Thank You, Charlie Sheen

I hate Two and a Half Men. Not vehemently, mind you. The first season and a half was good. But the show -- much like most of television -- has gone down the crapper thanks to a proliferation of sex jokes, prat falls, drug humor ... and did I mention sex jokes?

The role of Jon Cryer's Alan has morphed from pathetic hanger-on to, well, really pathetic hanger-on that (surprise!) makes way too many sex jokes. Angus T. Jones was cute when he was 10. Now he's just a dorky teenager that (surprise!) makes way too many sex jokes.

The show's only saving grace? Charlie Sheen. Couple reasons why: First, his character hasn't morphed or grown up. He is who he was when the show started. Whether you liked the character or not, at least it was something to count on. Second, he knows how to deliver a line. Third, he's the only one who can get away with (surprise!) making way too many sex jokes. That's Charlie's thing.

Crazy enough, the best season of Two and a Half Men is the one going on right now. Drunken Charlie goes off on a drunken weekend, sleeps with three women, and gets himself left in the Las Vegas desert. Meanwhile, back in Malibu, Alan watches scrambled porn and determines a way to explain all this to Jake, who's just sitting there all doughy and goofy, wondering where the last MoonPie went, even though it's under his pillow. Sounds like a great plot, right? This is real-time, off camera. Golden Globe!

Where's this going? Why are we mentioning this in a Daddy blog? I'm getting there, hold on ...

In Pictures: iPhone iPhotography

Sometimes I snap the pictures on my iPhone faster than I can tweet them to the world. So here's a sampling of what I get to see every day as I flip through my phone.

Dora's forgotten twin

Help me decide. Leave a comment.

One dozen golf balls received as Christmas gift and returned: $16.31 on gift card

One package of Huggies pull-ups for Kaitlyn: $16.31 off gift card

Okay, here's the deal: I was recently presented with this conundrum while visiting my local Walmart. The golf balls were returned, as I was fully intending to purchase the brand I normally play. I also needed to look into purchasing pull-ups for my daughter, who is growing exponentially and will soon be headed to the two-year old room at daycare.

So there I stood, in the diaper aisle of Walmart, wondering whether I needed to use the gift card on the diapers for my daughter or put them toward a dozen brand-y new golf balls for my own selfish pursuits. It's truly a lose-lose: Buy the diapers, lose your manhood. Buy the golf balls, lose your fatherhood.

So America, I let you decide: Manhood or Fatherhood. Now, a few ground rules: First, Kaitlyn doesn't truly need the pull-ups. This is sort of an experiment before heading into the two-year old room. So it's not like I'm depriving my daughter of essential things to live to buy golf balls. Second, the golf balls I would have bought would require additional money out of my own pocket.

So tell me, America: Manhood or Fatherhood?

Milk: It does a body good (unless it's chocolate milk, then it's worse for you than heroin)

I have to admit: I love a big, honkin' glass of chocolate milk. It's fan-friggin'-tastic, especially paired with a equally big, honkin' bowl of ice cream. And thank God I'm not lactose intolerant because, well, we'd have some real problems.

There's just something about having a big, honkin' glass of liquid chocolate that gives me a good feeling all over. And by the way, I'm a purist. It's got to be Hershey's Chocolate Syrup in there. No store brand, no cheap alternative, no other name on the bottle. Hershey's. Chocolate. Syrup.

Not to mention that we're talking about milk here. I mean, it's good for you too, right?

Apparently not. According to leading nutritional Nazis experts, chocolate milk should be outlawed from schools and given the old heave-ho because it makes kids happy healthy fat.

There's almost this threat, like "If you don't drink chocolate milk, then your children will not get the nutrition they need!" says Marlene Schwartz, deputy director of Yale University's Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity. For Schwartz, the dairy industry's campaign is one as concerned with market share as it is with nutrition. "The real issue is a food-industry segment saying, "We want to market our product to children. So we are going to add extra sugar that is completely unnecessary to improve the taste so that kids will drink more of our product." And since more than half of all flavored milk in the U.S. is sold to children in schools, she says, there's a lot to be lost if chocolate milk gets kicked out of the cafeteria.

