Don Threeto

Tuesday Trifecta

So this was a hilarious week. I don’t really want to oversell it before we get into the meat of the matter but there were several points that I enjoyed; Don Threeto has some new quirks, we got some cool new refrigerator art (also known as why I should never be rich), and I had a conversation with a complete stranger and received pivotal life advice.

Don Threeto

The week kicked off with this post from Supermom.


Funny, I would blame the pilot of the vacuum box. Sounds kind of awesome really. 

Plus she has developed an imaginary soap opera that is based solely on four colored sippy cups. This edge-of-your-seat drama is known as “Cup World”. In Cup World everyone has a name that is determined by taking your dominate color and adding an “-ie”. Maybe a “y” in case of obvious grammatical correctness. For example, the blue cup is Bluey and the green cup is Greenie. I was informed that in this magical world that I would be either Whitey or Tannie.

This game has not been a passing interest kind of thing. It has been going on for about a week and the story line has gotten serious. Some of the cups have been kidnapped. The no spill cups have been tortured for their secrets but refused to talk, which is consistent with what I expect from any no-spill container.

The cups get split up at night but are reunited with smiles and a warm embrace in the morning. I will try and keep everyone updated as their story continues to unfold.

Don’t Give Rednecks Disposable Income

My oldest daughter asked me what I would do if I won the lottery. I told her that I would do all of the craziest things I could think of just to confuse and frustrate people. I still think my idea to build an entire town and hire people to live in it like a weird mix-mash of The Truman Show and Friends is the best idea yet. Alas, I did not win the lottery so I had to settle for the next best thing.

We went shopping at a discount store and I bought some super classy magnets.


I am not one for frivolity so I put the Cat Butts or, as the package said, Derrieres De Chat on the refrigerator. Prima instantly looked into the kitchen and asked, “Are those cat butts?” I said, “Yes”. She went on with her life because a fridge adorned with cat butts isn’t that strange around our house.


I thought the confused dog was a nice touch.

Life Advice From A True Buddha Dharma

At work this week I was helping out with a job that is fairly labor intensive. My definition of fairly labor intensive is when I hold any type of tool and I use it for more than an hour. Basically I was doing the equivalent of spreading mulch and my back hates me for it but that is another story. This story is about my strange visitor.

I look up from my sporadic shoveling and I see a man approaching in what appears to be a sweat shirt trimmed out into a vest with a pair of dull scissors. Like he got the cut started and just tore a vee-neck into the thing with his teeth. He smiles at me and waves enthusiastically. I think that I must know this man if he is forward enough to walk right on to a job site and wave at me. I put down my shovel and walked up to greet him.

Me: Hi there. How are you today?
Strange Man Who Smells of Beer at 11am: HI! My name is Frank!
Me: Hello Frank.
Frank: What are you guys doing here?
Me: Oh you know… work of the world. Trying to make things better.
Frank: I used to do some construction work in the construction businesses.
Me: That is a great place to do construction work.
Frank: I know right! But I don’t do that much anymore. I ain’t done much today either. I’m a little drunk and just seeing what you are doing.
Me: Okay. I noticed you seemed a bit energetic for a man in a tangled sweat shirt.
Frank: Yeah it’s blue. My name is Frank.
Me: Hello Frank. It’s nice to meet you.
Frank: You too! Hey you seem nice so I am going to tell you something.
(I could tell that this would be good. The look on his face was suddenly very serious. Even more serious because he had a thin layer of sweat and flushed red cheeks)
Me: Okay.
Frank: I have some really good life advice. If there is one thing I know it is this.
Me: Let’er rip man. I love good life advice.
Frank: Don’t never have no three way with girls from this county. They will just run off together and there you have to pay both them bitches child support for eighteen years.
Me: (My outer reaction was solemn contemplation but inside I was thinking “Oh shit” and trying not to laugh) Frank, that is some of the best advice I have ever heard.
Frank: It’s true.
Me: I have no doubt. You strike me as a man with no reason to lie. If I ever find myself at such a crossroads I will remember your cautionary tale of woe. I tell you what… It was nice meeting you but I have to get back to work. You be careful.
Frank: I don’t want to get in the way. My name is Frank.
Me: Nice to meet you Frank. You might want to move though because that beeping sound is a dump truck backing up. Be careful out there buddy.
Frank: Thanks man! You too!

