Lots of cuddles. Lots of silliness. Some looking for bunnies in the park.
The weather didn't co-operate, so we couldn't do much outside. We had to be creative coming up with fun things to do.
One afternoon she spent an hour with my Dad, learning about his new drill set. He'd explain what one set of bits were used for. She'd watch him closely. He'd ask, "Are you getting all of this?" She'd say, "Yeah."
Very cute.
They also spent three hours in my Dad's shed one afternoon -- oh, she has now claimed it as her own -- checking out all of his tools. She made him lock the door from the inside, and it was their clubhouse. Anyone who went to visit had to knock on the door and state their name. They called me three times from grandpa's cell to go knock on the door.
We played some Webkinz online. She now has 43 of the furry little buggers. We checked to make sure all of them were well-fed. "Doodle the Poodle" was hungry, so we went through the food we had, and decided to give her something called "McBone Burger and fries." Sounds perfect for a dog, right? Not so. Doodle ate it and said, "Um, have you actually tried this? ICK."
I was mad. I referred to Doodle as an "ungrateful ingrate!" while The ACN giggled.
Doodle doesn't know how good she has it. It could be worse, she could be Zoe the unicorn. We have her sleeping in something called "a banana hammock."
This morning she told me she was excited that her mommy was coming today. I asked if she was excited for Mommy hugs. She said. "Yeah." I said, "But, Uncle Pete hugs are pretty good, right" She shook her head "No." Vigorously. I said, "You are going to make Unc cry. Is that what you want?" She got all excited, "Yeah!!"
I get no credit for inventing the "The Webkinz French Toast Breakfast Party" apparently.
Both yesterday and the day before, we took a break in the afternoon and she stretched out on the couch with a pillow and blanket and I gave her footrubs. Because, as you well know, it is super tiring being a professional cutie pie.
And now the munchkin is on her way home. For the next couple days I'll be missing the cuddles and all :( faced.
Here is a pic of The ACN and The Monkey and their two new Webkinz Samoyeds:
She is very excited. (Beyond the normal excitement that anyone feels when they get to hang out with me.)
She just got an electric wheelchair.
We have decided to call it "Super Chair-y." Something that cracks her up. A lot.
I've yet to see the chair, as she only got it recently, but we've talked about it a lot on the phone. She looooves it. However, some digging has lead to the real reason why she is so excited to show it to me...
She wants to try to run over my toes.
And it weighs 250 lbs.
Still, I am super excited to see her running it on her own. She is still learning how to use it, but seems so proud of herself, and to be very much enjoying some freedom.
She called me last night from Super Chair-y. She had the cordless phone, on speakerphone, sitting on her lap as she drove around the house -- while her Daddy was doing things like moving dishes of dog food out of her path. She squealed with delight.
I've been smiling like a goof ever since.
While watching her drive her chair this weekend, I am going to be one proud and toe-less uncle.
The ACN arrives tomorrow for 9 days, so I won't be working on it until the 14th. The ACN doesn't allow writing when I could otherwise be entertaining her. Fair enough.
I remembered that I have 50ish pages of hand-written notes someplace for a hockey screenplay that I planned on writing at some point. These notes should help the process.
Some of the things I found in my piles of paper while searching for hockey script notes:
Xmas card from 2000 from HRC. (Apparently I was kind of a kick-ass boyfriend. Who knew?)
Tracings of The Monkey's hand on purple construction paper from when she was three.
Hand-drawn layout for all three floors of my dream house.
Outline for buddy flick starring Bruce Willis and Will Smith set on a submarine.
Edit to add:
A spec script I wrote for The Larry Sanders Show at least ten years ago.
A short script for a mockumentary about masturbation.
Detailed outline for a Magnum P.I. script that I wanted to write.
The ACN was visiting this weekend, but had to go home a day early because of a storm.
Poooooooooop.
However, we did have lots of fun and lots of cuddles. And I learned some valuable lessons:
1) When Uncle Pete feeds you yogurt, it doesn't taste as good as it does when others feed it to you.
2) It is fun to tell Uncle Pete that you definitely want the strawberry yogurt and to make him take it out of the fridge, before changing your mind. It is also lots of fun to do this with peach, vanilla and field berry.
3) Uncle Pete is too slow at changing The ACN's clothes. (Especially when she giggles and kicks her feet.)
4) Uncle Pete is a giant goof.
5) 3 & 4 are related.
6) Anytime socks are put on or taken off of The ACN, a foot rub must occur. And The ACN decides when the foot rub is finished. (I already knew this, but I was reminded.)
7) The ACN think it's very funny when you carry her over your shoulder and spank her butt while saying, "Bum drum! Bum drum!"
