Finally!

Okay, so it's been a while.  I'm not making excuses, but in the past month my parents have moved, we put our house on the market, I've reffed countless volleyball matches, and have been without a computer for a week (you can thank Anya for that one.  She's broken so many laptops I'm beginning to wonder if she has stock in Toshiba).

A lot has happened this past month.  My big girl, Anya, started preschool!  She is going to Calvary Pre-K on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings and is loving every minute of it.  Since day one, she has been happy to give me a kiss goodbye and not think twice about leaving my side.  For her, school is like a great party and coming home to dad is like the Saturday morning hangover.  I just can't compete with the countless crafts, the puppet shows, and the finger paints activities that would turn our house into a technicolored nightmare.  My favorite part about her schooling is that it has a religion curriculum.  I get such a kick listening to Anya ask questions about Jesus:

"My teacher says Jesus is with us, where do you think he's hiding"
"Why did Jesus make mosquitoes?"
"Why does Jesus make you fart so much?"

I've explained to her countless times that Jesus is homoousious ("One in being") with the Father and that when she askes those questions of Jesus it is confusing because Jesus of Nazareth, who was one with the Word of God, was a finite human being.  Maybe if she used 'God the Father' in her inquiries, as opposed to Jesus, we could have some decent theological discussion.  Perhaps the understanding of the relationship within the Holy Trinity is part of next week's curriculum.  And as for her third theological question, it isn't God or Jesus, it's Chipotle.

A few weeks ago we shipped off Reegan's nursery set to my sister in Denver.  Reegan has had more than a few mishaps in her new big girl bed, but she's a real trooper.  One night she took a tough spill (which has been par for the course) and was crying pretty substantially.  Being the Father of the Year that I am, I joined her in her bed to console her (aka Daddy slept in her bed). Apparently she stopped crying because I woke up refreshed sometime before 7:00am.  As I sat with Caitlin and Anya eating breakfast, I could hear the turning of the door handle in Reegan's room.  I was expecting my cute little Sherlie Temple to come out of her room, but what I saw was Rocky Balboa after getting his ass kicked by Apollo Creed.  Somehow Reegs managed to fall head-first into the metal bracket that connects the headboard to the frame.  Her face was all scuffed up and her right eye was literally swollen shut. She looked terrible!  Of course my little Reegs doesn't feel pain, so nothing seemed to bother her, but it did mean I had to keep her from the watchful eye of Child Services.  To believe that a little girl could do that kind of damage from falling out of bed makes the JFK Magic Bullet theory look like proven science.  The swelling has subsided and the brusing is almost gone. 

Three days ago while playing one of the Roses' favorite backyard games (find bugs under shit), I rolled a railroad tie to see what creepy crawlers lie beneath. With all three girls gathered close, I lifted the beam to uncover a football sized bee nest.  As I dropped the wood, I shouted "RUN, BEES!!!" I started running away, swatting away the stinging insects that had began swarming me, when it occured to me that I was all alone.  When I turned around, I watched as Caitlin moved in for a closer inspection of the hive, Reegan laughed as she tried to follow the 5 bees circling her head, and Anya cried that one stung her in the belly.  Was it possible that my Roses misunderstood my command?  To an onlooker I must have looked like George Costanza:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueh_1PeJhaQ

I ran back and collected all three girls in my arms and ran with them into the garage.  Reegan had one sting in her arm, Anya took a stinger to the belly, and Caitlin, the girl who approached the hive for a better view, was left unscathed.

Tip of the Day - It's easier to ask for help wiping your butt than to walk a day with an itchy behind. Metaphorically speaking of course.