Month: June 2015

Twenty Questions

I spend a lot of time asking questions that are rhetorical or I already know the answer to. A really short catalog of my questions along with a few of my internet friends yielded a few interesting patterns.

1) We are really concerned with the status of children’s digestive processes.
2) Kids are like the messy roommate in college. Most of the questions can apply to both situations.
3) We are all (very) uninformed about the things going on right in front of us.
4) Kids know that cats are only nice because they aren’t big enough to kill you.

The Questions from my Facebook Dragnet. The subject was; What is something you ask your kids that would be inappropriate in a business meeting.?

Who left the toilet paper on the edge of the toilet and didn’t flush?

Did you wipe?
Who peed in the floor?
Would you please stop sitting on your sister?
Why is the cat locked in the closet?
Why are you taking your pants off?
Where are your pants?
Why are you naked?
Who stinks?
Did you poop?
Do you have to poop?
Will you PLEASE stop peeing on the floor?
Why is the cat locked in the closet?
Why are you naked?
Would you either nurse or get off the boob!?
You don’t need any more boob right now.
Did you poop?
Do you need me to come help you wipe your butt?
Did you just put a booger in your mouth?
What is going on in there?
Why are you guys so quiet?
Did you just wipe your face on your sister’s head?
What is on my shirt? A booger?
Can you stop licking things?
Don’t lick me while I’m talking to you.
Where are half of your shoes?
Do you intentionally hide one of every shoe that you own?

Do you have a good question to add to this list? Hit me up in the comments so everyone can enjoy. Honestly, this is a bit of a lazy post but I have been busy so humor me a little here.

One followup question. How is this dude still alive?

Just your friendly harbinger of the apocalypse. Sprinkle in the stray thoughts from his 123 year old brain trying to crank out complex biblical theory and we are all confused.

Just your friendly harbinger of the apocalypse. Sprinkle in the stray thoughts from his 123 year old brain trying to crank out complex biblical theory and we are all confused.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

The Buttery Hole

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

That is the profound phrase that was supposed to be represented on a flexible rubber drinking cup. It is a bar souvenir and has been changed to say, “Beauty is in the eye of the Beerholder.”

My second child is exploring the world of reading and as I walk into the living room I find her exploring this cup.

“What is this last word daddy?”

“Beerholder. It is supposed to say beholder and it is a turn of phrase that….”

“Can I try to read it?”

I thought that is what we were doing but I say, “Sure, tell me what it says.”

She stares for a minute like she is genuinely confused at what these letters are saying. I just told her the last word and I know she knows the others. Somehow, something in her brain overrides all previous knowledge and she reads proudly, “Butter is in the eye of the Butthole.”

“Wow. Not even close.”



“What does it say?”

“Nothing about sticks of fat or buttholes. Please don’t read anything out loud when we go to Walmart.”

“Okay daddy!”

“I love you!”

“I love you too!”

And that is the last we have mentioned of the buttery butthole incident. Prima moved on to an interpretive dance while watching Teen Titans, Go!.  I don’t think Jane has stopped laughing yet. Days later and she manages to stop for a gasp of air and a quick recap, “Butter in the eye of the butthole! Ah hahahaha.” This is one of the reasons we don’t leave the house much.

If you can cross out TV news anchor or proofreader as careers your children might enjoy, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

To A Patriarch


  1. Head of a family or tribe.
  2. Figures (biblical) regarded as the fathers of the human race.

Synonyms – Father, Leader, Elder

I am not the best of fathers. I am not a bad father but I have room for improvement. I am fun most of the time. I am overbearing sometimes and overprotective at others. I swear more often than I would like. We don’t do as many extracurricular activities as we should. We don’t do as many curricular activities as we should either. I could read more bedtime stories. I could teach the kids more about love and less about judgement. I could make less fart jokes but let’s face facts; Fart jokes are funny.

I have some work to do before I can reach the storied status of patriarch.

Luckily, I know what the job looks like. I have been under the guidance of several patriarchs and never even knew it. They all have a special place to me but this year is about one in particular. He had an interesting butterfly effect on my life and a domino effect into several others.

His name was Daddy Ron and he passed away this year after a battle with Alzheimer’s. I wore a pink tie because he was a father to daughters and the father is the side of him I saw the most.

Daddy Ron was married to Mama C and until I was about sixteen I thought that is what everyone called them. My mother also used those names for them, I assume, since they opened their home to her during a rough time in high school. Daddy Ron had two girls around the same age and they welcomed my mother as family, as a sister. Later their family made me feel like a grandchild and a nephew. I enjoy seeing their children because I feel like I have more cousins. They are one of several families who make me believe that blood is a minor factor in who your family becomes. The village is the family.

