OUR LIFE IN 3D

The Home of Daddy's Day Dare! ~ I am just trying to stay above water

Archive for the tag “Dylan”

On the bus to the Super Bowl

I am running a contest here in 3D. 

The first 5 readers who can tell me who played in last year’s Super Bowl will win a bag of Candy Canes and other left over Christmas and Halloween treats. OK?

Actually, I would have a hard time remembering who played. I can think of one team but not both. But in trying to make some plans for this year’s Big Game I remembered one of my favorite posts from last year, where Dylan was not going to lose… the attention of her Dad to some stinking football game.

So while you are trying to think of last year’s teams why don’t you grab a seat On The Bus To The Super Bowl:

Did you have a good time watching the Super Bowl? Do you have any good feasts or scrumptious snacks? I got my honey-do list done just in time to ‘score’ my favorite wings at the ‘What’s Your Blue’s name’ place, Sticky Fingers.

I settled down in front of the TV to see what transpires between the Patriots and Giants (Opps! the Contest is now over) and resolved to have a good time. My two little girls had their own agendas however.

Game On!

One perched on one side of my foot stool and one leaned across the other. Both wanted their share of MY wings. I told Mom, “I didn’t order enough!”. But Skylar was content to gnaw on the left over wings and Dylan made due with some BBQ’y pieces I tore off. Both were fighting for more of Daddy’s attention. And both were gonna lose this one night. I easily brushed them aside and out of my view of the TV as the game started. Not tonight girls!

Shortly after the game started however it was Skylar’s bedtime. Mommy scooped her up, read her a story and tucked her away. Now it was just down to Dylan, mano a mano, so to speak, to compete with my watching the great football finale. Once again I under estimated her!

As my wing dinner disappeared Dylan rethought her strategy. Seeing that my attention was firmly set on the TV, sitting on top of the mantle over our fireplace, she got on board. On the bus….

She says, “Daddy, I’m getting on the bus and you are the bus driver! Where are we going? Good idea?” I didn’t fall for it at first but she insisted. “Daddy, where do you wanna go? I’m ready. You’re the bus driver. I’m in my seat.”

Riding in the back of the bus

You see, she had gathered her toy drum and sat it on the brick ledge in front of the fire place. She put her kiddie chair in front, suggesting another seat on the bus for mommy. She sat back there with her little suitcase, sans pants, yet wearing dress up shoes. She was a force to be reckoned with! When she starts talking in her made up, yet serious  conversations, it just draws you in.

I had to just stall her until her bedtime in 45 minutes. “Do you have everything,” I asked, hoping to have her chase something down and out of my view.

“Yep”, she follows, “You are the bus driver. And I am riding on your bus. Where do you wanna go?”

“Well you better have everything because I am not coming back this way”, remembering how we left  her stuffed rabbit toy in Philadelphia on our last trip. “Everybody buckled in?”

“Yes I am daddy, I mean bus driver. Where are we going?”

“Charleston. Are you buckled in? Do you have everything?” Finally digesting her current outfit I said, “Hey! You can’t travel on my bus without any pants on. You have to be wearing pants to be on my bus!”. ~ I got her now!

She runs over to the chair where mommy had her folded baby laundry and pulls up the first pair of pants laying on top, then runs back to her spot at the back of the bus, conveniently during a commercial.         

I said, “Come back here young lady. I don’t know if that outfit is going to fly on this bus!” Seeing something funny is happening here, I told her, “I am going to have to get a picture of you to see if you can wear this outfit on my bus and turn it into my supervisor.” So I took her picture and then she ran back to her seat.

“Are we ready to go now bus driver”, she happily asks as she sees she is winning. “I’m ready. Where are we going to?”

“Charleston”, I told her. “Do you have everything? We’re not coming back this way. Are you buckled in?”

“Ahhhhh, bus driver? Can we stop back at the hotel? I think I left ‘rabbit’ back there. Then we can pick him up. Good idea?”

Well…..Good idea?

“No, pretty little rider in the back seat. We are headed to Charleston. Now, do you have everything? Are you buckled in? We’re not coming back ths way!”

Grabbing a DVD case I spied lying on the floor I picked it up and offered it as the in ‘bus trip’ movie. Dylan smiled, but missing the ball with my cleverness she said, “but you are looking at the TV. I don’t have one. How can I watch the movie? But I am ready to go bus driver”, she sad with a grin.