8) The ACN won't let you read "MOLLY MOOSE: NEW FRiENDS, FULL BELLY" to her, but you can read "THERE'S A MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK" a half dozen times. (The Grover version!)
9) Of the thirty or so Webkinz that The ACN doesn't have, there on only four that she doesn't want. Three of which are frogs, for some reason.
I think that I'm going to start dating Mandy Moore.
Now, don't for a minute think that this is a decision that I arrived at easily. You see, Mandy, as it turns out, is a couple of years younger than I realized.
It gave me pause. It did.
But, at the end of the day, or any time really, it just isn't fair for me to deny her the chance to date me just because of when she was born.
I can't be that guy.
I can't.
I won't.
Nobody knows better than I, that love has it's ups and downs. Well, actually, I am sure that lots of people know better than I do. Possibly most people. Either way...
Love has its ups and downs. It has its sideways drunken stumbles. It has its confused turns. It has its hesitant back steps. It has its "I stubbed my damn toe because some jerkass moved that chair" one foot hops. I think you get the idea.
So, I'm going to date Mandy Moore. But, until I get to know her better, I am not sure how seriously I'll date her, you know?
Plus, I'll need The ACN and The Monkey to check her out first.
If The ACN is willing to give her cheek kissies, I'll know she's OK.
The Monkey will probably want a little extra time. She'll want to sing songs with Mandy. They'll likely have conversations like this one:
The Monkey:I'll never smoke weed with Willie again.
Mandy: Uhm... what are you singing?
The Monkey: It is my Daddy's cellphone ring tone.
Mandy: Oh my...
The Monkey:My party's all over before it begins. You can pour me some Old Whiskey River my friend. But I'll never smoke weed with Willie again.
[Yes. This conversation did actually happen, with me playing the Mandy Moore role.]
So, if both little chicks agree, Mandy is in.
I'm pretty excited about this.
Now, I haven't seen all of Mandy's movies. But, I did love SAVED. And the one where she is the president's daughter and running around someplace with a young secret service agent dude was kind of cute. (It was!) And it shouldn't be confused with the movie where Katie Holmes is the president's daughter and running around someplace... with a young secret service agent dude.
And I don't really know Mandy's music. (Though I like this cover.) I'll make sure to bone up on her other songs.
Yes, I said "bone up." Grow up.
SO immature.
"Bone up."
Tee hee.
Because I am the least shallow guy ever (in this room... right now... typing) this shouldn't matter to me, but...
Girl is 5'10".
5'10"!!!!
I haven't really figured out how to meet Mandy Moore yet. So, if she is in your book club, or is your Facebook friend, help a dude out?
I just need an intro.
I figure all I need is about 20-25 minutes of talking to her and I am golden.
I'd ask you to wish me luck, but... Come on.
If she and I got trapped in an elevator for a couple hours, we'd come out engaged.
This photo was taken, like, two minutes after The Monkey and I finished brawling.
It all began when she took the remote control out of my hand.
No. SERIOUSLY.
Peter: Gimme that!
Monkey: I want to see what's on.
Peter: I am watching football.
Monkey: I just want to check.
Peter: I don't care if you find a show starring you. You're not watching it. Give me the remote.
Monkey: No!
I decided that I was taking the remote back. And, I'm not gonna lie to you, it took more effort than it should have. She's a scrappy little shit.
But, I wrestled it away from her, and got back into a comfy seat.
I should have known that wouldn't have been the end of it.
I should have known.
She flew across the couch and was grabbing for the remote. I held it away and told her to get lost.
Then she realized that bugging me was more fun than the remote itself. So she started hitting me. Pinching me.
I threatened to kick her in the ass.
"Ooooooooh, Peter. I am sooooo scaaaaaared."
At one point I was holding her two wrists in my hand.
She growled, "Let... me... GO."
I said, "Truce?"
"Let.. me.. GO!!!"
I let her go and went back to my comfy seat.
The ACN howled with laughter, wearing her Tinker Bell jammies, and sitting in Chairy nearby.
And then The Monkey remembered that I am not big on people invading my personal space. So, she skooched up right against me.
"Hiii Peter. I looooooooooooooooove you." And tried to kiss my cheek.
"Get off me, you little loon" I replied as I moved her down the couch away from me.
I tried to draw a "border" down the centre of the couch. She just looked at me. The ACN giggled some more.
I went back to my side. And she jumped up against me again.
I tossed her back down the couch.
I should mention that The Monkey has an uncle too. He is my size, but meaner than me. And they actually fight. He hits her back. She LOVES it. But, it means that she is not at all intimidated by me.
I picked her up and put her back on her side of the couch. Seconds later, she was back.
Finally I gave up.
She put her legs over my legs, put her head on my shoulder and giggled.
I got to watch the end of the Packers game though.