I failed to notice in Ms. Schwartz argument for eliminating chocolate-y goodness from schools the affect of reduced or eliminated physical education classes in today's schools or the lack of responsibility from dumb parents to haul their fat children away from the Xbox for an hour a day to play outside.

As expected, the milk industry isn't taking all this sitting down. They've launched a million dollar marketing campaign to get you to believe there is nothing wrong with chocolate in your milk. While I tend to agree, maybe they need to send people to places like Boulder, Colorado and Berkeley, California, districts where hippies parading like they own the friggin' place school officials have banned the nectar of joy from their lunchrooms.

Now, I have to be honest: Kaitlyn doesn't get chocolate milk. At just under two years of age, I don't think it would be prudent. Granted, by the time she's four or five, there's nothing wrong with giving her a little bit of chocolate-y goodness in my mind. Especially since I know she'll be taking walks with us and playing outside.

Sushi: It's not just for pretentious pricks anymore

Michelle and I always joke that Kaitlyn eats so much better at daycare than she does at home. I mean, we feed her veggies, pasta, chicken and other healthy options. Of course, there's always chocolate chip pancake night, but that's a special treat.

But when we get Kaitlyn's daily report card from daycare, we see her lunch menu consisting of beef tips, tilapia, barbecue chicken and other goodies that make my mouth water. I swear that Kaitlyn looks at us on the weekends thinking, I wonder what I would be getting at daycare today, just before we push a plate of chicken fingers at her.

Apparently, after reading this nugget from back home, Kaitlyn's getting the short end of the culinary stick. Because the kids at six Hillsborough, N.J. elementary schools are getting sushi for lunch. You read that right, sushi:

Lynne Richmond, a spokeswoman for the state Department of Agriculture, said that while items like sushi might not be commonplace in elementary schools just yet, there’s a growing trend toward expanding menus to include more options, including international items. "It’s a different world out there than it was 25 years ago or even 10 years ago," Richmond said. "We have definitely seen school districts trying to be creative with their menus in recent years using our nutritional standards as a guideline."

Now, there are a lot of people who think this is a little over the top, citing things like food allergies and tax dollars paying for sushi. And if you think this isn't going to happen elsewhere, think again. Hillsborough schools' food services are supplied by Sodexho, which holds contracts for thousands of schools systems across the country.

Moonshine provides Charlotte daycare owner with lucrative side business

 Today I raise a mason jar of some fine Carolina White Lightning to Gwendolyn Brown-Johnson.

Ms. Brown-Johnson found herself in a real pickle last week down in ol' Charlotte, N.C., according to the local press. You see, an undercover officer caught her selling off two gallons worth of some fine City Gin at the Parkview Community Center.

Problem is, not only is drinking Bush Whiskey illegal, but so is selling it. At a day care center. I repeat: At a day care center.

Agents say children were in the day care center when they sent in an undercover agent to buy two gallons of moonshine. Brown-Johnson told the paper she was set up by a neighbor. She says she was just holding a package for a man in exchange for $80 and didn't even know what was in it.

By the way, police also arrest 82-year-old Ervin Finger -- whom they say produced the Catdaddy in question -- after find more than 80 gallons of Ruckus Juice at his place. I repeat: More than 80 gallons.

Now to be fair, Brown-Johnson is claiming that she is being targeted by a "vengeful neighbor." According to the Web site of Parkview Community Center and its related foundation, Brown-Johnson is "a concerned and caring neighborhood resident [who] saw that the children in the neighborhood lacked adequate parental or other responsible adult guidance, supervision and protection from hazardous social environments." No word yet on whether selling $80 worth of corn liquor qualifies as "responsible adult guidance."

Personally, I think Brown-Johnson might have stumbled upon a business opportunity, knowingly or not. I mean, who needs a little Mule Kick more than parents and daycare workers?

Most Dangerous Toys 2009, aka "Ruining Christmas for Everyone, Part II"

I thought World Against Toys Causing Harm, Inc.. was the only group of Godless quacks consumer watchdog group we had to worry about this holiday season.

But thanks, GoodGuide.com, for being the hippie tree huggers most of the world has come to hate. You see, the people of GoodGuide.com are set to tell consumers everywhere about how the products in their homes cause the Earth to die. Or, according to their PR spin, "GoodGuide provides the world's largest and most reliable source of information on the health, environmental, and social impacts of the products in your home."

