Good Trip Cow

Cow Again

Cow had a big day today.  He also had a day full of surprises.

To begin, Cow got to write his name. 

At first it was bla bla bla.  Cow calls them people moos.  But then...

Cow found some new friends, Spider and Elephant!  Spider suggested no one move too much, plus he wanted to learn more about the Web.

Later we went to a cafe.  I told cow that one day he'd be big enough to see over the counter.

Since Cow had been so good in the meeting, I thought he deserved a treat. 

Cow was excited to tell the clerk about the importance of milk to chocolate.

And then we drove.  Cow got really bored.

Trees!

And then cow asked, "Is this where I belong?"  Maybe cow, maybe.  But then he saw something shiny.

Holy cow! 

Oh!  Sorry Cow, but good job using the potty.

I compromised on a chicken snacker.  Still regrettable.

But I might have been upset from an incident earlier in the day.  I almost lost Cow.

Cow

Quin, I gotta tell ya.  Cow really wanted to come with me to Fargo, but it's been a lot of work. 

Cow liked watching the airplanes at the airport.

But then he got on top of one!  Cow!  What are you doing on top of an airplane?

Cow!  Wear your seat belt!

OK, Cow, I guess you can sit on the new snow machine.  (He made snow machine noises.)

No, Cow, you don't know her. 

Oh, boy, Cow didn't want to walk.  (I told him Quin liked to walk everywhere he goes.)

Awkward!  Cow couldn't find anything he wanted to eat.

Cow got a little angry.  I told him he needed to use his words.

 But he was mad all the way home.  I told him Quin always found ways to be happy.

And he did.   (more cow to come)

MY LORD I LOVE THESE GUYS SO MUCH BUT LOVE IS A STUPID WORD THAT REALLY MEANS NOTHING SO I HUG THEM A LOT WITH HOPES OF TRANSLATION

Q Tip of the Day: Easy Ways to Make Your Life Easy

Quin has simplified by recognizing only one possible state of existence for any one thing. 

"Quin, is that yogurt yummy?"

"No, it's mine."

Nothing can be more than the sum of its parts, which in every case adds up to one thing:  mine.  It is an interesting linguistics study.  The subject and verb shouldn't be confused with more than one object, so if something is already "mine"  then there's no room for it to be yummy or fun or even yogurt for that matter. 

Is this conversation freaking you out?

Take heart, in it is embedded brilliance.   Band names, for example.  My co-workers have compiled this list of accidental Rock n' Roll nomenclature used in conversation.  I've deleted some so no one gets fired. 

4. Bluster of Conservative Blowback
 5. Trainwreck in Nebraska
 6. The Wingnuts
 7. Vile of Tetnis
 8. Big Bucket 'O Fat
 9. Drowning in Tuesday
10. Waiting for Baby
11. Smells Like Eugene
13. Otto and the Breast Pump
15. Hues of Anglo
18. It's Noon in Nebraska
19. Bleachers in Your Brain
20. Touch of Senility
21. Tapestry of Strangeness

If you've got the time and a tambourine then you're free to use any of them. 

...Still talking about our children 10/29/09

We've just been grinding away; work all day and then play until the kids are down and that's when we sit and think about doing something until we fall asleep thirty minutes later.  Often I'll wake up with my arm reaching towards Sarah.  It's like one last, dramatic attempt at passion.  But sleep is soooo good.  And to think I could have done so much more of it in college.

We're good.  Otto is hilarious, smiling and drooling and getting fat.  Q is talking and being cute.  And I can't stand that piece of shit "Sid the Science Kid" on PBS.  I think I'd beat him if he were real.

And I had no idea how emotional Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends are.  They're a bunch of bipolar steam engines gossiping and snipping at each other.  It's really kind of a shock, or it was before I'd seen our one DVD 45 times.

Other than bending us to his will for fun, Quin's been pushing around one of our bar stools and using it to get places he couldn’t before.  He’s like a little old man with a wooden walker.  The stool is taller than him so often all you can see is the seat moving around the house.  But the scary part is the little person attached to it.  He’s eating everything these days and with his stool can get at the food we once hoarded for ourselves.  There’s nothing quite so chilling as putting a PB & J together only to hear the scraping of the stool coming up behind you.  You’ve only got so much time to get it down before you have to share it with the doe-eyed boy who asks, “Have some, please?”  There’s nothing you can do but hand it over.

The other night Sarah was pulled away from the dinner table by a hungry Otto.  Later she pieced together a plate of some leftovers.  As she scraped the saucy ravioli out of the Tuppeware, from the living room I saw the black top of the wooden stool glide towards her.   She was visibly shaken.