Two minutes after this picture was taken, The ACN joined us on the couch. Her head on The Monkey's Shoulder. The Monkey's head on mine. All three of us sat on the same side of the border!!
Today, dumplings, I am going to tell you three facts about me.
And here they are:
1) Despite what the picture in the header (look up) seems to indicate, I totally have an upper lip. And, while I'm no lipologist, I think it is a fairly standard upper lip. You can't see it, but I am making faces now to prove it is there.
*Pouty face*
*Kissy face*
*Elvis face*
2) You are never going to receive a text from me in text speak. I just can't do it. If I want to know how you are doing, I am going to type out "How are you?" I even use commas. Of course, I don't mind if you do it. I probably won't even notice. I am not sure what my deal is with it. It's not like I feel too mature to do it -- says the guy currently listening to Dashboard Confessional's MTV Unplugged album. I have strange rules.
3) The universe likes to mess with me when it comes to receiving gifts. No matter who is giving them, or what the occasion, usually at least one gift just doesn't work out -- through no fault of the gifter. From this Christmas alone...
a) Despite their willingness to ship Lids.com gift cards to Canada, you can't actually order hats with them to be delivered to Canada. Gah? I'm no Alex P. Keaton, but that seems like an odd business practice to me. Now I am going to have to charm a dirty American friend or family member into acting as a baseball cap mule.
b) I received three shirts that don't fit.
My sister: You don't look like an XXL.
Peter stretches arms forward and sleeves end up halfway up his forearms.
My sister: Hmm. Oh well.
(They'll just be swapped. No biggie.)
c) Remember how I was looking for "Her" for Christmas? Well, my family didn't find her. I'm not sure how hard they really looked, but whatever. Instead, they went out to get the iPod Nano dealie. However, after doing some research they settled on this little dude instead. And I actually was more pleased with it than I would have been with the iPod. I was charging it up on Christmas Day when it konked out. Seemed odd, but I left it charging. The next day I went to check it and it was completely dead. Nothing. Sometimes consumer electronics are duds out of the box. It happens.
I mentioned it to my sister. My mother jumped in and demanded it back. The next day she forced my father to drive her to a store an hour and a half away -- in a snow storm -- to swap it for a new one. That night I plugged it in.
The next day it was also dead. I fielded many questions about whether I was doing it right -- "Uhm... I think I can manage to plug it into a USB port."
I got two duds in a row, from two different stores. What are the odds?
[My mother again reclaimed the broken machine. And when the dust settled this time, this gorgeous beast ended up in my greedy little hands. I love it. I've already put a bunch of music, a David Sedaris audio book, an episode of Oz and a bunch of pics of the ACN on it.]
So, yeah, presents often don't work out for me. I'd be afraid if a girlfriend gave me a gift certificate for free hugs. The next day I'd wake up and she'd have lost her arms in a trasher accident. Where am I meeting girls that run thrashers, you wonder. Don't ask me about my business, nosy.
Enough about me. (As if that is even possible. Sheesh.) Tell us one thing about you. And it has to be about YOU. Don't try to pull any "Despite not having hips or legs, whales have both hip bones and leg bones"* business. And it can't be something you yoinked from your "100 Things..." post. Tell us the first thing that pops into your head.
Before I get to your questions, I have a cute ACN story.
When I called The ACN last night, her Mommy told me all about how excited The ACN got yesterday to select, and help pack up, a bunch of her toys to give to the Salvation Army. She loved the idea of giving toys to little boys and girls who didn't have many toys.
Her Daddy went to drop the stuff off and ran into a buddy of his. His buddy has three kids, and they just lost everything in a house fire. The Daddy went home and told the Mommy and the ACN about this. They asked the ACN and she wanted to do more. She got SO excited to give more stuff, including a bunch of gift cards she got for Xmas.
She was still excited last night when I was asking her about it.
OK. The questions...
123valerie asked, "If you had to cut off either both of your arms OR your penis, which would you do?"
Well, that one is actually quite simple to answer. Since I am pretty confident that I could still operate my remote control with my penis, I would pick my arms. Plus, they grow back, right? Right?
Princess of the Universe wants to know if she can have Taye Diggs.
Uhm, sure. Fill your boots.
Mindy went all loco with questions...
1) I've lost my mojo too. Maybe it's the weather?
These questions are supposed to be about me.
2) I tried to do this Q&A thing too, and everyone was like "yeah, we'll totally ask you questions", but I have gotten zero questions. WTF?!
Seriously. Don't you have your own damn blog?
3) Would you rather eat a pound of raw bacon or drink a cup of your own urine, and why?
Are you kidding me? I'd rather eat a pound of raw bacon than drink tomato juice. Raw bacon looks awesome. Smells all mapley. And you get that satisfying feeling of peeling off one strip at a time. This one is no contest.