And, like the unholy despicable happiness-deprived watchdog group WATCH, these guys want to make sure you and your children are safe from evil toymakers who are out to destroy the world.

And while WATCH targeted such items as a book of numbers and an infant drum set, GoodGuide is going after the biggest of the big boys this holiday season: Zhu-Zhu Pets.

If you're not familiar with these furry little hamsters, they're, well, furry little hamsters. Just mechanical furry little hamsters. And they're going for $10 if you can find them. On eBay, they're five times that amount. One guy's giving you a deal with three for $100. I'm pretty sure you can find a real hamster for, like eight cents. But I digress.

So the people at GoodGuide are now saying that these fake hamsters contain tin and antimony, which causes cancer. According to head tree hugger and hippie GoodGuide co-founder Dara O'Rourke:

"We found levels of about 93 to 106 parts per million," O'Rourke said. "The new federal standard is about 60 parts per million."

I don't know what all that means, and I even tried to Google it. Everything reads like Latin. So either it's really way beyond me, or it really doesn't matter. If this was way beyond me, I don't think you'd ever put it in a children's toy. Unless your from China. Oh wait, Zhu Zhu Pets are made in China. Ouch.

Kaitlyn's Holiday Wish List

With the holidays now upon us, I figured I'd help the Growing Up Kaitlyn contingent with their Christmas shopping.

You see, the Growing Up Kaitlyn family has settled here in this small tiny space-prohibitive quaint townhouse that doesn't have a lot of storage. Sure, we've got YaYa and Pop-Pop's place, but we can't expect to put all our stuff in their house forever. I'm sure if we asked we could, but that would just be abusing a privilege they've extended and I'm not about to get on YaYa's bad side. Again.

So Michelle and I have come up with a parent-approved Wish List that doesn't include noisy toys is sure to make Kaitlyn happy come Christmas morning. As an added bonus, if there are any of you out there who might have Michelle or myself in a Secret Santa, we've included some of our requests, as well.

Kaitlyn's Wish List
Tinker Bell. Not items related to Tinker Bell, but the actual pixie
A membership to The N.C. Zoo, The Natural Science Center of Greensboro and Weight Watchers
Handcuffs to make sure that damn Swiper stops swiping
DJ Lance Rock's fuzzy hat
A pass to the Hershey factory that allows her to swim in chocolate syrup
Google stock

Michelle's Wish List
A second husband who has any combination of wealth, looks and/or fame
An Old Navy puffy vest stuffed with $100 bills.
Immortality, especially for Boo

James' Wish List
A winning Powerball ticket so to remove "semi-" from his official title of "semi-retired"
In lieu of Powerball ticket, full-time job paying over $45,000 would suffice
Odyssey's Vegas headcover for blade putter and matching grip so that he looks cool while playing like crap
Mother's Cure (nsfw)

In Pictures: Failed Christmas Card Photos

Failed attempt #1: Almost got it on the first try

Failed attempt #4: Michelle showing Kaitlyn how to smile for future attempts

Failed attempt #11: Kaitlyn still thinking it was Halloween, doing her best Frankenstein impression

Failed attempt #13: Michelle showing Kaitlyn how to smile for future attempts (Part II)

Failed attempt #16: Moving from Mickey to ornaments as distraction tactic

Failed attempt #21: Kaitlyn grabs camera. Again. 

Failed attempt #26: Just when we thought we had it, Kaitlyn stands up in the middle of shot

Failed attempt #32: Kaitlyn drops ornament. On a side note, running out of ornaments.

Failed attempt #45: If only she smiled. 

Failed attempt #51: Kaitlyn grabs camera. Again.

Failed attempt #58: Michelle tries a new angle. Unfortunately makes Kaitlyn look like she's a squirrel

Failed attempt #60: Kaitlyn grabs camera. Again

Failed attempt #66: Don't ask

Failed attempt #73: I think we're fighting a losing battle at this point

Failed attempt #78: Screw it. Off the shelf cards it is.

Most Dangerous Toys 2009, aka "Ruining Christmas for Everyone"

It's Christmastime, which means that someone's got to ruin the holiday spirit by telling you what you should and shouldn't purchase for your children.

