Hunt Chickens and Sell Them to H-E-B!

If you haven't already noticed, some of our best and most entertaining conversations happen while we're in the minivan running errands.

Tonight's story is no exception.

Not too long ago (while we were running errands in the minivan), Dude began talking about guns. Only he still spells it out because "gun" is a bad word.

So, as I said, he was discussing G-U-N-S during this particular outing. He thinks they're cool ... he could fight bad guys with them, etc.

Then he began thinking (out loud) about what careers he might pursue that would allow him to carry a gun. He could be the second coming of Indiana Jones, which would please him to no end. He could be a robber. A robber?! Okay, not a robber, but what else could he do and carry a gun?

Then he finally had his epiphany. He would be a policeman! They were good guys AND they got to carry G-U-N-S!

Sister, who has been patiently listening to all this, finally chimed in. "Dude!", she said. "You don't have to be a policeman. You could be a hunter! Yeah! "

"You could hunt chickens, and sell them to H-E-B!"

H-E-B, for those of you who are not from Texas, is our fabulous, home-grown regional grocery store chain. One, as you may have guessed, we frequent quite often.

Obviously, we do not frequent the country often enough. Because these two children had lost their minds! Neither of them saw the slightest problem with this chicken hunting idea. Dude's fate was sealed.

Sister wants to be a dolphin trainer. Let's hope she doesn't plan to have her brother shoot THEM and sell them to H-E-B!

Photo courtesy of Okinawa Soba.

Best Rooster Name Ever

So as I've told you before, Dude has a thing for all things Indiana Jones. He likes the movies, the gear, the theme song, and most especially the hat.

He would hum that song at daycare this summer over and over - so much so that our dear friend and daycare provider banned him from ever singing it again in her presence.

Resolved: the boy likes Indiana Jones.

So earlier in the summer, we were driving from point A to point B and discussing some of the things we wanted to do for fun. We decided that our cousin's ranch would be a great choice.

Going out there is always a treat. We visit, kick back, eat well, feed chickens and goats, and just enjoy the country life for a few days. It's a great experience for the kids. They get to be outside a lot of the time and do things they'd never get to do in Suburbia where we live. The highlight of every trip - aside from seeing our cousin - is feeding the chickens and goats.

So prior to this conversation in the car, I had spoken with our cousin. She wanted me to tell the kids that she had a new rooster in need of a name. When I told the kids about this, the discussion and debate from the backseat reached new decibel heights. Finally Dude emerged victorious.

He declared, "I have the best rooster name ever! Henry. Jones. Junior!" Sister agreed ... and so did I. It was indeed the best rooster name ever. How could there be any other?

So we called up our cousin on my trusty iPhone to tell her the good news. I'm surprised she could understand them because they were talking so fast in all their excitement.

After Dude and Cousin discussed the name and the rooster for a bit - and just when I didn't think things could get any better - Dude asked her, "Can you go outside right now and tell him what his name is?"

I guess that once you have a name that good, there's just no sense in making the rooster wait.

Photo courtesy of Thomas Hawk.

God Is the Best

Dude and Sister get along pretty well ... most of the time. They play together and agree on TV shows and movies. But like any brother and sister team, they feel it is their duty to do whatever possible to annoy the other. And they can do it really well.

Sister, being the older of the two, has really honed her craft over the years. She calls Dude names - strange nicknames like "Bacon" - but names just the same. Dude hates it. She copies him when he talks, and is just generally annoying some of the time.

Dude isn't entirely innocent, though. He snatches toys out of her hands, copies her when she talks, and is just generally annoying. Sound familiar?

Whatever the offense, they really know how to push each other's buttons. So push they do. As the Mom and referee, I have learned that it doesn't help to try to resolve the situation, or to determine who has been wronged by whom. All I want is for the yelling and name-calling to end, and for peace and quiet to be restored. Mostly, I wish that in vain.

So one day, we were running errands and the pushing of buttons began. Names were called. Cries for help from Mom were made. There was even some pinching! Finally, Dude had had enough.

He summoned up the worst possible thing he could think of, and said, "You're just ... just ... just AWFUL!!"