Daddy Ron had a big heart and a big laugh. He had a habit of inserting the word “there” or “okay” during pauses when he was delivering a story or a speech. I can’t remember a single petty or hurtful comment. He might have been honest and direct but he wasn’t a man of low blows. He was a man of faith and more than that, he helped me remember that there is a positive message to faith that is becoming more uncommon lately; Love. He passed that trait down with ease.

My mother had the chance to repay the original favor of providing a home as a teacher in the very same high school she had attended. Life has a funny way of boomeranging. In our house I knew it would never be a question, if anyone truly needs a place to stay or a bite to eat and we can provide, it will be automatic. I’ve tried to hold the same standard. Each time I’ve seen love paid forward, the people who come out the other side of their struggles are better than they thought they could be.

Daddy Ron was a patriarch and the definition falls a little short. I think it goes beyond being a good father and includes making great fathers as well.

Everyone knows I enjoy good irony and I think Daddy Ron got the last laugh over Alzheimer’s. It is a disease that erases your legacy within your own mind. Little did it know, he created something that extended out into the world and as he forgot things his legacy returned to remind him. That is what life is all about.

Happy Father’s Day.

Threeto Saw Nothing

I often lament the extent to which I have totally given up on things I used to try and prevent. One of these things is fighting and physical altercations. Sure, I correct any overt aggression but in general if they squabble and there is no blood or unconsciousness then I don’t worry too much. What choice do I have when sometimes, the kid who dishes it out also takes it back just as hard and doesn’t bat an eye? Now, add the fact that the younger kids are each tougher than the one before. (Except for Prima who is the resident ballerina and a fragile drama queen.)

Don Threeto, America’s favorite mini-gangster girl, has continued to impress me with her toughness this week. Most physical impact situations involve play that turns too rough and after a collision there is some crying and we have to investigate.

Situation #1: Don Threeto crashes into something or someone and we rush to see what the damage is. Her nose is bleeding slightly but she insists nothing happened. Maybe she walked into a wall and is embarrassed. I may never know but I ask anyway.

“Are you okay?”


“What happened?”

“…” Her eyes move from side to side avoiding my gaze and she shrugs her shoulders and says, “Can I go play now?”

That’s pretty gangsta so I let it slide. The nose appeared intact so what do you do? No one seemed to see anything.

Situation #2: I see the kids spinning circles in the living room and I give the obligatory “Stop. No. Don’t do that.” I go into the kitchen and, within five seconds, hear a thump followed by Lady Bug screaming. I sigh deeply and trod back to the living room.

Sure enough Lady Bug is sitting on the ground with a red spot on her cheek where it undoubtedly made contact with something hard. I scan the situation to try and piece this together because I don’t expect anyone to fess up. Prima has a wide-eyed look that tells me she wasn’t involved. She is panicked that she will be in trouble and lose her iPad. Don Threeto is curled up in a ball on the couch. Her face is pressed into her knees. She is trying to hide from me by disguising herself as a throw pillow. I pick her up to talk about what happened and I see that her eye is red along the area between the eye and the eyebrow. She bumped heads with Lady Bug and got the worse end of the deal.

“What happened?”


“Why is your eye swollen.”

“It isn’t”, she says but I can see clearly that it is swelling shut.

I try to give her a chance to just talk, “….Okay. Do you feel okay?”

“I feel good daddy. Do you feel good?” She smiles and looks suddenly concerned about my well being.

Now I wonder if I am hurt? She is trying to redirect. I have to remind myself that they did this to me earlier in a conversation about boogers. I snap out of the mental trap. “I’m fine. Are you sure you didn’t just smash your face into your sister.”


“Why is she crying?”

“I don’t know.”, accompanied by holding her hands up and shrugging shoulders again.

Lady Bug shakes it off and resumes playing and the red mark is almost gone. Don Threeto has an impressive black eye. I think proper consequence has already been dealt out so I let this go too. I still can’t believe that she would basically get punched in the eye and not even flinch at telling me she was fine. A day later and the eye is half shut from swelling and she is still mute on the issue. Acts like nothing ever happened. Hard core.

If you let your kids roll with the punches then this post is for you. You’re welcome. I don’t know what to do about it either.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Story Pirate Story

We finally heard Jane and Prima’s story pirate show on XM Radio and I wanted to share because I think it is really cool and random. It is a compelling tale of…. I’m not sure exactly but there are rock star horses and high-browed cats so that is fun.

So here is me trying to post it for you guys.


I will put it on the Facebook Page too just in case.