So thank you, World Against Toys Causing Harm, Inc., for dampening our holidays and bringing unemployment to the elf population worldwide.

World Against Toys Causing Harm, Inc., or WATCH, is a supposed consumer advocacy group formed by trial attorney Edward Swartz (cutting into business, aren't we Mr. Swartz?) to better inform parents about the dangers of toys.

Each year, this unholy despicable happiness-deprived watchdog group issues a Not-Top 10 list of the most dangerous toys known to man. This year's toys include a WALL-E foam rocket (eye injuries), a Curious George book of numbers that contains an abacus-like instrument (choking hazard), an infant musical instrument set (choking hazard) and, perhaps most perplexing of all, a Dark Knight action figure (potential for blunt impact and penetration injuries).

Please read that again. "Potential for blunt impact and penetration injuries." Those are not my words. Believe me, I have come up with lots of B.S. in my lifetime. I couldn't possibly make that one up.

Remember simpler times when you could just play with a BB gun and, after shooting yourself in the thigh, would get the stern "Told you, moron" look from your parents? Or when, along with your parents, you'd hurl child-sized javelins through the air? Now we're worried about something like this or this?

Editor's Note: This is normally where I would put a funny photo or clip or something, but unfortunately the good people at Saturday Night Live and Hulu.com have deprived us of video featuring Irwin Mainway and his Bag O' Glass and Johnny Switchblade: Adventure Punk. Thanks for nothing, SNL and Hulu, even though I still love you both.

Daddy's genes and Brando's jeans

I talk a lot about my daughter being a little, well, healthy. Actually, a lot healthy.

You see, Kaitlyn is a little bit of a butterball. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. I think it's adorable at this age and don't care one iota. I'm not like some crazy, over-the-top parents. I know my daughter likes to eat and I'm cool with that.

Like on Thursday. There was no stopping her. You see, Thursdays are our little breakfast-for-dinner days. But not just any breakfast. Chocolate. Chip. Pancakes.

Kaitlyn digs the chocolate chip pancakes, so she began to devour them. Three adult-sized pancakes. Same as me. I mean, my daughter ate the same exact meal as me. She began to cry when we took her out of her seat, even though she had finished what was on the plate and was licking the crumbs off the tray.

Now, I don't know if it is the whole breakfast-for-dinner concept that draws her attention. Would she do this for an omelete? I don't know. Maybe the large dollop of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup that Michelle gave Kaitlyn to dip her pancakes in had something to do with her mood. I'm no expert. All I know is that it was tough to take her away from that plate.

But as I was watching my daughter compete in her personal IFOCE event, I couldn't help but think that I am partly to blame. You see, I don't have the healthiest eating habits.

Normal people will sometimes sneak ice cream for dinner; they don't have the entire half-gallon. Normal people get an Extra Value Meal at Mickey D's or maybe a dollar menu sandwich or two; they don't order four large sandwiches or three double cheeseburgers, two McChicken sandwiches, fries and a drink for lunch. Normal people have a cup of coffee, maybe two before noon; they don't finish an eight-cup pot before 10 a.m. and then get a large light and sweet from Dunkin' Donuts on his way to lunch.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

Prime example is today's Friday's lunch. To your right, you will see the basics of what I ate today on Friday. It is called the Wise Guy Burger, found at that bastion of healthy fare, Red Robin. Here's the rundown from DietsInReview.com:

In this particular nutritional nightmare, the Wise Guy Burger is part burger, part appetizer. And not the good appetizers like fresh crudites – we’re talking fried mozzarella cheese sticks on top of a burger patty. But that’s not all! Try pepperoni slices, banana peppers, marinara sauce and tomatoes all smothered on top of each other.

Too much for most people, right? But here's the kicker -- I modified mine. Subtracted the rabbit food. Added melted provolone cheese on top of the mozzarella sticks. Added the signature Red Robin steak fries under the burger patty (Don't worry -- bottomless fries!). Enjoyed and delighted in its awesomeness.

And I still weigh all of 168 pounds. Granted, I've never had my cholesterol checked for fear of giving the doctor reading the results a heart attack, but that's a conversation for another time. I have yet to physically see any consequences from my eating habits. I love food. I am a fit-looking individual. All is right with the world.