And with a final wave Frank ambled off towards an inevitable DUI and/or a horrific machinery related accident. I didn’t actually notice a vehicle so I can only hope he was using his feet for transportation. While I pondered his story I had to admit that given his circumstances, drinking at 11am on a week day might not be the toughest struggle in his life. I like to think that Frank is something like an angel walking the roads of life, appearing supernaturally, and handing out random advice to put people’s personal problems in perspective.

So if you have fun sliding in boxes down stairs, enjoy cat butts, or have long term regrets about your personal choices this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Edge of the Cliff Notes

Fun Conversations

Jane: Can we have a balloon?
Underdaddy: No. You will pop it in two seconds and then you will leave the plastic in the floor. Toby will eat the plastic and die. Then I will have to bury him in the backyard and I don’t feel like digging a hole right now.
Jane: You could bury him tomorrow.
Underdaddy: I think you missed my point.

Still looking like a smug asshole. Fetch me a soda water peasant.

Still looking like a Caesar of the household. Fetch me a soda water peasant.

Underdaddy: Supermom… What do you know about this little plastic pony?
Supermom: (from the bedroom) What pony?
Underdaddy: The one with the turd on it. In the cat’s water bowl.
Supermom: That isn’t the cat’s water bowl.
Underdaddy: So you know about the pony?
Supermom: No. I just know the cat uses Biscuit’s bowl for water.
Underdaddy: Nevermind.


Underdaddy: Threeto! Stop licking everything. Jesus.
Threeto: What can I lick?
Underdaddy: Nothing! Maybe a lollipop but even that is sort of frivolous… (Looks at Prima digging at her wedgie) Prima! Get your hand out of your pants.
Supermom: *giggles and posts to Facebook*

Prima: Daddy can we paint?

Underdaddy: No you never clean up the mess.
Prima: We will this time.
Underdaddy: You never do. You can’t go backwards, you have to do good first.
Prima: Not if you let us…

Fun Discoveries

There are worse things to step on than Legos. We have a battery powered Tea Light that could double as a road spike for law enforcement. I could run a rope through my foot and audition as Pinocchio on broadway. “OOOOOHHHH, I got no strings to hold me down, to lift me up, to make me frown, I had strings but you can see, I got no strings on me.” Nice right?

Tea Light

Kids are total suckers for magician-style misdirection. They are still confused how I can make balloons change colors. Basically I hold one balloon way up in the air while doing whatever I want with my other hand. I could thumb wrestle, play piano, or grab another color of balloon and stick it in my back pocket.

My oldest child can fly. More on that later…

Oh yeah. Cat vomit is super slippery. I wonder if NASA knows about the lubricant properties of cat vomit. It might be useful in zero gravity space tools.

While I do plan to write the story of how Jane learned to fly, I haven’t exactly had time to write much lately. If life bogs you down and you only have time to put together the Cliff Notes, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Gotcha Sucker!

Her strategic thinking always amazes me. Don Threeto, my resident gangster and third youngest girl, has shown me that she has the long term planning skills necessary to be truly diabolical. She recently put in place a plan that took months to fully develop. Sitting here this morning I realized that a string of seemingly unrelated events were, in fact, related and very purposeful.

If you read any of my stories with “Threeto” in the title you can see how she sets the bar for military level strategy. Let’s take a stroll through the ‘unrelated events’ and reveal the truth.

  • She has convinced me she enjoys physical violence. She likes games like Face-Punch and How-Hard-Can-You-Punch-Me. I find her with a red eye or a bloody nose and when the other three would be squealing like baby piglets, Threeto insists that her injuries are normal and nothing happened. She has looked me dead in the eye with one eye swollen shut and said, “I feel fine. I don’t know what you are talking about.” What I learned -> She is tough.
  • This child licks every surface that she can get her face near. She chews on her toys. She insists on stealing her younger sister’s pacifier. Why would someone have such a disregard for germs? I mean, I have literally blocked her face from licking a toilet seat at the last second. I thought it was just habitual because she acts like a puppy a lot of the time and holds her “paws” up to her chest and licks things. This behavior is a ruse. What I learned -> She wants to be sick.
  • At the same time, she is attempting to keep illness from her sisters. She insists on being first to open the door, she tries to hoard all the toys (after licking them), and she steals all the pacifiers. I thought she was being very selfish but my new theory is that -> She doesn’t want her sisters to get sick.