Michelle was wondering, "if you could go back in time what year would you go back to, why, and what would you do?"
The year: 1960. What I would do: Angie Dickinson.
You would not believe how much time I spent debating between that reply and "1964. Bewitched's Elizabeth Montgomery." Seriously. Way too long.
Katie asked, "If a movie was made about your life, who would you want to play you? Why?"
Good one! I would have to say Vince Vaughan. Same height. Sadly, similar foreheads. (Though his is bigger!) And I think he could capture the essence of my innate sense of whimsy, combined with a touch of crankiness and impatience.
Airam wanted to know, "When are you going to do another youtube video?"
I am actually thinking about doing another one soon. Mostly because blogging is boring the hell out of me lately. The videos are usually spur of the moment decisions and based, at least a little, on being too lazy to type that day.
The last time I did one, some creepy chick e-mailed me to ask me to do my next one shirtless. That pretty much turned me off the entire process. I could barely make the video and send it to her.
I'm kidding.
As far as you know.
tiff sneakily tried to out me with, "So if romancing Taye Diggs isn't up your alley, what male actor wouldn't you mind romancing? In a totally hetero-way of course?"
It is a little disconcerting that I came up with this answer so quickly. Josh Duhamel. That dude is pretty.
Mel got greedy and asked two questions:
1) So which product can you not live without?
DVR. Seriously. How did we watch TV before them? We were practically Amish.
2) If you didn't live in Canada, where in the United States would you live and why?
OK. This is the question that I gave the most thought too.
I started with a large list of American cities. I looked at average temperatures and precipitation. I looked at the number of disasters (natural and otherwise) over the past century. I looked at employment stats. I looked at housing costs. I looked at the number of professional and major college sports teams I could watch live in the area. I made lists and charts and graphs.
And then I said, "Fuck it. Charleston, South Carolina."
Hot women with amaaaaaazing accents.
jenbun1 wants to know, "If you had to pick a song as a "theme song" for your life, what would it be?"
I think about this quite often. No, really. And even though it represents a level of badassnicity that exists only in my head...
lateformyfuneral wonders, "If you could take credit for someone else's blog, which one and why?"
Ooooh. Intriguing. But, it is more about individual posts with me.
Clink sometimes will write a post that makes me say, "YES! Exactly!" Out loud. And then I'll e-mail her with "YES! Exactly!" I'm creative like that.
It is awesome when Molly writes with such love about her family. You feel it.
Meg makes me laugh out loud two or three times per post. I don't laugh out loud often. (And following her blog by reading Mindy and Jamelah is sure to improve your mood.)
Hellafied can take a "simple" emotion and write about it in a way that gives it such depth and life that you wonder if you've ever felt it that strongly.
sidewaysrain writes posts about visiting various places on the globe that somehow make you feel like you are both part of the scene, as well as sitting back and taking it in. It's a gift.
I could go on and on about how all of you write certain types of posts that affect me in some way. But, I am very, very lazy. And this post is getting long. Don't be offended if I didn't mention you!
Crap. I feel guilty now.
brazilian girls asked a whole mess of questions:
1) if were to sleep with one famous celebrity lesbian, who would it be?
Hmmm. I can't really think of any hot celeb lesbians. If I tell you that Eva Mendes is a lesbian, will you believe me? Because I'd throw you all down a flight of stairs just to get to hold her hand.
2) if you were to magically become a Simpsons character for a day, which one would it be?
Disco Stu. ALWAYS Disco Stu.
3) would you ever pierce your nipples?
Definitely not. Not a fan. On anyone. Ever. Plus, my ears (back in tha day) were enough.
4) favourite politician. must pick one. can be anyone in world.
Ever? Pierre Trudeau.
Fictional? Jed Bartlett.
Living? Probably Obama.
5) what did you want to be when you grew up, when you were a kid? have you ever thought about heaving everything now, for that? or are you doing it?
I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. If it had been "writer of a half-assed blog," I'd be living the dream right now!
6) favourite Breakfast Club character and why.
Ferris Bueller.
tia the explorer is wondering "is there really a town of avonlea?"
Steph asking about sex? I am shocked. SHOCKED! "What is your number 1 sexual turn off?"
A penis.
mr. ska also had a similar wondering, "What singular turn-off about future wife do you consider "fixable", and why?
I think it would be cheering for the wrong sports teams. (Such as the New England Patriots or NewYork Knicks.) It would be very disturbing at first. It really would. But, I think I could bring her over to the side of good. Whispering "The Colts are goooood!" in her ear while she sleeps. Or dropping hints about how "Jimmy Choo is a big Toronto Raptors fan."
