Sound Judgment Hits at Age 4

A year ago our entire family watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy (extended versions) from the beginning to the 5+different endings. (We used 'Clearplay,' which cut out the especially gory scenes.)
Allyson (age 3.75 at the time) loved it. She especially loved Gollum, and for weeks thereafter would walk around the house saying 'My precioussss! My precioussss!' She watched it all with nary a sign of fear.
So during the current break this year she again expressed great interest in watching it.
So tonight we gave in and put it in. During the prologue she galloped halfway up the stairs 3 times when she thought things might be getting 'scary.' She took especial care to not be in front of the TV when there was an early cameo of Gollum.
In the end, Cindy took her upstairs to watch Toy Story 3.

I always said she was a smart girl!

The jury's still out on her Dad.....

Hmm....maybe she would like The Seven Samurai better...though I think I would get tired of reading the subtitles to her... (I've had the DVD for 8 months now, and I still haven't found the 208 minutes necessary to watch it!)

Touche!

Yesterday Kenner was up in our bedroom watching TV on our bed, where I found her shelling and eating peanuts from her Christmas stocking.
As her bag was getting full of empty shells, she began laying unshelled ones on the new bedspread.
I put a quick stop to that, telling her that I didn't want a lot of salt residue on the new bedspread.

So today I was cutting my toenails and temporarily putting the clippings on the bedspread.

Kenner walked in, did a double-take, and then dryly commented, 'And you were worried about a little salt?!'

And a Merry Christmas to You!

And before I forget....
Merry Christmas from the Dayton Ohio Contingent of the Floyd Clan!

Erin (just turned 14), Cindy (just turns heads), Louis (just a cheapskate), Allyson (4 3/4, just a cutie)
Makenna (9 1/4, just a Daddy's girl), and Cameron (11.5, just lookin' for wabbits to test his hollow-point pellets)

Striking Fear In My Heart

Background:
Nearly 7 months ago the two older girls were frolicking around in the kitchen. Not unusually, one of them lost their balance and fell on the open dishwasher door.
When Mommo and Daddo returned home and found that the dishwasher door now opened far enough to almost hit the floor, they were not pleased.
The next day when the dishwasher was run, water was found seeping out from under it.
More displeasure abounded.
I did a cursory check, but didn't find the root cause.

This was then followed by 7 months of not using the dishwasher. (Mommo had had this idea--later found to be a 'moon-bat crazy idea'-- that this would be a good opportunity to give our kids more hands-on contact with work. Naturally, I agreed with her, and forgot about the dishwasher.)

However, a couple weeks ago Cindy hinted that she wanted to dishwasher back in operation.

She hinted strongly that she would be calling a repairman sometime after Christmas.

While I was still hyperventilating, I managed to pencil in a more comprehensive troubleshooting regimen on my to-do list.

Its turn came up on Christmas Day at about 1 PM. I had pulled out the dishwasher and was running it to see if I could find the source of the leak. (I was guessing it was a cracked frame).

Five minutes after it was started, as I lay on the floor looking for leaks with my flashlight, I got sprayed in the face. There was a tube running along the side of the unit, and I saw that it had been chafed by the hinge and had developed a hole.

5 minutes after that, Plumber's Epoxy (no man's toolkit is complete without it!) and electrician's tape took care of the hole, and then some duct tape was used to keep the tube away from the hinge hardware!

Merry Christmas Cindy! I was so happy to spend five minutes fixing a 7-month-old problem!
(And isn't it a much better gift than a dumb ol' diamond or solid gold gew-gaw?)

Strange Thoughts....

We were invited to go sledding today, and we had a great time (especially Cindy, who got to stay home and wrap, etc.), and at some point the following thoughts and images popped into my mind.

The first was....

"This is why she married me....."




...which was followed by....


"But this is why she keeps me!"




Lucky girl!?

My son's not like me PART 5276.23.3

Yesterday I got a call from an excited Cameron at work.
Obviously talking while high on adrenaline, he related how he had shot his BB gun at a rabbit in our backyard (about 25 yards away), that it had jumped up about 4 feet in the air, and then hobbled away.
He further said that he had followed the blood trail for a ways, and was going back out to try to find it.
Why?
"Because I want to find it, kill it, skin it, and eat it." (I can only hope that the missing phrase "cook it" was just an oversight....)
In a clinical manner he further explained that based on the color of the blood trail it was probably a lung shot or maybe a neck artery shot.
When I got off work, he had me out looking for it on the hill out back (he had already had Erin and her friend out looking). We never found it. There were rather large bloodstains at the places where the rabbit paused along the way. We are guessing that a hawk got it before we did.

Fast forward to this morning, 7 AM.
Cameron calls out to say he feels sick. He is soon bowing at the porcelain throne.
He returns to his room.
He asks me to look out the window and see if I can see any rabbits.
I look out back and see 2 on the walking path between the hills (about 40 yards from the house.)
I stupidly tell him that I see them.
He scampers downstairs.
I look out 2 minutes later.
He is wearing a coat and shorts (there is snow on the ground--it is probably 28 degrees).
He quietly sneaks back to the hunting zone.
He takes a shot from a long distance.
He misses.
He has the sense of mind to come back in.

He says he plans to relieve the entire area of rabbits.
I say that if he does that there won't be anything left to hunt.
He says that he will leave one.
I say that it takes two to make little baby rabbits.
"Not if the one is gay!" he retorts.
I kindly explain that gay rabbits are even less likely to have babies.

Fortunately his stomach starting hurting again, and he is laying on top of one of heating vent in the computer room, with visions of dead rabbits dancing in his head.