So why would these discoveries be important?

Well, two nights ago The Don is obviously not feeling well. She isn’t running in circles in the living room or sitting up on the couch. Usually, she is standing on the back of the couch so laying on it was strange. She had a small fever and complained of a sore throat. Everyone has had trouble with fall allergies so I thought that was all she had going on. I gave her a little Mortin to help with the sore throat and as soon as her throat felt better she hit the roof and was back to her old self. I thought in the back of my mind that it might be Strep so I asked her if she though she should go to the doctor. I expected a “no” because what child wants to go to the doctor’s office? She said, “Yeah probably”. Hmmm.

We also needed some things from the store. (I go to Wal-Mart 6 out of 7 days in a week) I decided she could ride to the store with me and I could decide on the way which direction we should go. We talked about it for a minute.

“So you want to go to the doctor?”


“Why? Do you want a shot?”


“You understand what I mean right?”


“Do you want to go to Walmart?”

“Yeah but after the doctor.”

I wasn’t convinced. There was an unnatural desire for medical intervention and I didn’t believe her. We went to Walmart.

The next day she continued to lay around and feel less than awesome. I loaded her up and we went to the walk-in clinic. She was a chatterbox at check-in.

Great. Wasting a co-pay here. The nurse checked her temperature.

98.1. Awesome. I have been duped again.

The doctor came in and seemed to have her doubts but we did a throat swab. Threeto hates feeling out of control or overpowered, which makes total sense for an alpha criminal mastermind. She let me hold her arms while the nurse swabbed her throat and tears ran down her face but she never fought it once. I was impressed. Speechless. The test came back positive for Strep and we got a prescription for antibiotics. Then the truth was set free.

The compassionate nurse was so impressed with Threeto’s strength and resolve that she wanted to reward her. “Would you like a sucker for being so good?”

The heavens opened and a smile spread across her face. A diabolical smile that said, “My plan has succeeded! Hahahahaha!” Although, being an expert in deception, she merely smiled and said, “Yes please.” She held the sucker like an Olympic Gold Medal. She marveled in the reward of all her hard work.

Threeto is a force to be reckoned with. She knew that in a household of crying and estrogen fueled complaining, she would need to stand out as tough so when she was sick we would notice. Then she knew she had to get sick if she had any hope of reaching her sucker and sticker utopia. We are forever telling the kids not to lick things because of germs so she deduced that getting sick required licking. Then she ensured her victory by keeping the illness from the other sisters. If one of them went to the doctor first then she may not get rewarded for her hard work.


I think we may negotiate a deal on suckers and stickers. Regular payments for protecting herself from sickness. The Godfather made his start providing protection to people in exchange for payments. She has taken it to the extreme by blackmailing me using her own health. She may be the most powerful leader in history.

The Gandhi of gangster.

If you are outsmarted, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Snap Crackle Popped

It is important to learn cause and effect. Darwinism comes to mind when considering how important it is for young animals to learn from their mistakes and grow into adulthood. For instance, Dodo birds were really crappy at dodging angry people trying to beat them to death with clubs. Hence, extinction for the dodo. We must learn dangers if we are going to survive.

Recently Don Threeto stayed overnight with the grandparents for a little one-on-one time for more personal attention. The plan for the day was swimming. Granddaddy put her in a swim suit, slathered her in sunscreen, and sat her at the breakfast counter with a Rice Krispy treat. She was enjoying her treat peacefully but suddenly began crying. Screaming. The ugly faced cry I’m sure. Threeto likes to scream and get you good and worried but then she refuses to say anything close to actual words. That day was no different. She cried for thirty minutes and was so upset that she didn’t even finish her Rice Krispy treat. That is a big deal for my kids because if food hits the ground it gets scavenged by someone or some thing, like prison rules in the cafeteria but with Lunchables.

