Photo: The Train Table has been on hiatus since Thursday morning because Ursa Minor decided to start to jump on it again. Little dude bro just doesn’t seem to understand that actions have consequences.


Childhood magic is watching big-huge dump trucks going up and down your street all day, putting down fresh new asphalt on the street. Childhood magic is meeting not one, but two police officers while watching all the cool street-building action. Childhood magic is school fun in the morning, street building in the afternoon, and debating which freezie-pop flavor is the best with your Mama and your brother (Lime is, obviously, the best flavor).

It was a good day for little boys. They needed it, because it’s been a rough week.

Not just the sickness… Ursa Minor is really sippin’ on the Three juice and it’s been a little like whoa around here. Much crying and screaming, much boo-boos and ballyhoos, bitter sweet snuggles when poor choices yield big consequences… Our three year-old is trying to be about that bad-boy life and we’re just not havin’ it. Keeping up the discipline is hard. Keeping it consistent and fair… this is exhausting work. But necessary.

I do have Quiet Thoughts, but I cannot really write them tonight because the latest aftermath in a series of bad choices has involved the “special legos” (read: Dad’s legos from his collection. The ones he lets the boys play with under close supervision). Something is broken, babies are crying and Daddy (he is pretty even tempered 99.9% of the time) is a little upset.

Seems Daddy told Ursa Major to be gentle with a part, to which the child smiled and then yanked on it with all his might, snapping the thing. It would seem that neither of my children want to listen to us right now? Sneak preview for the teen years, right? Lord, I hope that make it that far…

So anyway, writing time implosion. Sorry, dear reader.

I wish you many things this weekend, including good food, great drink, and better company.

Until Monday, take care.


One thought on “[Bloggy Fail] Ursa Minor Did It!

  1. My dad had this stereo turntable with a diamond needle and auto motion and blah dee fuckity “super expensive” “dont ever touch it” fancy parts and…one day somebody broke it. I know it wasn’t me, so my conscience is clear; but I’d love to find out which of the other super ninjas did it. Holy SHIT did dad hit the roof, screamin and hollerin more blah dee fuckity blah, pointin fingers, callin us names. But we just stood there answering every inquiry with shoulder shrugs and I dunnos.

    We were used to it. Dads ratio of dickhead spazz monster to oatient helpful guy was the exact opposite of Husband’s.

    I should call my sister and see if she remembers. Maybe she’ll fess up lol.

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