On the other hand, she could just put on a Patriots apron and I'd be all types of screwed. And there you have it. You know so much more about me now. In some countries, we'd be married. Thank crap we don't live in those countries, eh?
I'm gonna mess with the chronology of this post a little. It's going to be like a Tarantino film. Except, if it was a Tarantino film, it might involve Kirk Cameron's comeback performance as a mob accountant with a guilty conscience.
**********
The Monkey arrived at the door this morning. She was wearing pajama pants and a sweat shirt. No jacket. It was 0 degrees Canadian. (Like 32 of your dirty American degrees.)
She went straight to The ACN.
The Monkey: Snowflake, do you like my nails? Aren't they pretty?
The ACN shook her head "No."
**********
Yesterday afternoon, The Monkey was cuddling with my mom on a couch, under a blanket. The Monkey sneakily stole the remote and changed the channel to "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody."
Peter's Mom: I am not watching that crap.
The Monkey: Oh no you di'int!!!
**********
This morning, The Monkey was trying to teach The ACN how to say "Garcon!" whenever she wanted me to get her something to eat.
**********
This morning, The Monkey turned to The ACN and asked, "Is Uncle Pete a poopface?"
I had my back to them, as I was making them some toast.
The Monkey said, "She said 'Yes!!'"
I turned and The ACN was smiling. So, I walked over and put my nose to her nose and said, "Did you say Unc was a poopface?"
She shook her head "No."
I went back to toast prep.
The monkey asked her again. Again I didn't hear a reply. Again The Monkey yelled, "She said 'yes!!'"
I turned around and The ACN denied it. Though while smiling.
This went on for another few minutes.
Then The Monkey asked The ACN, "Are you afraid of Unc?"
The ACN, said "Yeeeah."
The Monkey laughed and said, "He's all talk, no action."
The ACN giggled.
The Monkey asked again, "Is Unc a poopface?"
The ACN yelled "YEAH!!!!!"
Hours later, I decided to check if I was, in fact, still a poopface.
Unc: Hasn't Unc been very good to you all day?
ACN: Yeah.
Unc: Hasn't Unc been feeding you all day?
ACN: Yeah.
Unc: So, is Unc realllly still a poopface?
ACN: YEAH!
********** Yesterday afternoon the two goofs made cookies:
Upon arriving, she followed through with her promise to share her cold with me for Xmas. We were sitting on the couch when she started kissing my cheek.
Uncle Pete: Are you giving me kissies to share your cold?
ACN: Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!
Uncle Pete: You are!
ACN: Tee hee mwah!
**********
The ACN was cuddling in the big La-Z-Boy chair. Nipper walked up and dropped her Wubba next to the ACN. The ACN hugged the toy. Nipper stuck her head in and gave The ACN a kiss on the face and then wandered off.
**********
The ACN told her parents (and later me) that she wished she had gone to visit her godmother and her godmother's puppy (Spencer) for Xmas instead of coming to see me. And when I made a sad face about it, she giggled and giggled.
And giggled.
**********
I am currently still allowed to get my Xmas presents.
That hasn't been the case for her entire visit.
She arrived and said that I wasn't getting any presents because I am a bad boy.
But, then...
Gave her a hug -- Peter getting presents!
Didn't get out of bed soon enough (in her estimation) to let puppy out -- No presents for Peter!
Wanted Unc to feed her breakfast -- Peter getting presents!
Unc didn't have exactly what she wanted for breakfast -- No presents for Peter! And he isn't allowed to attend family gift opening.
ACN wants to play Webkinz - Peter getting presents!
Trouble in the middle east - No presents for Peter!
Discussions about being single seem to come up more often around than holidays than any other time of the year. (Although, I suspect with women, it comes up any time a wedding invitation lands in the mail.)
"Don't you miss having a girlfriend at Christmas?"
Well, sure.
I actually discussed my feelings on this recently. However, my counsel (aka Clink) recommended that I don't post what I told her. And not because she wants to hide my lovability. Because, really, is that even possible? It was because I've been bothered by some of the grief I've taken lately about the number of female commenters I get here.
And I don't mean the good natured ribbing from friends about the skewed demographics. I understand good natured ribbing. That's how I makes my livings.
I've actually been accused of posting stuff JUST to appeal to the female commenters. The insinuation being that I use blog posts to get female attention to feed my ego.
First of all, I had a fairly substantial crush on myself looooong before I ever had a blog. And I suspect that will continue after I stop blogging.
Also, I like to think that I wrote like this first and some of you ladies hang out here because of that.
Regardless, it kind of sucks to second guess blog posts before hitting publish. It sucks to wonder if it is going to come across as a cry for attention or some such.
It sucks that I am probably going to shut comments off on this post because of it.
It sucks.
But, I am working on getting back to not giving a fuck.
Now, the lack of a significant other thing...
