Category Archives: Dysfunction Discussions

Tuesday, 9/13/2011 (Part II)

Guessing Game

“What’d you do in therapy?” I ask Maddie.

“They had me do the sphinx.”

“The sphinx? What’s that?”

“Is that where you are… Is that like a push up?” asks Mom.

It’s like when you’re in the sphinx, and you lift your butt up…”

“I don’t know what a sphinx is,” I say.

“The sphinx? In Egypt?”

Oh. That sphinx. Continue reading

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Sunday, 9/11/11

Oh, Boy!

So today, at dinner, Linn, my little girl, my baby girl, announces to everyone that, “I know what a period is.” And no, we aren’t talking about the little dot at the end of this sentence. But first, some backstory. Oh, and if you’re squeamish, leave now.

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I have a strict, “anything goes” policy as far as questions my kids may ask. If you can think it, ask it. No question is too embarrassing and no subject is taboo. If I don’t know the answer, I will find it out. If I do know the answer, I will tell you in terms appropriate for your age, or, if it’s an age inappropriate question (e.g., something the younger two do not need to know), I will discuss it with you later. Unfortunately, many of these questions crop up at dinnertime and my wife and two older daughters aren’t as free thinking as I am. Continue reading

Saturday, 9/10/11 (Part I)

Boy Scouts, Dental Sealants, & Science

“Can I have some peppers?” Erica holds her plate up but doesn’t pass it to me as she turns her head to stare at her mother.

“Are you going to pass me your plate?”

“Yeah, no…”  she says as she does. “I was waiting for Mom to say, ‘You like peppers?’ Yes. We do this every time. But you won’t let me have them,” she says, still looking at Mom.

“I like peppers,” says Mom.

“I like ‘em too. Thank-ya Daddy,” Erica says as I pass her plate back.

Dinner has begun. Continue reading

Saturday, 9/10/11 (Part II)

Ice-Cream and Dental Sealants

I notice that my son, whose throat is raw from vomiting all night, has apparently fallen asleep on the couch with a coffee cup full of ice-cream gripped in his hand.

“Look,” I say to my wife. “He feels so bad he can’t even eat any ice-cream.”

Erica laughs.

“He ate it all!”

“He didn’t eat it all.”

“He always eats ice-cream slowly though,” says Maddie.

“No, that’s me,” says Erica. Continue reading