Just the Two of Them

Last night I went out with some friends from work and left Daddy and Alexis to fend for themselves. Alone. Together. Alexis and Daddy. The truly earth-shattering result of the evening was that nothing happened. Seriously--nothing. I didn't get 37 phone calls, the police weren't on the front lawn, there were no holes in the walls, it didn't look like the fridge threw up all over the house, and everyone was still alive. Amazing.

Any other time that I have left those two alone together, the result has been less than spectacular. The very first time was when Alexis was probably two months old. I had the audacity to decide that four months was long enough and I needed to get a haircut. While I was at it, I thought I would throw in some highlights. I only ventured about two miles from our house but yet I didn't even make it out of the car before the first call. The gist of it was something along the lines of, "Come back now." There was much screaming and crying and Alexis wasn't very happy either. I decided it was time for the home team to man up and went through with the two hours of vanity. I stopped counting the calls at five and stopped answering them after ten. When I got home, I vaguely remember hearing a whole lot of complaining and many threats of "You're never leaving us alone again."

Daddy, you've come a long way since that fateful day. Well done, well done.

Where's Dora

Obviously, Dora long ago took over several aisles in Toys 'R Us. It's probably not so much that she's popular as it is that none of the other toys want to be near this freaky thing:

This has got to be the largest Dora in existence. She obviously has developed sort of condition that causes her head to look like it belongs on Barry Bonds' body.

Someone is Counting His Lucky Stars Right Now

Every night Alexis ends her day by sitting with me up in her room reading stories. Sometimes she reads, sometimes I read, sometimes we end up playing and no one reads, we just go with it. Just a few minutes ago, we were sitting in her chair together having just finishing a book. She looked up at me, grinned, and said:

"Sh@t"

Plain as day. She said a word that has never fallen out of my mouth (oh my, that's a funny, funny joke). I looked at her, she looked at me.

"Sh@t"

At that point, I muttered, "I am going to kill your father." I don't think he would bother to deny that he has been known to let loose some words that may not be appropriate for the Dora crowd.

"Sh@t"

On the third repeat, I began preparing my weapons. I started up the Nagometer, grabbed a few heavy objects, and set my laser-beam eyes to kill. Just as I was about to summons the soon to be Dead Daddy, Little Miss Cuss tugged at her shirt. Hmmm. A familiar bit of symbolism. I thought for a moment, then said, "Shirt?"

"Yes! Sh@t!"

Sign Language just saved Daddy's life.