Patrick's Cups Runneth Over

I guess it’s only fitting that Patrick would go shopping for an Easter bonnet a few days before Easter. How else could one explain the fact that he first tried a bra on his head in the lingerie shop at a big-box store, mom Melissa reports.

But there weren’t any frills upon it, so the 2-year-old must have thought “arrrrrrrrgh,” because his second attempt was to try it as an eye patch. The lad loves playing pirates, but he apparently saw the error of his ways because the cup obviously runneth over most of his face instead of his eye.

So he got down to business and put things in their proper places.

Although the look is rather fetching (somebody should caution him not to wear a white shirt with that color), I think he can downsize, don’tcha think?


While he’s checking out starters, he’ll probably stumble across the fact that he really should be looking at a cup of a different sort. Well, some day — and a day that will come in the blink of an eye, as Melissa will find out, as she already is discovering with the other three horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Although his varied attempts to wear what I used to call a double slingshot, in my immature days (some say they’re not over), may indicate that he’s unclear on the concept, evidence abounds that he knows exactly what bras are for. Time was, back before he was weaned from the trough, he would tug violently at Melissa’s blouse when he wanted a snort.

Speaking of snorts, all of this reminds me of an incident lo, those many days ago, when Vincent, who is 9 now, was just about the age that Patrick is now and frequently experienced withdrawal symptoms after his weaning.

One day, when he happened to be in the bedroom when Melissa was dressing. He looked longingly at his former sources of nourishment, and pleaded, “Can’t I just smell them?”

I used to relate that anecdote during speaking gigs about grandfathering to audiences who were mostly grandparents themselves, and usually mostly female. It invariably brought chuckles and an occasional guffaw.

In one case, I spoke to a group that was about 50-50 male-female. After peals of laughter subsided, a gentleman who appeared to be about 70 turned to his wife and whined, too loudly, as it turned out, “That’s all I want to do!”

That left many in the audience laughing so hard that they FOTCL, as the kids would say these days.

Sooooooooo, no matter how you wear your bonnet, or whether there are frills upon it, have a happy and holy Easter or, if you’re of Jewish descent, a blessed Passover season.

P.S.: In another example of the fact that kids say the darndest things, unwittingly leaving others with red faces, 7-year-old Jack was touring a police station today and the police officer took out his handcuffs to show the lads and the den leaders. Jack raised his hand and said, "My Papa Mike has handcuffs in his bedroom and I can get out of them without the key!"

Now, let me explain: Doesn't everybody have handcuffs around in case there's a burglar? Oh, never mind.

P.P.S.: Updating with a few Easter pix, triangulated to the points of my grandchildren stars from California, to the Twin Cities, to Florida.

Amelia, the sole granddaughter of the bunch (so far):



Avery, decked out in his three-piece suit:



And the Four Horsemen, from left, Patrick (he went with a braless look for Easter), Vincent, Luke, and Jack:



Here's the backstory on this photo: I used to drive Melissa bonkers when she was trying to take family photos, and I'd make a face to bollix up the works. Now is payback time for her, obviously

A Treat Is in the Ear of the Beholder (and Sometimes, All Over Her Face)

As someone who’s been accused of lifting anal tendencies to a whole new level, I can appreciate a lad’s linear thinking. Thus, I wasn’t surprised at Jack’s befuddlement at church a couple of weeks back.

It was a special occasion, when Luke was to line up on the steps of the altar with his preschool classmates to lift their voices in song. Of course, such performances are loaded with anticipation about who’s going to sing, who’s going to remain as tongue-tied as a shy high-schooler asking a girl to dance for the first time, who might start bawling, and, of course, who will steal the show with a faux pas and then run with it when peals of laughter encourage him to keep on keeping on with his shenanigans.

So, we kept our eyes and ears peeled for such shenanigans, the minister assured us, “I’ve heard these children sing, and I promise you, you’re in for a real treat!”

Literal-thinking Jack’s face contorted with puzzlement as he nudged closer to me and whispered, “Does that mean we’re going to get food?”

I smiled and recalled his reaction just a couple of years back when the previous minister had invited the youngsters up to circle at the foot of the altar for the children’s sermon. The minister told the circle of children he was going to tell them about Peanuts, without realizing that that age group knew little or nothing about that age-old comic strip.

Jack’s face peeked up from the cluster of children like a meerkat checking the outskirts of his colony as the lad mouthed this question to me: “Penis?”



I had to stifle a laugh at the fact not only that kids these days say the darndest things because they use the sophisticated for body parts that our parents never would have DREAMED teaching us such terms.

In this case, I whispered to him that, in this case, “treat” means a treat for the ears. (And, in this case, as in most other instances of youthful performers, they delivered a chorus that only a parent, or a grandparent, could enjoy. The others in the congregation endured it, albeit with smiles and, perhaps, memories of kids long grown and grandkids in far-off places.)

Unlike Luke’s previous appearance, when he mostly remained as mummified as an ancient Egyptian king, he chipped right in with song and gestures. Oh, his rhythm might have been off some, but I’m not one to criticize in that department.

Of course, a couple of girls carried the chorus in song and motion, and nobody really stole the show. Luke managed to fend off the pestering actions of the boy standing next to him.

Although Jack didn’t respond to the minister’s invitation to come forth for the kids sermon this time, he mulled the possibility when the minister said all children in the congregation could follow the youth minister to the craft room for the rest of the service.

“Jack,” I whispered, “are you going to go do crafts?”

“What will they DO to us?” he said skeptically.

He hesitated until the parade of children was almost out the door before joining. What did they do to him? Well, I think he did get a treat, as in a cookie or something, and they crafted pictures of colored windows.

Speaking of treats and grandkids, here’s one that just flew in through the cyberspace transom. Granddaughter Amelia chowing down, while grinning and smearing from ear to ear. Now this dish of spaghetti looks like a real treat gone rogue, uh, or should I say, rouge?