Fast forward a few more minutes and everyone is ready for some time at the pool. As they are preparing to go outside Granddaddy hands Threeto the leftover piece of the Rice Krispy treat and she refuses to take it. She says, “Those burn my eyes.” Apparently while eating the treat she rubbed her eyes and the slathering of sunscreen set them on fire. Now she thinks eating Rice Krispy unleashes holy hell-fire in the upper face area. Totally reasonable I guess.

I wish I could mis-associate ice cream or brownies. Wait. No I don’t. Those things are both delicious.

If you wonder about your children and their power of logical thought, this post is for you.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

For the new folks who don’t know Don Threeto. Here is the rundown.

I Am A Time Traveler

I may be a time traveler.

Correction. I must be a time traveler.

Not the kind of time traveler that you are accustomed to reading about in an HG Wells novel. There are no Eloi living above ground in silky dresses. My character will never be played by Michael J. Fox riding a skateboard to the tune of Huey Lewis and the News. My shiny Delorian is actually a Honda Odyssey with four kid’s seats, 23 cup holders, and a headrest that is well suited for hanging a diaper bag that a wallaby named Tobias calls ‘Home’. My theme song is the intro to Sponge Bob Squarepants. The only thing that would have made the drive worse would be no AC like the picture above of my ancestry in their stylish Ford.

Today, my fully loaded grocery getter, confirmed Einstein’s theory of general relativity. Alien abductions are associated with “lost time” events. Road trips with my group result in “found time” events. The faster I drove the more time I found had passed between each stop. The trip was one we have completed many, many times in the past. All records indicated that this trip should take approximately 5.0 hours from driveway to driveway. We shattered records with an impressive 7.5 hours.

I know this claim is so outrageous that you might not believe me so I have included a play-by-play as evidence.

11:30 am – We departed from a city in the east and were headed west. Since the hour was near lunch the loving grandparents sent us away with Lunchables and snacks for the kids. We even had a box of juices. Supermom and I thought we had better grab some lunch at a drive thru before hitting the interstate. Zaxby’s seemed as good as anything so we zipped around and ordered two snacks to-go. While we waited, Supermom started to distribute Lunchables and noticed that two of them were pizzas and needed to be heated. The minivan is a top-shelf swagger wagon but we did not get the microwave option. She went inside to get a few (4) kids meals because everyone has to have the same meals or a blackhole will form in the universe.

11:50 am – Supermom returns with the meals and Don Threeto pulls off a perfect delay tactic of “I have to pee.” I take her inside to pee and after that ordeal of her explaining to me that she isn’t a boy we loaded up and were on the way again.

12:05 pm – It starts to rain just enough to make me question if automatic wipers are needed. There was not quite enough rain to lube the wipers but enough that I couldn’t see well. We got in a small fight about me hitting the wiper arm manually. This rain continued for the next fifty miles.

12:45 pm – Interstate traffic comes to a complete stop as we see a large gathering of people in the road ahead of us. We pulled out Waze (a super cool app that you really should use on trips, thanks Ben) and we found that there was an accident about 500 feet ahead of us. A truck pulling a large camper had jackknifed and flipped on the side of a mountain. The passengers seemed okay but the camper and truck were in pieces. I hope everyone is okay. Luckily we were close enough behind this accident that we made it around in only 15 minutes.

1:30 pm – I have to pee so we stop. The car could use a full tank of gas so that happens too. Then the three older girls have to pee. I send them into the restroom as a group with instructions to a) not touch anything and b) help each other with hand washing and whatnot. Fifteen minutes later three girls emerge with arms wet from the elbows down. I don’t even care why. We get in the car and start to leave. Lady Bug has a wet diaper so we pull to the side to change it before continuing. Back on the road at 1:50.

2:15 pm – The rain has finally stopped but Lady Bug has started crying. We turn on a movie on the kick-ass DVD player and traffic comes to a halt. Once again, Waze informs us of an accident and we are able to reroute on local roads to bypass. This accident was a large semi-trailer that caught on fire. The cargo burned so hotly that the remains of the truck fit neatly on a flatbed tow truck. We saw this on the exit just past the accident but I am getting ahead of myself.