But then I see Kaitlyn. Poor blubbery Kaitlyn. Still a cute blubbery, but who knows if Ronald McDonald will be as kind to her as he has been to me. So I try to eat better with my wife, who's been on my case for years. We grill chicken and make Weight Watcher meals with reduced fat or fat free ingredients. But then there are times like this afternoon. Not to mention the three Whatchamacallits I had this evening. With whole milk. Mmm.

I don't know if Kaitlyn has a chance, but I do know she's enjoying the path she's taken. Even if that path has to be reinforced with steel.

Cognitive Development, aka "The Stewie Griffin Conundrum"

Now I know every parent thinks their child is smart. It's almost a rite of passage for parenthood to build up your children only to have them shatter those dreams the first time they bring home an "F" or you hear they ate the entire stock of paste during the kindergarten open house.

But my kid is smart. She's not smart in a "My child is an honor roll student at (insert name of crappy boarding school here)" kind of way. She's smart in a "I'm going to take over the world and there's not a damn thing you can do about it" kind of way.

Hence, The Stewie Griffin Conundrum.

Now, I don't take this responsibility as lightly as dear ol' dad Peter Griffin does. Don't they know that baby talks, or what? I mean, he's telling you exactly what he's going to do every damn episode. And none of the main or secondary characters understand.

But then there's the whole "Lois Kills Stewie" episode where, all of a sudden, they understand? Or what about the "Road to Germany" episode where Mort understands Stewie just fine? Anyway, I digress ...

The point is, where is the line in the sand that separates Geez, my child's a genius and I need to cultivate this awesome brain power so he/she can become a doctor/president/astronaut/emperor and Geez, my child's a genius and they're building a particle separator in the backyard that's aimed in my bedroom. Maybe we should just plop him/her in front of the TV to rot some brain cells. Giggity?

I mean, she looks innocent enough. She says cute things like, "Daddy potty" and "Oh No Tink Bell Trouble." It's really cute stuff.

But is that her plan? Does she plan on pulling out her death ray when my defenses are lowered after a moment of weakness, like when she's building a tower out of the blocks? Or will she stab me with a Crayola when I'm fawning over her coloring skills?

I don't know. I just hope we do the right things and not piss her off when she gets to be a teenager, or else we're all doomed.

Oh hell. A teenage girl not pissed at her parents? Who am I kidding.

The Search for Whatchamacallit

Ever since I penned my Halloween Missive, I've been craving a Whatchamacallit. And you know what happens when you want something at a very precise moment: That's right, you can never find one.

You see, the Whatchamacallit is probably the most underrated confection in human history. Now, some people might try and tell you otherwise, naming such sugary goodness as Snickers or Three Musketeers or the God-awful Almond Joy. Don't get me wrong; I love a Snickers. But as far as pure gold, there's no topping the chocolately-caramelly-peanuty goodness that is the Whatchamacallit.

I don't know when candy decided to get all serious, offering us 78% Cacao and ultra-rich dark chocolate on our Junior Mints, but in came the pretentiousness and out went the fun. I mean, how much more can you improve on a friggin' Junior Mint. Or a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Or a plain ol' honest-to-goodness Hershey Bar. And by the way, Hersey: If you ever decide to pull a New Coke on me with your original Hershey Bar, I will lead the boycott. Seriously, I think I account for 12% of your gross sales alone. Think about it.

So I've been looking for a Whatchamacallit for the last week and a half, thinking Oh, it's Halloween. They'll be around every corner. Nope. Looked in the grocery stores. Nada. Checked out Target. Empty. Where the hell are the Whatchamacallits? I mean, if they can still sell Mounds and the God-awful Almond Joy, there still must be a Whatchamacallit somewhere. I mean, I feel like Charlie Bucket over here.

So since I've been awake since 4 a.m. thanks to a toddler's screwed up internal clock (thank-you, daylight savings time), I decided to find me some damn Whatchamacallits, even if it took me ordering directly from Hershey.

You know what I found? An awesome Hershey's search tool that provides you with the exact locale for any of Hershey's confectionery delights:

Let us help you find your favorite HERSHEY’S product. HERSHEY’S products are available nearly everywhere. However, if you’re having trouble finding one in the United States, we can help! Select the specific product, the zip code where you shop and the distance you are willing to travel to purchase that great HERSHEY’S item. With so many delicious choices, we are not able to include all of our products in this locator. If you are still unable to find your favorite, please contact us.

