Chickens

Little Girl says to me: Daddy, do we have enough pillows for me to build a chicken coop?

Me: Why do you want to build a chicken coop?

LG: So I can be inside it.

Me: You want to live in a chicken coop?

LG: (Big sigh, annoyed tone) No. I don't want to live inside it, I just want BE inside it.

Me: Why do you want to be inside a chicken coop?

LG: So I can do my business and people won't bother me.

[The preceding conversation interrupted a discourse on lemon vs strawberry gum, which started up right back where it left off. I have no idea what prompted the question, but it made my day a little more surreal.]

Sculpt Novelty!

Little girl is very interested in music, which is fine for a sound engineer father. She has a little flute and a harmonica, which she will play for hours, but last Christmas one of the grandparents bought her toy keyboard with microphone.

I've been meaning to take pictures of the box for some time because it's a work of art in it's own right, and here they are, finally.

Kids these days.

I finally figured out why my new laptop has been randomly rebooting. It was not a hardware issue or problem with windows and all the virus scans came back clean. Very hard to troubleshoot, because I could not replicate the problem at will, and never saw it actually happen.

Turns out, it's my three-year-old daughter pushing the power button every time I leave the room. She wants to work on the computer like daddy. I guess this means I will have to move up my plans to put Sugar on a Stick on the old laptop.

In the meantime, I don't normally recommend other blogs, but this fellow has issues with his young daughter and his work as well.

Remember to floss...

My older daughter had gone off to play with the neighbor girl and the toddler was playing with Barbie dolls in her room, but was a little disappointed that she couldn't go with the bigger kids. She asked me to play with her.

"You can be the little princess, Daddy," she said, handing me her Sleeping Beauty doll.

"I don't want to be the little princess," I answered, more teasing than actually declining; as the father of two small girls, I am expected to dress baby dolls, play with princesses and ponies, get my hair brushed and occasionally, wear a tiara.

Drag queens and fathers of toddler girls - the only men who can pull off wearing a tiara.

"I don't want to be the little princess," I continued, and it was then that I spotted her dinosaur on the floor nearby, "I want to be the dinosaur," I picked up the large plastic tyrannosaurus, "and the dinosaur is going to eat this princess."

The three-year old sighed, "No, he not hungry."

"He's going to eat this princess," I said, making chomping noises and moving the dinosaur to get a good bite of the princess sprawled on the floor. As I turned him over, though, another princess fell out of the mouth of hollow, plastic rex.

"He not hungry," she repeated, not looking up, "he already eated."

While trying not to laugh out loud, I shook the dinosaur, there was something else in there. I turned rex upside down again, and a long piece of green plastic fell out.

"That his toothbrush. Toothbrushes are good for getting out princesses."