2:35 pm – We are travelling down a local road in a small town that I haven’t seen before. Supermom is trying to feed Toby (the wallaby for the newcomers). Lady Bug is still crying. Just as we beg her to stop or to tell us what is wrong, she projectile vomits into the back of my seat and her own lap. It looked like her face was pouring out a cup of wet cornmeal. Awesome.

2:40 pm – The clothes have been changed. Wipes are piled with bits of chewed chicken and fries in a Walmart bag. I can smell it in the cloth of the car seat. The three other kids are giving us helpful information like, “She threw up”, “I can smell it”, and “I’m hungry.” Not kidding.

3:00 pm – We are back on the road. And travel uneventfully for an hour before the next round of events.

4:00 pm – Lady Bug starts crying without any clear reason. Supermom knows what is up and starts to climb in the back to be prepared. Sure enough, she rockets the pacifier out of her mouth using only bodily fluids. I keep my eyes on the road but I hear the sound of rocks hitting wet mud. A splat of puke spattering around. We are ten miles from an exit so Supermom gets things cleaned up the best she can. The first exit we come to is busy so we opt to keep going a few miles to one that is more user friendly.

4:30 pm – Lady Bug seems better and is watching a movie. Supermom goes into the gas station I assume looking for a large bag of marijuana but returning instead with Sour Patch Kids and a soft drink.

4:50 pm – We are back on the highway On the home stretch. Lady Bug pukes again and gets her clothes this time. We stop at the first available exit which is an abandoned hotel and a small gas station. This time we change Lady Bug into last night’s pjs and the fast food bag from lunch is over flowing with used wipes. Supermom insists that she needs to wash her hands. I suggest we go down to the next exit because this gas station looks rough. She insists we stay there and she goes inside to wash her hands. She returns to tell me about the barefoot lady who was popping pimples into the sink where she needed to wash her hands. We continued to the next exit.

5:15 pm – We decide that Lady Bug is either car sick or has allergy snot that is making her stomach unstable. She is fun and lively right up to the vomit thing. The joint committee on blind decision parenting decided to try some Benadryl to settle her allergies and maybe help her relax for the rest of the ride. The gas station didn’t have a children’s liquid. I started to crush a pill and mix with some Advil (I know the appropriate dosage) and a car pulled up beside me powdering a pill into a syringe to give to my two year old. I felt like a champ once again. She was given the dose and made a terrible face because of the taste of the Benadryl. I gave her the slightest taste of juice to help her out. How does she repay me? That’s right, by vomiting everything at approximately 5:30 pm while we are once again on the interstate. To which Threeto comments, “I didnt see that coming!” Really???

5:31 pm – We are an hour away from home base. Supermom has cleaned the best she can but the car seat is soaked. Lady bug is floating in and out of consciousness. The other three are asking for constant status updates. Supermom is fighting a migraine and Toby is preparing an impressive wallaby scented present of his own. I don’t even care.

5:32 pm – I vow to the Lord Jesus Christ that this van will not stop until it is in the driveway and I will chisel everyone out of whatever crusty coat of excrement they have created but not a second before. We are a solid hour from the exit.

6:20 pm – Almost there. Everyone is tense from some tense question and answer sessions. We notice a beaten up truck in front of us taunting another vehicle. The driver of the truck pulls along side the other vehicle and he reaches out to punch their side mirror. In the back of the beaten up truck I can see the silhouette of a small child bouncing around, I assume drinking Mountain Dew in their underwear.

6:30 pm – Off the exit.

6:45 pm – Into the driveway. I carry Lady Bug into the house and my shirt is soaked in stomach juices leaving a dark green pattern down my front. I disregard and carry in several loads of bags with a dead look in my eyes.

7:10 – Luggage is inside. Lady Bug springs to life and is running in circles and laughing. No fever. Fantastic. The wallaby is another story. Stress of travel has made him into a squirrel shaped salad shooter. I grab the keys and head back out the door to Walmart to get supplies for the week. I notice that I smell like a cooked ham that got left in a bay window in July.

This is why we need flying cars and the knockout medicine that Dexter uses on his victims. I just want it to travel across the state in piece without need for gloves. Snoop dog doesn’t stock the stick icky that I need to get through that again.

If you ever feel like life is against you on a road trip. This post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.