Variation on a theme:

Snuggle time with five-year-old Isabella.

Iz: Daddy, scratch my back.

Me: Do I have to?

Iz: Yes, because you’re the best scratcher. Ever.

Me (inventing…): Yes, well, you know I’m a member of the Back Scratcher Hall of Fame.

Iz: Really?

Me: Uh… Yeah. I have trophies.

Iz: Where?

Me: Um, in storage… They want me to give a seminar at the Arm ‘n Leg down off of Hwy 50 on Thursday. I’ll demonstrate my 3P Technique: Pressure. Pedicure. Passion.

Iz: Really?

Me: Yes, I specialize in arms, legs, and scalps. By the way, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

Iz: Zzzzzzzzz.

Highway 50. At the Arm ‘n Leg. Also scalps. Thursday. Doors open at 9:00. Any takers?

Shower Glasses

To all of my optically-challenged friends out there:

Am I the only one who wears slip-off-the-nose glasses in the shower? I mean, I generally know where everything is: shampoo, soap, faucet. Balls.

But still, I prefer the view through my rain-soaked rims than through the blur of nothingness. But, if I’m showering with a “friend,” then maybe things may be different.

…and, goodnight.

Especially for my music-loving friends…

Yet again, another sleepy time with Isabella (the five-year-old) is upon us. Only this time, it’s with a twist.

Iz: Sing me a song. You pick. Anything you want. Then, I get to pick one.

Me: Really? Anything I want? Ok…

DDT did a job on me.
Now, I am a real sickie.
Guess I’ll have to break the news
That I got no mind to lose


Me: What, not a Ramones fan?

Iz: Now do Twinkle, Twinkle.

Me (dutifully): Twinkle, Twinkle little star… (blah blah blah)

Iz: Ok. Your turn.

Me: Ok (in full falsetto brilliance)…

You don’t have to put on the red light.
Those days are over
You don’t have to sell your body to the night.


Iz: Daaaaaaddy!

You don’t have to wear that dress tonight,
Walk the streets for money.
You don’t care if it’s wrong or if it’s right.

Iz: Now it’s my turn. ABC.

Me: That’s the same song you just asked me to do. Only with letters instead of words. Ok… ABCD, EFG…. (You know the rest.)

Iz: Your turn.

Me: Ok. Here’s one you don’t know.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly.

Iz: Zzzzzzzzz.

Say what you will, but I’m learnin’ me a lifelong Beatles fan.

Iz: Now, scratch my back. Zzzzzz.

Crap. Always.

Turkey Day After

Rolling around with the girls this morning:

Me: Tickle tickle… Um, why are you not ticklish?
Isabella (5): I don’t know.

Me: Tickle tickle… You’re not ticklish either?
Julianna (8): Doesn’t look like it.

Me: Get off my loins. Ow. Loins.
Iz: Sorry. Daddy, I know where I’m ticklish.

My eyes light up.

Me: Ohhh!.. Pinchy butt. Pinchy butt!!

Iz: Hahahahahahaha!

More Thanksgiving thanks.

Loins will recover. In time.

Being Thankful

Snuggling up with five-year-old Isabella this morning…

Me: I love my Baby Daughter!
Iz: I love my Baby Daddy! Hahaha!
Me: No, Honey. I’m not your Baby Daddy. Hang on…

Me: Correction. Yes, I’m being told from the booth that I am in fact your Baby Daddy. Otherwise, this would just be wildly inappropriate.

Lots to be thankful for today.

Now, someone else keeps calling for “Daddy.” There’s another one? Who knew? (I mean, you know, besides Mommy.)


Boy Parts

On Sunday morning, Isabella (she’s 5) and I are delighting in watching the Scholastic Book video collection. These are classic childrens’ books re-told on video. Some of the stories are timelessly awesome (Harold and the Purple Crayon), others are wretchedly-’80s horrible (not naming names).

Isabella desperately wants to watch “In the Night Kitchen” because she knows the book. And, it has a naked boy. Naked. Full Frontal.

Iz: He’s Naked!

Me: Ok. I don’t know what you’re thinking. But, trust me, that’s not a big deal.

I push the PLAY button.

Iz: But, he’s naked.

Me: Honey, yeah. But…

Iz: Hehehehehehe.

Me: Much less of a big deal than you may think. Boys don’t need that extra pressure.

Wait. Over-explaining.

Iz: Hahahaha! You can see his butt!!

Me: Oh… His butt…

This Week in Sleep

Sleeping in the Otero household is never simple:

Sunday: Julianna (she’s 8) is having a nightmare. Mommy comforts her at 1:20. And is never heard from again.

Monday: Isabella (5) climbs into bed with Mommy and Daddy. 12:45. Knee to crotch. Ow. This is repeated over and over.

Tuesday: Daddy can’t sleep. He slinks off to bed with the sofa. Hussy. 1:30.

Wednesday: Isabella is fighting some sort of alien invasion. Daddy’s Ambien is just kicking in. Crap. 1:35.

Thursday: Daddy dares to sleep without pajamas. Big mistake. Julianna has a “fever.” 2:25.

Friday: Bullshit. You are not squeezing between Daddy and Mommy’s snuggle. Trust me, BigFoot is not coming through your window. (Stop watching the “Science” Channel late at night.) 12:15

Saturday: Seriously, Honey. This bed can’t handle all four of us. It’s just too close. And my groin can’t deal with another unwelcomed attack. 7:10.

What Joy! Tomorrow is Sunday. Another week begins.