So I learned something today. I learned that my 1 1/2-year-old daughter Willa is sneaky. Very sneaky. In fact, she is the only one of my children that knows enough to go and hide when she's doing something she's not supposed to.
I saw her carrying a box of crackers earlier this afternoon but paid little attention to it since my wife Kathleen was intercepting her. She said "Willa, you can't have the whole box" or something to that effect.
Suddenly, Willa ran into my office and crawled behind the big chair we have in the corner. What's going on I thought as I looked to find her holding only the bag of crackers.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
We Like to Snooze ...
Probably the most enjoyable part of my day is when I put my 1 1/2-year-old daughter Willa down for her nap. It's nice to take a break and lie down and do nothing for a little while. But the best part is watching Willa get herself prepared.
It's pretty much the same routine every afternoon. Willa starts by searching around for her doll that she's named "Baby". Once found, she tucks it in beside me. Then she's off to find her other doll, also named "Baby". It too finds its way into the bed. Now comes her stuffed dog "Puppy" and her duck "Ducky" and finally she herself climbs in.
After flipping this way and that, Willa finally gets comfortable and asks for "Row Row" and I quietly sing: "Row, Row, Row your boat, gently down the stream ... " She chimes in with a few words here and there and we do this for three, four, sometimes five verses.
And then it's on to Sandra Boynton's Snoozers, the same story I've been reciting for months. Willa shouts with glee at the end, rolls over, throws her dolls and stuffed animals onto the floor then snuggles in beside me and falls asleep.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
It's pretty much the same routine every afternoon. Willa starts by searching around for her doll that she's named "Baby". Once found, she tucks it in beside me. Then she's off to find her other doll, also named "Baby". It too finds its way into the bed. Now comes her stuffed dog "Puppy" and her duck "Ducky" and finally she herself climbs in.
After flipping this way and that, Willa finally gets comfortable and asks for "Row Row" and I quietly sing: "Row, Row, Row your boat, gently down the stream ... " She chimes in with a few words here and there and we do this for three, four, sometimes five verses.
And then it's on to Sandra Boynton's Snoozers, the same story I've been reciting for months. Willa shouts with glee at the end, rolls over, throws her dolls and stuffed animals onto the floor then snuggles in beside me and falls asleep.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Driving Miss Crazy ...
Editor: After about a half dozen false starts on writing a story for this issue, I've finally decided to recycle one from a few years ago. This story was first published on June 18, 2002.
Lately I have been contemplating the wisdom of having car seats for the kids. Safety issues not withstanding, I wonder why they exist in the first place. The process of getting a child into a car seat is certainly a conspiracy to keep parents with young children out of shopping malls, libraries and other public places. Little wonder.
For my 2 1/2-year-old daughter Neva, the journey to the car seat begins in the front of our truck behind the steering wheel -- you know, the place where all the buttons are within arm's reach. After repeatedly lunging after her, I finally manage to wrestle the giggling Gertie into the back of the truck. Cornering her with my shoulder, I use my upper body to contain her as I struggle to harness her into place using both hands to adjust the straps. As I bang my head for a second time, it occurs to me that an engineer designed this chair.
A little ruffled, I climb into the driver's seat, close the door and start the truck. Quickly realizing the radio is on full volume, I turn it down, then turn off the windshield wipers, turn signal, air conditioner and rear window defrost. After replacing the contents of the glove box, I buckle myself in before readjusting all the mirrors.
Okay, ready to go ...
"Daddy, I gotta go pee."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Lately I have been contemplating the wisdom of having car seats for the kids. Safety issues not withstanding, I wonder why they exist in the first place. The process of getting a child into a car seat is certainly a conspiracy to keep parents with young children out of shopping malls, libraries and other public places. Little wonder.
For my 2 1/2-year-old daughter Neva, the journey to the car seat begins in the front of our truck behind the steering wheel -- you know, the place where all the buttons are within arm's reach. After repeatedly lunging after her, I finally manage to wrestle the giggling Gertie into the back of the truck. Cornering her with my shoulder, I use my upper body to contain her as I struggle to harness her into place using both hands to adjust the straps. As I bang my head for a second time, it occurs to me that an engineer designed this chair.
A little ruffled, I climb into the driver's seat, close the door and start the truck. Quickly realizing the radio is on full volume, I turn it down, then turn off the windshield wipers, turn signal, air conditioner and rear window defrost. After replacing the contents of the glove box, I buckle myself in before readjusting all the mirrors.
Okay, ready to go ...
"Daddy, I gotta go pee."
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Sticker Shock ...
My kids have become sticker junkies. Six-year-old Neva gets a sticker for doing her school work. She uses them to make all the time to make art projects. My 3-year-old son Milo gets a sticker everytime he goes to the bathroom. And 1 1/2-year-old Willa has found that glueing them to her arm is wonderfully entertaining.
Did you know they come in a greater variety than almost any other thing on the entire planet? But what are you really supposed to do with them? You get a few hundred in a package, more if you get them in book form. I mean, there's only so many times Milo is going to go to the bathroom.
And then half of them don't stick to what you want them to stick to. Instead they fall off and become permanently adhered to the floor. The kids glue them to the walls, the furniture, even my computer screen! My kids are like little mice sneaking around the house leaving sticker droppings everywhere.
