Mum’s the Word

Watching a show on the TV tonight about a boy who didn’t speak until he was five. This, of course, becomes fodder for discussion…

Julianna (she’s 9): Daddy, did he not speak because he was afraid to speak or because he didn’t know how to?

Isabella (she’s 6): Or did he not know how to spell the words, so he didn’t want to say them?

J: Or maybe he had something in his throat, like an almond or a pistachio that stopped him and he couldn’t cough it out, but he could still breathe, but he couldn’t talk.

Iz: Or, his lips were chapped because he always breathed through his mouth and his lips dryed out and he couldn’t talk because of that.

J: Or, maybe, he had learned another language and didn’t understand what people were asking him when they spoke regular English, so he didn’t know what to say.

Iz: Or maybe he had hot peppers for dinner and his mouth was on fire and he didn’t have any cold water to cool his mouth down so he couldn’t talk, but just kept pointing to his mouth.

Me: Well, obviously children “not speaking” is, unfortunately, not a problem in this family. And, if you’ve had hot peppers, the cure is to drink milk, not water.

(By the way, I’ve known parents with kids who have this problem. They usually grow out of it. The kids, that is. The parents never recover.)


So, Discovery Channel’s “Amish Mafia” is not comprised of Amish people, or people from Sicily. Just some vigilantes in funny suits and hats.

I know people from both the Amish and (let’s say, um) Sicilian traditions.

And, crap, I am offended. Amish? Mafia? Italian?

Reality TV, are you lying to me? Again?

Please don’t answer that.

Bachelor City – Thank God It’s Over

Bachelor City is over for me. Three weeks without the wife and two children have left me a writhing puddle of grown-up fetal position mess in the corner.

Not really.

And, while I kid, there’s some truth to that (there were FAR, FAR fewer skinny dipping sessions than most have commented on.)

But, now, my girls (the 2 little ones, and the grown-up one that stands taller than me) are getting back to normal.

Me: I don’t know what I’d do without them. Obviously.

Hi-Yo Silver

As most of you know, I live in Hollywood, and work in the Film/TV world. (Please, no resum├ęs. I can’t help you. Really, I can’t. Sorry.) (Also, no refunds.)

I often work on the Walt Disney Studio lot in Burbank. So, I’m used to avoiding cameras and lights and key grips (they are actual people, and they’re pretty intense. Nice people. But, intense.)

At the time, I knew there were some Lone Ranger re-shoots happening on the lot during that week.

So, leaving my unassuming office in the shadows, I first noticed the security guard with the orange cones preventing my normal escape to the parking garage… Then the wardrobe ladies hauling their clothes racks past by me. Then, a Western cowboy wearing a mask walked right in front of me, almost running right into me.

Who was that masked man?

Oh, crap. I should know this…


Isabella (she’s 6): Daddy, do you have a hundred dollars?

Me: Well, not on me right now.

Iz: Do you have a thousand dollars?

Me: You mean, counting all assets? Encumbrances? Investments? Liens? Stocks? Fines? Bail Bonds?… Um, I suppose.

Iz: Do you have more money than Mommy.

Me: Well, Honey. Here’s how it works when you’re married: My money is Mommy’s money, and Mommy’s money is my money. We share all of our money.

Iz: Is that really true?

Me: Yes, unless you’re rich before you get married, then you get a pre-nuptual agreement.

Iz: So…, I guess I should get one of those, because I’m rich. I already have 61 dollars: 15 dollars from my birthday, 10 dollars from chores. 5 left over from Christmas. And the rest from the tooth fairy.

Me: Really? That much from the Tooth Fairy? You’ve only lost, like, one tooth. What is she thinking?

Iz: I don’t know. I’m only 6.

Me: Maybe I need to talk to the Tooth Fairy. Because, that seems a bit too much.

Iz: I’m still learning math.

Me: Yes, please. Math is SO important. But, I should talk to the lady with the wings.