So thanks to Hershey's, I will be making my way to the local CVS after dropping Kaitlyn off at daycare. Whatchamacallit, you beckon ...

Halloween, Part III

So it's nearly 8 p.m. on Halloween Night and I've only now gotten around to updating Growing Up Kaitlyn. You see, we've been a little busy over here.

First, we had the toga party. We had a great time and, to my amazement, I was one of only a handful who didn't wimp out and wear a T-shirt underneath my toga. Oh yeah, I kept it real. So did wifey, who looked stunning.

Michelle with Joe V., who showed his love for poker with his toga choice

So after a night of hanging with adults and drinking some good libation (not to mention sleeping until 8:30 in the morning -- yea!), it was time for Kaitlyn to get her Halloween on. We made our way over to Nic and Rich's place for some late afternoon pizza and chillaxin' with the kids, plus a short loop around their street for some trickin' and treatin'.

The crew. Don't mess with them -- they're a rough bunch

After a house or two, Kaitlyn got into the flow, which made things a lot easier

We got home and Michelle did a round 'round the neighborhood here, saw some neighbors, took some 100 Grands and Reeses' Peanut Butter Cups for daddy. We're settled in now, which is great because Notre Dame and the Yanks are on, which means picture-in-picture is gonna get some exercise tonight.

Hope everyone had a great Halloween. We know Kaitlyn sure did.

Note: I wrote my Halloween Missive for The Mommies Network, which you can read here. It's about the times when Halloween was more about the kids and the candy.

Halloween, Part II: Fun with Photoshop

So on most days around this time, one of us would be on our way to pick up Kaitlyn from daycare so that we'd have a little family time before dinner. Maybe go for a walk around the neighborhood. Maybe blow bubbles.

But today, oh glorious day, Kaitlyn is in Mebane. You see, YaYa and Pop-Pop are playing babysitter tonight, leaving Michelle and I on our lonesome to head to a leave-the-rugrats-at-home adults-only Halloween party.

It's a toga party, as if you couldn't tell by the large image to your right. Now, I have a confession to make: I never made it to a toga party in college. Never had a crazy frat at the podunk small college I attended that threw such parties. The nearby university probably had them, but I never went. You see, my reasoning for not toga-ing (?!?) is the same reason I don't feel I'd be the best person to showcase ink: I'm a skinny bitch.

No, really. Like Ichabod Crane skinny. Olive Oyl skinny. I truly am all skin and bone. Not that I haven't tried gaining weight before. Just melts right off me. Don't worry, ladies: I'm a douche, I know. My wife tells me that every time I talk about anything weight-related.

So when it comes to putting some tats on my arm or wearing an outfit that supposedly "showcases" my physique, I usually pass. I mean, I don't like looking at my skinny ass; sure as hell know no one else does. Unfortunately, I don't have a choice. The hosts have laid down the law: No toga, no party.

Therefore, I must attempt to hold my head high and send off the aura that I look friggin' hot in a toga. Image is everything, the saying goes. Granted the person who said that is now saying his hair was fake, but I digress.

So in my head, I'm looking like this:

When we all know I probably look more like this:

Fun with Photoshop

So we went shopping yesterday to pick up a couple things and Michelle decided that Kaitlyn needed a new hat, one that we could keep at daycare when she goes outside to play.

I'm cool with that, especially considering we shop the sales and pick up such things on the cheap. That's one of the cool things about Michelle. She's a sale shopper. Mind you, she's no Stay-Up-And-Wait-In-Line-On-Black-Friday shopper like myself, but she's darn good.

We made our way to Ross and picked up a new cap for her. And by the way: It's a cap, people. Don't call it a toboggan. A toboggan is a sled. Only backwoods people call it a toboggan.

Anywho, Michelle's selection got me thinking. Plus, I was sort of bored after cleaning the bedroom and giving the dog its medicine. You know, life of the semi-retired:

The cap in question, which leads to ...

Oh yeah, you got served ... by Kaitlyn

Crying babies = birth control for non-parents

It's not typical for Michelle and I to get a babysitter and go out for an evening. I think I can count on one hand the number of times we asked for such a reprieve from Kaitlyn. Those times we have done so, family and friends have stepped up to the plate so we didn't have to shell out ducats for the privilege of shelling out more ducats.