Their appeal is lost on me, but the kids, they like them even if I don't.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Did you know they come in a greater variety than almost any other thing on the entire planet? But what are you really supposed to do with them? You get a few hundred in a package, more if you get them in book form. I mean, there's only so many times Milo is going to go to the bathroom.
And then half of them don't stick to what you want them to stick to. Instead they fall off and become permanently adhered to the floor. The kids glue them to the walls, the furniture, even my computer screen! My kids are like little mice sneaking around the house leaving sticker droppings everywhere.
Their appeal is lost on me, but the kids, they like them even if I don't.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
The Mysterious Cocoon ...
Back in the summer, my 6-year-old daughter Neva caught a caterpillar. She found it in our vegetable garden and gave it a new home in a plastic magarine tub. She poked holes in the top and added fresh leaves every now and then.
Not long after the caterpillar spun itself a cocoon. It had attached itself to an old dried up leaf that had curled up into a tube. And every day Neva would check to see if it had turned into a butterfly.
As weeks passed it became clear to everyone but Neva that the magical transformation wasn't going to happen. She wasn't letting the simple passage of time dampen her enthusiasm. She checked almost daily, hoping and waiting.
Last week something mysterious did indeed happen. The cocoon disappeared and a moth took its place. I know that little elves had something to do with it; they told me they had made the switch, a moth in place of the cocoon.
What I imagine is that some day, maybe years from now, Neva will be reading this and say: "Hey, I remember that". And the elves and I will have been found out. Neva will then finally know that neither of the elves, nor me can tell the difference between a butterfly and a moth.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Not long after the caterpillar spun itself a cocoon. It had attached itself to an old dried up leaf that had curled up into a tube. And every day Neva would check to see if it had turned into a butterfly.
As weeks passed it became clear to everyone but Neva that the magical transformation wasn't going to happen. She wasn't letting the simple passage of time dampen her enthusiasm. She checked almost daily, hoping and waiting.
Last week something mysterious did indeed happen. The cocoon disappeared and a moth took its place. I know that little elves had something to do with it; they told me they had made the switch, a moth in place of the cocoon.
What I imagine is that some day, maybe years from now, Neva will be reading this and say: "Hey, I remember that". And the elves and I will have been found out. Neva will then finally know that neither of the elves, nor me can tell the difference between a butterfly and a moth.
Happy sweeping,
Bob Gunther
Webmaster, ContestHound.com
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Weigh In!
I was thinking last night, as our sugar-filled children lay snug in their beds, limbs still jittery and twitching, how it was that special time for Moms and Dads to raid the Halloween treats! (Oh, we all know you do it.) But before you did, did any of you check out just how much was in those bags?
As soon as my kids got home, 6-year-old Neva instructed the two little ones to empty all the bags into one pile. Candy spilled off the table and onto the floor. So we sorted, tallied and re-bagged. And I got to wondering how much it all weighed. I mean, just how much weight will I be putting on when I eat all of this stuff, anyway?
So I dusted off the bathroom scales and here's what I got: 8.5 pounds! And more than half of that is in chocolate bars. Unbelievable! Especially since they only walked a little more than two blocks and visited probably only two-thirds of the houses!
I was interested in hearing from some of my family and friends with power-trick-or-treating older kids. (Ah, those were the days!) While most of them said it was too late to weigh, since much had been eaten last night already, one of my nieces (in a family of four) had 8.6 pounds alone. That's alot of candy! My friend "buys" her kids' candy, giving them a toy instead and sends the sweets to work with her husband. Although, she admits she sends only what she doesn't like.
However, a cousin of mine, who was out with her girls for almost 3 hours, put it quite well. She feels raiding her children's candy is her due for walking miles and miles with them to 'ensure their safety'. I couldn't agree more!
And with that, I'd better go. There are KitKats calling my name.
Happy Hallowe'en everyone!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
As soon as my kids got home, 6-year-old Neva instructed the two little ones to empty all the bags into one pile. Candy spilled off the table and onto the floor. So we sorted, tallied and re-bagged. And I got to wondering how much it all weighed. I mean, just how much weight will I be putting on when I eat all of this stuff, anyway?
So I dusted off the bathroom scales and here's what I got: 8.5 pounds! And more than half of that is in chocolate bars. Unbelievable! Especially since they only walked a little more than two blocks and visited probably only two-thirds of the houses!
I was interested in hearing from some of my family and friends with power-trick-or-treating older kids. (Ah, those were the days!) While most of them said it was too late to weigh, since much had been eaten last night already, one of my nieces (in a family of four) had 8.6 pounds alone. That's alot of candy! My friend "buys" her kids' candy, giving them a toy instead and sends the sweets to work with her husband. Although, she admits she sends only what she doesn't like.
However, a cousin of mine, who was out with her girls for almost 3 hours, put it quite well. She feels raiding her children's candy is her due for walking miles and miles with them to 'ensure their safety'. I couldn't agree more!
And with that, I'd better go. There are KitKats calling my name.
Happy Hallowe'en everyone!
Kathleen Gunther
Editor, ContestHound.com
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