There are times.
There are times when it does hit you.
You know?
The other night I called The ACN. She was hanging out with her grandmother (her dad's mom.) And her grandmother (aka Nana) told me that they were reading a book about a little boy who also has CP.
That started to hit me a little, but I powered through.
"Are you liking the book?"
She replied with the cutest little "Yeeeeah" ever.
And then she wanted to get off the phone immediately because the book was more interesting than Unc. As most books are.
I sat there.
For a while.
My thoughts were jumbled.
I felt heart broken wondering about how much she understood. How much does she understand about why she is in a wheelchair like the little boy in the story.
I felt frustrated that she couldn't just tell me how much she understood.
I felt guilty for being frustrated, because I know how hard it is for her when we don't understand her.
I felt VERY proud of her for being such a tough and sweet little trooper. She's been through a LOT.
And all these feelings hit at once.
And I sat there.
At some point I realized that this... this was one of those times when I missed having a girlfriend.
Someone with whom there is no need for an introduction or explanation before you say something. Someone with whom there is no need for a disclaimer afterwards.
Someone who will let you just express "it" and get it out.
No judging.
If you sound like a prick, it's fine.
If you sound like a 12 year old girl, it's fine.
It's just fine.
So, yeah, I miss thinking and researching and shopping for months to find that present that makes a girlfriend's face light up.
But, I miss that safe to be yourself feeling so much more.
She got home from school and she and her daddy (who works shift work) curled up in the mommy and daddy bed and she called me.
I think the daddy nodded off.
I asked her if she had fun at school. No answer. (No answer on the phone means "no." The daddy was apparently napping and couldn't tell me if she was shaking her head "no.")
I asked if she had a fun ride on the bus. "Yeah!"
I asked if she had a good lunch. "Yeah!"
I asked if they read books. "Yeah!"
I asked if she went in her walker. "Yeah!"
I asked if she and Steven* raced to the bus. "Yeah!"
Then I said, "So, munchkin, to me that sounds like a pretty good day at school. Might you be fibbing to Uncle Pete about not having a good day?"
All kinds of giggles.
[*Steven is an older boy on the bus with her. (He is 10 or 12.) He is also in a wheel chair. Every day after school they "race" to the bus. The ACN LOVES it. On her first ever day of school, Steven told The ACN's daddy, "Don't worry. I'll take care of her." Cute, right? Sometimes another little boy with autism rides on the bus too. He was sitting behind The ACN one day and he got very upset. And loud. The ACN is one tough little chica, but new noises, when she isn't expecting them, scare her. Plus, she gets upset if something is happening behind her and she can't see it. So, when the little boy got upset, The ACN did too and started crying. Steven started rubbing her hand and telling her that the little boy wasn't going to hurt her and that everything was OK. We like Steven.]
So, we kept talking.
We practiced counting.
I told her everything that was going on here.
I asked her a bunch of questions.
She decided that she wanted to trade in everybody in the family (pets included) except for she and I.
I think I've mentioned before that we talk every night at 6. (If humanly possible.) No matter where I am, or what I'm doing, I make my call. Granted, some nights she tells her mommy that she doesn't want to talk to me and then giggles.
And then doesn't talk to me.
However, I didn't talk to her Saturday night or Sunday night. She had gone out of town to do some Xmas shopping with the other grandparents. And while I call their house all the time when she is there -- and they are AWESOME about it, and hold the phone to her ear for as long as she wants to talk -- I thought it might be pushing it to call their cellphone.
I figured the lack of chatting for a few days had made her more chatty this afternoon.
When I first called, she was playing in her bed with her Webkinz. We chatted. (Turns out that Unc is a pain in the butt. Who knew? That's a rhetorical question.)
Then we chatted while she ate chicken pot pie.
Then we chatted while she went to poop. (False alarm!)
While in the bathroom, she made me talk to her cat on the phone. I did the Meow Mix meowing song. The cat ignored, but The ACN giggled. Then I made a noise and she (The ACN) howled. Then I explained that it was an "angry purr" and she howled even louder.
Then we chatted while she ate more chicken pot pie. (Although she totally wanted to leave "me" in the bathroom.)
**********
Last night when I called:
The babysitter explained that she had taken The ACN out for lunch.
Unc: You didn't have a beer with lunch did you?
ACN: Yeah.
Unc: You are six! You can't have beer.
ACN: *giggles*
Unc: You didn't really have beer.
ACN: Yeah!
Unc: No!
ACN: YEAH!
Unc: NO!
ACN: YEAH!!!
Unc: Grrrrrr.
ACN: *giggles*
**********
Two nights ago when I called:
I asked her if she was cute because she looked like me.
ACN: Yeah.
Mommy: Don't you look cute because you look like Mama?
