Five Textures

Everyone seemed to enjoy the candid conversations via technology that I enjoy on a daily basis. The cool thing about texts is that they get put in a string of conversation but they aren’t necessarily related. Here are five of my most recent favorites.


One morning we were late leaving the house in a mad rush and Supermom decided to drive the kids to school while wearing her PJ’s. She got about a mile down the road and saw that she needed fuel, asap. She called me and asked me to stop at the gas station and pump her gas which I did gladly. We were both late so when I finished I walked to her open window and gave her a quick kiss and left Don Threeto had a cute explanation of why we stopped at the gas station together.


Dirk the 4th Chipmunk is a Kids Place Live satellite radio character. So that would be interesting. 

The next few texts show a decline of sanity and peacefulness in the household from morning to the afternoon. Don Threeto was the main culprit who masterminded the downward spiral.



Apparently the kids decided to have some fun that was safer but messier. Supermom was not amused.



Things continued in the downward spiral and ended with me needing to fix the cord on our new vacuum.


K is Kolaso, our bunny rabbit. Now I feel like working late. 

If you hang out with kids long enough then you start to consider things like never having another one. The drama culminated with a universal appreciation for birth control.


Strangely she didn’t reply. I thought it was funny. 

If you missed round one of my favorite texts then you can find more here.

If you are curious about what snip snip is referring to, click here. Surely you know but if you ever wondered what actually happens then give it a read.

If you enjoy a marriage with a sense of humor, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Here Be Dragons

So Jane has decided she likes dragons. She has a book that catalogs the dragons of the world and gives locations with names and features. An animated book but to an eight year old, it is the Dragon Bible.

One morning she was being particularly insistent on us getting a dragon that I made a deal with her; If you find a real dragon that breathes fire and flies then we will buy it. “FOR REAL?” “Yes, For REAL.” Assuming of course that it is for sale. We might have to capture it. Using the pure imagination of a child she smiled and was inspired to find this mystical creature.

I heard about finding a dragon for the next week. We talked about hunting them.

“Daddy do you think we will find one?”

“I’ve never seen one but who knows. You might as well keep looking just in case.”

Rinse. Repeat.

Fast forward to Saturday and Supermom and I are shopping at the Toy Story with three of the four. Later that day we had scheduled a dragon hunt. Jane was riding horses and excited about the pending quest. As we came around the very last aisle, there was a bargain bin of…dragons. Prima and Threeto grabbed a couple right away and were in love. From there we hatched a plan.

I selected four dragons for a “price check” and bought them and hid them in the trunk. Then I told the girls that the story had made a mistake and the dragons weren’t for sale. Luckily they have the attention span of a drunken kitten. Step two was to race to Grandma’s house and I hiked into the woods to hide the dragons.

Once Jane arrived I gave the ground rules for the hunt and everyone hit the ground running. The excitement grew with the first successful capture. The last dragon was the hardest to find and required rolling under a barbed wire fence. Side note: I need to diet. Now.

Everyone showing their trophy hunt!

Everyone showing their trophy hunt!

Of course, leave it to Prima to say, “OMG these look just like the ones at Toys-R-Us”

Already in the action! Dragon nibbles.

Already in the action! Dragon nibbles.

Say Cheese! Probably the only "hunt" Supermom will ever take part in.

Say Cheese! Probably the only “hunt” Supermom will ever take part in.

Suffice it to say, they love their dragons. They have gotten along for five days because of these dragons. They used iPads and made videos.

Fun fact: Dragons are good babysitters.

Fun fact: Dragons are good babysitters.

This mission was a total success. Jane made a good decision to create some protective goggles for the fire breath.

Very steam-punk kind of vibe.

Very steam-punk kind of vibe.

It is good to have a success amidst failure. I haven’t even told everyone about the rabbits in my backyard yet. Fail.

So cute though. Except for waking up at 6:45 on a Wednesday morning to find that the oldest two girls brought in three rabbits and released them into the house unattended. They did spread hay around just in case the rabbits got hungry. So I walked out of the bedroom and tried to dodge a minefield of rabbit poop, hay, and actual rabbits that were burrowed into piles of dirty laundry. I think it was a new low. I didn’t even have a response for the girls. I just pointed at the door and glared.

