"Father of the Year"...4 years running...

Last week I was cleaning up the house and Isabelle was toodling behind me...messing up everything I was cleaning. As I cleaned, I talked to her and yelled, "ISABELLE! STOP MESSING UP!" and she would laugh and hug my leg. As I got out the vaccuum, I could see the growing terrow welling up in her little cow eyes. She struggled to get her chubby little leg up on the rocking chair and tried to keep an eye on me as I plugged in the mighty, mighty Kirby G5 Powerforce Vaccuum cleaner. Seeing this(NOTE:This is where I still feel bad about this), and knowing that kids are afraid of vaccuum cleaners, I turned it on and zoomed it at her feet...a few times. She was hysterical at this point, and I thought it was pretty funny, although I felt bad at the time, I finally felt vindicated over my little destroying angels. Later, we found her curled behind the rocking chair and sobbing, but Lily started beating on her in the most loving sisterly way and Isabelle was back to normal.

Lucky, the clown, locked in the stockade...

Lily, Caleb, and by default Isabelle were coloring the wooden deck in chalk, hence the dyer need to powerwash and seal the bad oscar. Apparently, after coloring the baby, Lily decided to paint her face pink. They dump the big, honking chalk chunks in water and paint the sidewalk, the house, the baby, themselves...anyway, Lily gets curious to go down the stairs, then notices that there is whellbarrow under the porch/deck and(seriously, you just can't make this stuff up), sticks her head between the stairs to get a closer look at that there wheelbarrow. After contorting her noggin through the stairs, she deems it that she has had a close enough look at the object and proceeds to backup...BUT WAIT, her head won't fit out. By the time Janelle got to the fiasco, Lily's lip was swollen and her nose was cut...and of course, the obligatory tears went with it.

The House of the Lord...

In church yesterday, Caleb was slouching and drinking his sippy cup. He propped his feet on the pew in front of us and started sliding his feet up and down and up and down and up and down...then kicking. Kicking, Kicking, Kicking...
After a while, I leaned over and, in my new and improved fatherly third person condemnation, said, "Caleb, let's not put our feet on the chair and kick, this is Heavenly Father's house and we don't want to put our feet on God's chairs, do we?".
That looked like it hit home. Solemnly, he put his feet down and sat up. A few minutes later, I felt uncomfortable, so I shifted a little and crossed my legs and my shoe was barely touching the pew in front of me...and in front of Caleb. He noticed this and slapped my ankle and said, (loudly, as my children have only two volumes, LOUD and "standing-in-front-of-the-amplifier-of-a-roadhouse-band-playing-skynnard-songs" loud), "GET YOUR FOOT OFF OF GOD'S STUFF!"

The Watermelon...

After deep cleaning our carpets the night before, my wife went shopping with 3 destroying angels in tow. A little background--when we bring the food into the house, we put it all over the kitchen and unpack the bags and throw the plastic bags on the floor...so the kids can play in them(choking hazards are so overrated). Well, she left an (expensive) watermelon on the floor and for some reason, the kids thought it would be fun to play soccer...with the melon. Appparently the melon lasted quite a while until Caleb went for the game winning goal. I can imagine it, there he stood gazing at the goal(the hallway), with the goal tender(Lily) guarding it. He points "downtown" and with a windup, he lengthens his gait and SPLAT!!!