I woke up this morning with absolutely no ideas for a blog topic.
Well, I had some ideas. But, none of them began writing themselves in my head. Which would have meant that I would have actually had to do some of the work.
Pffft. Sucks to that.
I got an early morning IM from HRC. It mostly consisted of her talking about Canadian chocolate bars. Which was followed by me complaining, "I have nothing to blog about!"
She said that I should blog about how pretty she is. Or about the time when she looked the prettiest.
I rolled my eyes like a 15 year old girl.
You can do that while IM'ing and not get punched.
Score!
So, I said something nice to her. (It was early.)
And she MOCKED me.
!!!!!!
And THEN blamed me because she claims that she learned how to pick on people by watching me.
Which reminded me of the voting I got you folks to do the other day.
The winner was...
"Terrible thing... I have a wife, yet I have to do all the housework. She can't figure out how to start the broom. She is still looking for the pull cord."
I know! I'm as shocked as you.
The masturbation one jumped out to an immediate lead -- not surprising as the history of the democratic process has taught us that pervs vote early -- but, the terrible wife ended up squeezing out a slim victory.
The quote was actually something my uncle said to me last weekend. Then he giggled. Then his wife swatted him.
And then he giggled some more.
You see, I come from a family of pickers.
He is my mom's brother. And he is legendary for his picking.
And for being an outlaw in his youth. He and his friends would frequently tear around in his car -- sometimes with a friend sitting on a wooden chair on the hood. Old people in neighbouring towns would refuse to leave their houses on Sunday afternoons. (For some reason, that was when he raised his biggest ruckuses.)
He got his picking honestly. My grandfather was a picker too. It was great.
Plus, my grandfather would tell people the craziest stories. And then get angry if you doubted him.
He'd convince people that he was his own twin and that his "brother" had died. And then let them give condolences.
An old lady once told him that she hadn't seen him in twenty years. She asked where he'd been. He told her "jail." She asked what for. "Rape and murder."
I know, right? This is my DNA, people.
My uncle has a son.
Yes, also a picker.
It's the family business.
My cousin is very dry. And many people have never heard him speak. He's the kind of person that, if he doesn't like you, he isn't talking to you. AT ALL. Don't bother asking questions.
One of my favourite moments with him was at a party many moons ago. A buddy of mine was trying to get my cousin to drink some sissy drink. All my cousin would say was...
"I like beer and I like rum."
My friend kept trying.
"It tastes great!"
"I like beer and I like rum."
"One sip?"
"I like beer and I like rum."
"Honestly. You are going to love it."
"I like beer and I like rum."
Finally he talked my cousin into taking a swig. My cousin held it in his mouth for about ten seconds. Swallowed. Then looked straight ahead...
"I like beer and I like rum."
It is good to see that the next generation in the family is also good at picking.
Because my birthday is Sunday, The ACN came back down to celebrate it with me. This time she brought her mommy and daddy and Nipper.
You may remember that the last time Nipper came down, we got into a tiny bit of trouble... when we destroyed my mother's living room.
This time my sister decided not to bring the toy that we used for our campaign of destruction. Something called a "Kong."
However, when my sister unpacked when she got here, she opened a bag with the dog food and leash and found the...
KONG.
Apparently Nipper took it and dropped it into the bag before they left.
You gotta respect that kind of dedication to causing trouble.
I think that Nipper has developed a crush on me. She follows me around, carrying toys for us to play with. If I am busy, she gives me indignant little barks. And if that doesn't work, she puts her head down and gives me a puppy pout.
She's clearly been well coached.
[The Monkey JUST called from her grandparents' house.
Monkey: Were you up?
Peter: I've been up for hours.
Monkey: (in one breath) You probably haven't been up for hours but you've been up for a while I guess Is [The ACN] there I only saw the car this morning I was walking back to my house the door was locked and my dad was trying to get sleep so I came back here and was going to call him but they all told me that he'd be mad if I woke him up but I'm not afraid of my dad I want to go visit [The ACN] before I go to the craft show is she going to the craft show? My aunt is calling in I gotta go.
*click*]
Speaking of my birthday (we were, scroll back!) where are my damn cards and gifts?
You suck.
Because it is crazy to have to blog on my birthday, I have a special guest poster lined up for tomorrow. It is the ex formerly (and currently, really) known as HRC.
Her birthday is in a couple of days, so, to return the favour, I'll be guest posting for her.
Which, let's face it, is some pretty good incentive for her to say nice things about me tomorrow.
If it wasn't for NaBloPoMo, you folks would not be getting a post from me today.
I am feeling pretty miserable. Feels like I am swallowing razor blades. And I have that itchy paining earache thing. You know, the one where you want to shove sharpened pencils in each ear. I probably won't though. Plus, I have all the other fun cold symptoms.