I dont think the dragons are helping with the mental health of the bunnies.

I dont think the dragons are helping with the mental health of the bunnies.

If you ever enjoy a one step forward and two steps back kind of existence, this post is for you. You’re welcome. And let me know if you want a bunny. We have two left.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Silence of the Rabbits

Goals in life should be simple and attainable. As a parent I have a few goals for my children. First and foremost is the goal to keep my girls off of drugs and a stripper pole. Almost any other profession will do. They can aspire to be a sock designer for pinkie toe amputees, I support that. But dear sweet baby Jesus, don’t let them dance on a pole for money, Amen.

My secondary goal is to avoid mental and emotional scars. I know this may be unavoidable at some level but I like to take a stroll down memory lane every now and then just to consider things that affected me in some way.

Sometimes the incidents were just a perfect storm for leaving an impression on a small child. For instance, one time my mother left me with a baby sitter while she went and got a haircut. She left with long straight brown hair and returned with what my mind remembers as a brunette Shirley Temple-ish short and super curly perm. To this day I don’t like short curly hair and my wife even feared I would leave her after the hairstylist got a little loose with the scissors. Of course this quirk isn’t anyone’s fault really but you can’t change how you feel.

Other scars are definitely someone’s fault. This memory starts with my sister getting a black fuzzy rabbit named Jack. My mother is probably reading this story and thinking, “Oh God where is this going?” You know…. And make a note, the poor decision was totally the neighbor. My mother was just as traumatized as we were I’m sure.

So one good rabbit deserves another and we get Jack a girlfriend. Rabbits can reproduce about every fifteen minutes so in no time at all we had lots of rabbits. The only thing that really kept them at bay was the fact that a male rabbit will eat the babies about half of the time because he knows he can’t afford rabbit diapers or rabbit cars at sixteen or five hundred rabbit weddings. Good call rabbit dad, nip it in the bud early.

Anyway, long story short, we had lots of extra rabbits that needed to leave. Luckily we had a neighbor who wanted free rabbits. He was interested in eating the cute little bunnies but there was no reason to tell the children. Just let him come pick up the rabbits and take them away to a happy farm. When you live in the country neighbors are trusted friends so the offer for free rabbits was a standing offer and the neighbor was encouraged to come “get” the rabbits whenever it was convenient.

That happened to be a day that my sister and I were playing in the backyard within sight of the cage. Our neighbor walks into the yard with a smile and a wave… and a burlap sack. We watch with curiosity as he goes to the rabbit cage and sets the sack on the ground beside a large oak tree. How can he possibly get all those rabbits into a sack of that size without them running out? He really needs a box or crate or something…

Up until this day I didn’t know rabbits could make a sound. It is a weird half-screech, half-squeal. The neighbor reached into the cage and grabbed one of the bunnies by the hind legs and it let out the squeal while he dragged it out. Then in a single smooth motion he pops the bunny against the tree and tosses it into the sack. I don’t remember ancillary details but my sister claims that my mother carried her inside quickly. I know I stood slack-jawed watching scared rabbits get smacked against a tree and thrown in a burlap sack. A redneck assembly line of squealing death.

Growing up on the farm I knew about the life and death and food chain cycle. We had a different pig every year with the same name, Spec. We had a cow that we would name Christmas. I had helped behead chickens and chase down their headless bodies. I knew what it really looked like to run around like a chicken with your head cut off. But the rabbit thing seemed awful. That asshole neighbor left my poor mother with no chance of lying to us and there was really nothing to be said, just an uncomfortable silence at dinner that night. I don’t know if it was mentioned much since but my sister remembered almost instantly. We laughed harder and longer than we should have but some stories are screwy enough they have to be funny.

So if you are feeling bad about not censoring yourself enough just remember that until you are pulling pet bunnies out of a cage and smashing them in front of the children/owners you aren’t doing that bad. It’s a low bar but my neighbor was a real piece of work. You’re welcome.

Underdaddy to the rescue.