany with lots of extra light this year. Specifically, six recessed and dimmable LED lights that I had just finished mounting into our hole-pocked living room ceiling.

We had talked about this project with various levels of seriousness for a couple of years before there was any real motion. Our living room has wonderful natural light when the sun is up, but that still leaves eight months out of the year when you can hardly see anything. We've made do with table lamps plugged into the walls, but it really was a noticeable defect in our reading/seeing situation.

The project itself was straightforward enough--run electricity up into the ceiling, drill through the ceiling joists one by one, and then run wire to new fixtures. Unfortunately, this job was always stuck between the two perils of my discomfort with dying from self-electrocution if I attempted to do my own wiring, and also my cheapskate unwillingness to pay anyone else to do the work for us. (We actually did get as far as getting an estimate in December.)

Last Tuesday, having been thoroughly coached through the process by my father-in-law, and having been enticed by vague but exciting sounding extracurricular promises from my wife, I brought home a Lowe's bag full of electrical tools, shut off the power to our living room outlet, and opened it up.

I immediately called for backup. 

"Joe, I'm supposed to be looking at a hot, a neutral, and a ground, and I'm only seeing a the hot and neutral. Let's say that I try to wire this switch without grounding it...is my house going to burn down right away, or will it happen overnight while we're all sleeping?"

My friend Joe, who loves working on DIY electrical projects, rushed right over. We didn't make any cuts on Tuesday, but we did assemble the whole electrical relay and tested it just from the outlet box and found one very wrong way to do it (loud pop and the light shutting off) and then the correct way, which confirmed that my lights and switch were incompatible. 

After making a 6 AM Lowe's trip the next morning (my third one already, and I was hoping to just have to go in twice) Joe was back to help with the initial wire-fishing party the next morning. (As he observed, it's a lot of fun to practice these things when it isn't your own house that you're sawing up.) Joe is currently working from home, which isn't hard to do while you're pitching in with a DIY project. He's also the full time parent for his thirteen month old daughter while his wife works, so we had an extra visitor.

This is probably a good time to remember the reasons why I don't often attempt around-the-house projects. Those reasons are James, Owen, and Felix. Any room that is about to become a construction zone has to be a construction zone that is safe enough for a three-year old to pass through at any moment. We moved all of our furniture into the library, and they were in the way. We told them to stay out of the library while it was full of furniture, and they immediately all needed things from the library.

The now-empty living room became a echoing hardwood-lined shouting room. (I swear, Owen is louder in there than any of my power tools.) We attempted to bundle them all upstairs with movies and new Christmas toys, but they kept on showing up asking if they could have a turn yet climbing the ladder. 

Did I mention that we are in the middle of potty-training Felix? (Yes, trying that again.)

And they have school. Or they are supposed to. We gave them Wednesday off completely, but they've been doing their regular schoolwork at the kitchen table while I've been on a ladder in the living room for the past two days, and it's hard to administer a spelling test while screwing in drywall patches. 

Wednesday was the hardest day. As I mentioned, we had four children (and three adults) in the house that day, and J did a marvelous job of shifting her plans from being my co-electrician to full time babycare. (Joe's sweet little daughter made no bones about her preference for her father, though.) The bits of the job that I was most nervous about (getting the initial wiring run up to the first light fixture, finding a place for a switch box in our messy pipe and cable filled north wall) all went off without a hitch. We ended up stymied several times by seemingly simple problems, like finding a drill bit that could make progress through the ceiling joists. I ended up making a trip to Lowe's when I found that the right angle drill attachment I had bought for the job was missing a part (I had really hoped to only make three trips), and then had to go back when the replacement that I bought was only rated for fastening, not drilling (I was really hoping to only make four trips), and then back again when I opened up my bucket of joint compound and found out that it had gone hard/rancid. (I was really hoping to only make the five trips to Lowe's)

Joe had to leave after lunch, and I attended my church zoom meeting covered in dust. It became evident early in the afternoon on Wednesday that we weren't going to have any luck fishing through the ceiling joists without opening more holes, so I took out more of the ceiling as the hours ticked by. By suppertime I had the first length of wire fished through, and by the time Joe came back after all our kids were in bed we were ready to start hooking up lightboxes.

