Thursday, December 9, 2010

Scenes before school (including the daily insult).

Serious parental disciplinary failure this morning. Primus and Secundus squabbling over use of the laptop. Feisty S. bats away the muffin P. was eating.

"You broke my breakfast!" Primus protests angrily.

Alas, Daddy unable to supply the necessary stentorian correction because of the fit of giggling brought on by the phrase. Primus doesn't see the funny side, but is mollified when I say that I'll blog the event. Consider it done, P.

Primus is quite taken by this blog, incidentally, having read a few recent entries yesterday evening.

"It's funny. You're a good writer," he says. The beam of fatherly pride disappears from my face when he adds, "You write a lot better than you speak."

A little later this morning, the Magic 8-ball has resurfaced from the plastic undergrowth.

"Is Daddy awesome?" demands Secundus, and to his credit, he gave it the three tries it needed before he got a grudgingly positive response. Next, it's the dog's turn.

La bete blanche, avec le nez rose
"Is Leila awesome?"

Alas, the answer is no. Undaunted, Secundus tries "Is Leila the super totally awesomely best dog ever?"

And this time we get a yes, which accounts for the earlier answer -- our first question was unworthy of the reality. I admire Secundus's persistence, although I'm dimly troubled that it uses an approach to the truth that's the basis of several dubious religions.


  1. When my boys were younger, and forced to share the back seat in the car, one would complain, in all seriousness, about about the other "breathing my air".

  2. Minivan. Three rows of seats. One purchase I'll never regret.

  3. That dog is the epitome of awesome...