So, this post may suck.
The ACN was sick this past weekend. And because she learned that it is good to share...
I told her last night on the phone that she gave me her cold. To which she replied:
"*snuffle snuffle* tee hee hee *snuffle*"
I just had a cold last week or the week before. Curses!
Whenever the little squirt is sick here, I am going to get it. It's not because my immune system is letting down the team. It is because I am constantly getting or giving hugs, kisses or cuddles. In fact, my sister is always giving me crap because The ACN's hair "always looks greasy!" because I can't even walk by her without giving her a kiss on the noggin.
I just shrug and tell her that is what she gets for making such a cute kid.
And then ask, "Don't you think she is really starting to look like me?"
Which always gets many groans in reply.
Though sometimes The ACN will get my back. But, only when she wants me to do something for her.
For example, this weekend:
Unc: So, you DON'T want to send me back to the Unc store anymore?
ACN: *shakes head*
Unc: You want to keep me?
ACN: Yeah!
Unc: You love me again?
ACN: YEAH!!!
Unc: Is it because you want me to play Webkinz with you?
ACN: *sheepish grin* Yeeeeah.
I got in trouble this weekend for "stealing" kisses. I asked if I could have a kiss, she refused, and I took one anyway. Shocking, I know. And she was not going to stand for it. I actually had to give back the kisses. And since I "MWAH" loudly when taking them, I figured that I had to "HAWM" when putting them back.
She quickly figured out that I was sneakily getting two kisses for the price of one and put a stop to that practice.
Still, I wonder if that gambit has any practical dating applications.
When she arrived, she almost immediately started to sneeze. I knew that was a bad sign. The next morning, she informed me that she had a sore throat. At first I thought it might be a ruse to get to eat a bunch of popsicles, but she was clearly not feeling well. (I figured it out by asking if something was sore. She said, "Yeah." Then I asked for each body part until I got to the right one. She REALLY doesn't like it if you take too long to get to the right one.)
Still, she was a little trooper. She handled being sick better than I am handling it right now. She was still playful. I am all GRRRRRRRR.
Saturday night she felt especially yucky. Around 1:30 am cries were starting to wake me up. They were followed by an angry "Unc!" or two. She had her "Don't even try to pretend you can't hear me, you big goof!" voice on.
So, I went to her bedroom. I asked if she wanted to have a sleep over in Unc's room. She replied with a sad, sick little, "Yeah." So, I scooped her up and...
She sneezed on my cheek and neck. I said "Thanks" and she giggled a little. (She also learned early on that wiping your nose on Unc's shoulder is easy to do and lots of fun.)
We didn't sleep much. She sneezed all night, and I constantly wiped her nose. She was a pretty miserable little poodle.
The other day, my Dad was giving The ACN a glass of milk. Company dropped by, and my Dad started telling a story. The ACN yelled at him for another drink. He picked up the glass and brought it to her lips. She shook her head and start laughing. He was confused, but tried it again. More laughing and head shaking. He tried it a third time and she was giggling loudly now.
He looked down and realized that he was trying to give her a drink from his own glass.
Luckily The ACN knew that rum and coke was not what she needed to fight her cold.
There is something you should know about Uncle Pete...
He's a bit of a messy feeder.
So, after breakfast, when he was getting the ACN changed, some food fell out of her jammie pants.
His reaction of, "Dude... butt toast?" made her laugh.
A LOT.
*************
The Monkey's family went to a funeral Saturday morning, so she came over to hang out with The ACN.
At first this involved a lot of playing Webkinz online and making fun of Uncle Pete.
And then lots of giggling.
Eventually, the Monkey couldn't keep the music inside and just had to start singing.
In French.
My gentle reminder that "We sing in English in this family!!!!" only caused her to raise the decibel level about 50 points and incorporate some dance moves.
She strutted and danced around The ACN in chair-y. The ACN squealed, laughed and sang some back-up.
The ACN wouldn't let me throw The Monkey out.
I asked more than once.
My continued complaints about the French music eventually worked. She stopped.
For three seconds.
Then she launched into Rhianna's "Unfaithful."
She sang EVERY SINGLE WORD.
I asked The ACN if The Monkey was a good singer.
"YEAH!"
Then The Monkey sang "Life is a Highway." Despite the fact that it was released five years before she was born, she also sang every word. And she worked in some of her got-to air guitar moves.
Because, as she recently told me, "You can never have too much air guitar, Peter."
She completed her three song set with Aerosmith's "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing." There was much emoting and every time she sang "you" she stopped and pointed at me.
A little later, we decided to go for a walk. We put on her little pink boots. We tucked in her shirt. We started to put her arm in her winter coat and then...
posted by Peter at 2:05 PM