To which Sister replied, "Know what's better than calling people names? GOD! God is the best thing in the whole wide world. So there!"

She ended this tirade by sticking her tongue out. Dude was deflated, because, well, Sister was right! He just couldn't think of anything to say or do to top that.

And me? Aside from being rather amazed, I was just thankful that it was quiet again!

Photo courtesy of radiant guy.

Stickers Don't Count as Surprises

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I sometimes have to travel for work. It's never very far flung or all that often. But it comes up now and then.

Most of the time, I'm only gone for one night. Sometimes I'll attend a seminar or conference that keeps me away from home for longer periods of time.

Our family rule is that if I'm gone for two or more nights, I have to bring a surprise to the kids. It's never anything extravagant. Usually it's some swag that I pick up at an exhibitor's booth at a trade show, or some other little free "gimme". Other times, I've had to go out on a special trip to pick something up for them.

This past week I was in Dallas attending a seminar on social media marketing. I was gone Tuesday and Wednesday nights, and home late Thursday evening. This necessitated a surprise. There were a few vendors at the seminar, but they really only had brochures and other "grown-up" information. A few of them were giving away branded pens, but there was really nothing that a kid would like.

And then I saw it. HubSpot, an Inbound Marketing company from Boston, was giving away stickers! Kids like stickers, right? Dude and sister always have, so a sense of relief washed over me when I found them. And these weren't just any old stickers. These were BIG oval-shaped stickers with HubSpot's squiggly orange brand on them. These stickers were cool!

So when I arrived home at 9pm, Dude and Sister were still up. Dude had reminded me about getting them a surprise every time I'd talked to them on the phone while I was away. And now that I was home, the first thing out of his mouth was about the surprises.

Once I was able to walk in the door and put down all my stuff, I dug out the stickers. Sister was out of the room, and Dude was first up. I asked him to close his eyes, and when he did, I placed the sticker in his outstretched hands.

At first, silence. Then the poochy lip. Then, Dude burst into tears.

"I didn't want a STICKER! I wanted a TOY!" Oh, I tried to show off all the great things about this particular sticker, but he wasn't having any. He cried and I consoled for a few minutes, and then he agreed to put it on his shirt. It was okay, but he still really wanted that Incredible Hulk toy. He just couldn't believe that they didn't have them at my seminar!

Sister was cool with it. She loves stickers of any kind. Thanks, Sister!

So HubSpot, I'm sorry to say that stickers - and specifically YOUR stickers - don't count as surprises.

Photo courtesy of Maria chanourdie.

Apparently, I Don't Know About Food

Wow! It's nearly been a month since I've updated you on things. Needless to say, we've been very busy - both at home and at work.

So I decided that I would sit down and do a quick post while I was inspired to do so ... and mainly before I forgot what I had planned to write about.

Picture this. The family is sitting down - at the table! - for dinner. I made a pretty dang good meal, if I do say so myself. Broiled Tilapia Parmesan. Green beans. And alfredo noodles.

As Sister and Dude were doing everything but eating, I announce that there is ice cream for dessert if they eat a healthy dinner first.

We don't make them clean their plates around our house, but they do have to - at the very least - try everything. Then the negotiating begins. Sometimes it's half of an item, sometimes it's two more bites, and still sometimes it's 4 more green beans. A little of everything is all I ask. Is that too much?

So when I told Dude that he needed to eat some more dinner before he got his ice cream, it was on! He burst into fake tears and whined that it was too much. He couldn't do it. He didn't like it. Again, I stated that there would be no ice cream unless he ate some dinner. Again with the whining.

Then I told him that if there wasn't room for dinner, then there wasn't room for ice cream.

"NO!," shouted Dude. "YOU JUST DON'T KNOW ABOUT FOOD!!!"

Oh, really. I DO know how to get kids to eat their dinner, though.

I just got myself a bowl of ice cream, sat right back down, and ate it right in front of them. This time, they knew better than to ask where their ice cream was.

Sister and Dude actually ate everything I asked them to, and just finished up their own bowls of ice cream.

Ahh, problem solved.

Photo courtesy of St0rmz.