Just then one of the elaborate Super Bowl commercials came on. In the background was the song, “Wild Thing”, with the chant “Wild Thing”. With the ‘wings’ apparently kicking in, I offered up my extent of dancing, some head shaking and lip synching (sad, I know) to the song, while I sat on the sofa. Jumping on my enthusiasm to the song, my 4 year old jumps up out of her bus seat and starts shaking dancing like it was the ‘Funky Cold Medina. Where does she get this I thought? Luckily she enjoyed the song and attention long enough that I had time to catch a picture even with this slow digital camera.

Wild thing….you make my heart sing…

You couldn’t help but smile. Even mommy, looking up from her book, had to smile. My ‘pretty little bus passenger’ then hopped back in her seat and told me, “I’m ready to go daddy, I mean bus driver. Where are we going?”
I looked up for the score, seeing the end of the first quarter. It was ‘Dylan 14 – Super Bowl 3‘. She was going to go into her bedroom for night-night and win again. I don’t mind. Its not like I let her win, given what’s on the TV. But she still won. She’s a pretty smart girl. Maybe Gisele should model her for a while.

Party Time!!!

Wait. Wait. Wait!  Put the 5 Hour Energy and the Monster Fuel away. This is not going to be an all-nighter (it better not) I was catching up on some reading and projects when my 4 year old came over and told me its “Party Time!”

This time she means business. She came over and cornered me with her posse, Ariel, Eric and King Triton. There was no getting out of this one!

I explained, “I still have some work to do”!

Dylan put on her sad heartbreak face, as she looked down to the floor with her somber look, barely showing her eyes from beneath her hair hanging down.

I said, “But I have nothing to wear!”

So Dylan pulls out her Dora costume for me; a red halter top and baggie genie pants.

I told her, “This will never fit me!” I tried on the red halter top (please don’t picture this!) And sure enough it was too small.

So Dylan ran to get her Tinker Bell outfit for me.

Sorry! Ain’t gonna be no stinkin’ fairy I thought. Feeling the peer pressure I thought I would humor her. Sure enough, it was not going to fit either. I tried!

“Well daddy why don’t to try dis on?” she says, handing me her pink tu-tu from last Valentines day.

Darn! She got me that time as it was a tie-string format. I reluctantly agreed. ~sorry no pictures of this!

Dylan gathered her friends put them in the lil’ shopping cart she got for Christmas and said, “Come on dad, its dis way to the party.” as she walked back the hallway.

I still had so much work to do I knew I didn’t dare ‘throw down’ like days of old. What to do? She had me. I drew a heavy sigh of relief as I saw where the party was going… back to Grandma’s room, a.k.a. her nap room.

So I told her of the great kinds of parties we had when I was a kid (when we still lived by candlelight). I told her they were the best parties, the most popular ones….Slumber parties! And I explained the concept to her.

I told her, her and her friends could sit around and talk about who they liked and who liked them. And when they wake up we would have pizza for everyone; it’ll only be 5:00pm, so no pancakes this time.

The party crew: Dylan, holding Ariel in her PJ’s, Eric, and King Triton

Seeing she’s buying into this I threw in how I would take some pictures ( I really needed some blog fodder) so that her and her friends could share and save the party forever. As my parents did, I warned her there was to be no talking after I turned out the lights and checked for any flashlights in the room; and cell phones, or games, lip gloss, small computers ~ its so cool to be a kid now a days!    She said, “OK”.

They slipped on their jammies and I put a finger to my mouth, saying “Hush, be quiet. I don’t want to come back here and see you girls talking after I leave.”

Dylan gave me a nod but then sprang up, as in another attempt to postpone the inevitable, and said, “I still hafta go potty!”

You girls better be sleeping back there!

I asked, ” who else in here needs to go potty?” But the room was silent.

She went. She did. She went back to the slumber party with out incident and I shut the door hoping to get some work done in the quiet. Another party under my belt (sigh) Just in time I thought. No more life in the fast lane for me

Wait. Hold on a second. Do I hear boys back there?

She never ceases to amaze me!

DYLANism: it happend one dark and stormy morning…

The other night we had a thunderstorm go through in the middle of the night. One particularly loud thunder boomer crashed and it wasn’t long before our bedroom door creaked open and in walked Dylan.

She came up to me in bed and asked if she could sleep with us because of the loud storm. She climbed up in bed, and before she laid down, she sat there as serious as could be and said, “Daddy I think my sister is afraid of thunder.”

Her sister was soundly asleep in her own bed. Dylan snuggled close and took half my pillow.