The easiest and simplest part of the project, by far, was running the electric line from box to box. WAGO connectors are nearly idiot-proof. It was about 9:30 on the night of Epiphany (having started the day at 6 AM) that I ran down to the basement and flipped the power to the living room back on. And there was light. Dimmable light. We blasted all six glorious lights and looked about at each other.

(Turns out that our living room is really filthy.)

The last two days have been smoother, although I was really hoping to only make the six trips to Lowe's. I framed all my ceiling patches and did a first mud layer yesterday, then spent the morning sanding and doing a second layer today. We'll see how it dries, but I think that I'll most likely leave it as it is until February and take up my father-in-law on his offer to do the final coat when they come up to visit.

Still, it doesn't look to bad. I owe big thank-yous to Dennis, Joe, and J. Thanks so much to each of you. And also, thanks to our kids for being patient these last few days. But seriously, that dimmer switch is not a toy. Just bump it up or down a bit if you need to, but then leave it alone. 

Spectacles

 We, as a family, have new glasses. 

James needs his prescription updated every year, and we can always tell that it's about that time when he starts asking us to read him the football scores that he SHOULD be able to see at the bottom of the screen on Sunday afternoons. (Unrelated to anything about glasses, but important to insert because I haven't blogged in a long time, how much fun are the Bills right now?) Our television isn't THAT small.

We noticed that he was getting squinty again and scheduled an appointment at the eye doctor. Sure enough, he needed to go significantly stronger. J had him pick out a new pair of frames. For such a mild and soft-spoken kid he has incredibly gaudy taste in clothing. (Bright yellows, oranges, and his unforgettable En Vacances Tiger t-shirt) His new glasses are cherry red in the front and blue in the back. They don't match his personality at all, but they fit right in (in a clashing, wearing your shirt backwards kind of way) with the rest of his wardrobe.

When we took Owen to get his eyes checked in 2019 he ended up crying on the floor of the optometrist because he DIDN'T need glasses. He recounted all of the reasons why James getting a pair while he didn't was unfair, and even attempted to walk out with a pair "just for decoration."

This year his wildest dreams came true. The doctor approved him for the weakest possible prescription (hey, don't turn down free money) and he now owns a pair of baby blue glasses that he loses about two or three times a day. Here is a typical daily agenda for Owen:

-Play football with Felix

-Crawl under the furniture

-Shouting and yelling

-Jump off of furniture

-Wrestle with James 

-More shouting

-Snowball fight

It's easy to understand why the glasses come on and off. He's dropped them in his mashed potatoes, shaken them off his face while recording selfie videos (mostly just screaming at the top of his lungs) on his new camera, and dropped them behind his bed.

It was James, though, that needed the first repair. Somehow (we're really not sure) his new glasses were stretched out so badly within his first two weeks of wearing them that they would no longer stay on his face.

"They are so loose that they fell off my head and into the toilet," he told the attendant who was attempting to straighten them out with the heat machine. She gave me a look that plainly said "Why didn't you tell me this before handing them to me."

"We washed them," I assured her.

I have no idea if we washed them. I didn't even know they'd fallen in the toilet.

Felix doesn't have glasses yet, but his pediatrician hinted that he was well on his way at his three year old well-child visit, so we have that to look forward to as well.

There's still one more new pair of glasses in the house, though. J and I both used our insurance credit to stock up on contacts, but the doctor recommended that I get a pair of reading glasses. I am officially an old man now.

They actually would have been cheaper if I had an AARP coupon, but I didn't. I was skeptical about whether they would do any good, but the difference was drastic and immediate. Crap.

So now I carry reading glasses around in my pocket, but have to take them off whenever I'm helping one of the older two sort out their latest case of lost/damaged eyewear. I haven't lost mine yet, but remind me to look on top of my head when I do.