The next morning, half asleep I walked towards the shower to get ready for work. As I passed by my chair to disrobe before my shower I tramped in cat…ah…ah….poop.    It was cold, it was damp, and stuck to the bottom of my foot. I looked at Dylan and asked, “Did you do this?” partly joking.

She shook her head no. I asked mom the same question, as she beat me into the bathroom ( I am sooo late by now). She shook her head no, eyes still closed.

Dylan is now in her tattle-tale mode. I asked her “Well, do you think the cat did this?”.

I don’t know daddy,” and she ran off.

She came running back just as swiftly and offered, “Daddy, the cat said he was the one that pooped in front off your chair.” At least the cat can still fess up.

I still had to get our 2 year old up before I left. I went in her room, gave a sunny Hello and pulled her from her crib. I laid her down on the changing table and bent over for a baby wipe. My breakfast started kicking in a bit early because as I bent over for the wipe I let out a teeny-tiny poot. Now, if any of you know me I know that may be hard to believe.

I stood up and to find my 2 year old was laughing at me. I said, “Did you hear that?” amazed because I didn’t think it was that loud.   She just kept laughing at me.  I turned around and there stood Dylan. I said, “Dylan, did you hear that?”

She shook her head yes, laughed, and sputtered, “It sounded like thunder!”

No more sleeping in the bed with me during the storms! She doesn’t know what real thunder can be! At least she didn’t compare me to the cat.

Kitty, I smell some thunder. Was that you?

DYLANism: That’s not roses…

To bring you up to speed, we have been working on manners lately in our house, especially in the expulsion of gas, trying to instill that its not as funny as they would believe and to always say, “excuse me”. Mommy says they get that from my side of the family.

Also, Dylan has taken to the habit of falling asleep in my bed when she goes to bed. Its probably wrong of us to allow this right now but its the path of least resistance at bed time.

When I come to bed I pick her up and move her to her bed. She’s usually so asleep I can either cradle her in front of me or put her on my shoulder and she’ll never wake up.

Last night was no exception. I went to bed by first clearing her bed and pulling the covers down. Then, I went to my bedroom and found her sleeping soundly. I scooped her up by cradling her this time. I slid one hand under her shoulders and the other hand under her bum.

I held her tight as to not disturb her or whack her head on the bed post (again). Its not easy lately as she is literally getting bigger each night it seems. But truly, this is one of the highlights of my day as I take this child, all innocent in my arms, to her bed.

Last night however, just as I reached the arch of my doorway she really pooted in the palm of my hand. I mean it was a flat-smack in the middle of my hand good three second relief…. in the middle of my hand! I felt set  up.

I looked down and this little cherub was still asleep. But a second later I reached her doorway and her eyes opened in a squint, seemingly to catch my reaction. And then she cracked an itty-bitty smile, before her eyes went shut again. She got me good!

I went back to my bed and I asked mommy, “Did you hear what Dylan just did? She pooted in my hand as I took her to bed!”

Mommy responded in her half-asleep stupor, “She’s probably been planning it for years.”

Now I feel better!

DYLANism: Those meddling kids!

First, I have to start off by saying that the girls go to the local library every week for story time. Then they come home with a handful of videos. Well for the last two weeks or so they have brought home a Scooby Doo video, full of small episodes from the Saturday morning fame. In fact, when she plays pretend now she sometimes asks me to call her Daphne and she calls me Fred. 

So this past Sunday we were going to get some ice cream. I ducked in my closet to get some shoes. Dylan, following me on my tail, sees a plum red (awful IMHO) cocktail dress of my wife’s. It was a Christmas present last year. Dylan looks at the dress and says, “Daddy, when’s Mommy ever gonna wear this dress?”

She’s into dresses now. 

I shrugged my shoulders with a chuckle, “I don’t know Dylan.” 

So Dylan chimes in, either getting, or not getting my smirk, “Halloween? She could wear it Trick or Treating.” 

I laughed to myself and said, “Maybe.” 

So I went out to get my keys. They were not at the usual spot. I asked, “Dylan, have you seen my car keys?” 

No Daddy” she responds. And so we went to look for them in my car. Dylan ran ahead. 

We got to my car, Dylan popped in the front seat and said, “I don’t see them Daddy.” 

I looked in the ignition switch and sure enough they were not there. I said, “OK Dylan lets go back inside. I have to see if I can find those keys if we’re going to go. I don’t know where they can be now.” 

Dylan hops out of the car, and looks at me, shrugging her shoulders and offers, “looks like we got ourselves another mystery on our hands!” 

Now if we could only find the keys to the Mystery Machine!  

Does that mean there’s no ice cream?

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