Friends like Aunt Shannon.

Wonderful Aunt Shannon, one of the first people at the hospital when Kaitlyn was born, who watched Boo for a week only minutes hours days after meeting me and Michelle, who cooks some mean chicken cheese steaks and kindly invites us to dinner. Wonderful Aunt Shannon.

Kaitlyn loves her some Aunt Shannon. Always points out Aunt Shannon's house on walks. Always a hug for Aunt Shannon. One of Kaitlyn's first words was "Dutch," an abbreviated "Dutchess," which is Aunt Shannon's dog.

There was a surprise party last night for one of our neighbors, Kim, who turned 30. We asked Aunt Shannon if she could watch Kaitlyn for a bit so we could make an appearance. Aunt Shannon, always willing to help, said sure. So around 7:30 pm, Aunt Shannon and Dutchess came by.

Okay, before we go any further: Rewind to earlier that same day. I pick up Kaitlyn from daycare. I read her progress report sheet for the day. Little bit of a temperature, but nothing out of the ordinary. Ate great, go figure. Nap Time: 11:55 am - 12:30 pm.

WHA?!?!???! Oh this can't be right, I say to the teacher. Yes, she replies. And she knows this to be correct because at half-past noon when Kaitlyn stirred, she was so loud that she woke the rest of the room up, causing no one to get a true nap time in. When Kaitlyn ain't happy, nobody's happy.

I knew this would lead to one of two scenarios: The first, Kaitlyn would crash early and Aunt Shannon would have the easiest of easy nights. The second, well ...

At 8:30 pm, while at the party, Michelle's phone rings. She picks it up.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

I still don't know whether that sound came from Kaitlyn or Aunt Shannon. All I know is party over, time to go. We walk in our front door and there she is: a scared, tired and shaking girl, looking like someone just crushed all her hopes and dreams. Her eyes, so wide and empty. She didn't know what was going on.

And there was Kaitlyn, too.

Apparently our little girl was so tired she had a meltdown, which is Scenario #2. I know I didn't have to tell you that, but I probably should have told Aunt Shannon that. I tried every soothing technique that I know, Aunt Shannon assured us. Nothing.

I take Kaitlyn and lay on the floor, stroking her back to calm her down. She eventually rests her head on my shoulder and falls back asleep in mere minutes. Michelle takes Aunt Shannon and sits on the couch, stroking her back to calm her down. She eventually rests her head on the cushion and lets out a sigh, ready to head home.

Aunt Shannon loves her some Kaitlyn, but this night was a little rough on her. Jokingly, I tell Aunt Shannon she's more than welcome to keep Kaitlyn when Michelle and I go up to New Jersey in the coming weeks. Instead of watching Boo, she can watch Kaitlyn and we'll take the dog with us.

No, she said definitively. That's all the birth control I need right there.

I know how she feels

I was going to take a day off after yesterday's events. I don't think anyone would argue.

However, while watching some TV at the end of the day, I came across this ad. Too funny.

The birds, the bees and the elephant's junk

I wasn't supposed to write a blog post this afternoon. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I was supposed to post a couple of pictures showing everyone what a great time we had at the N.C. Zoo with Aunt Kari. I was supposed to say We had a great time, take a look! and call it a day. Mail it in for today and then go into some more detail tomorrow, getting two posts for the price of one.

We weren't supposed to see six feet worth of elephant happiness.

We were having a great time walking around the zoo. We toured the North America pavilion, checked out some animals. Kaitlyn walked nearly the entire time; no small feat considering the place is 500 acres and has about five miles of trails.

We were about halfway done with the African pavilion when we made it over to the Watani Grasslands, where the elephants hang (pun intended). And boy, oh boy, did this elephant hang.

Michelle and Aunt Kari couldn't stop watching this poor elephant just flapping in the cool fall air, which apparently doesn't affect his "stature" as it does his human counterparts. There the girls stood, for a good three or four minutes, staring intensely. More scared than anything.

Michelle: It's like a train wreck.

Aunt Kari: I know. I can't move my eyes off it.

Aunt Kari: I feel so bad for those female elephants.

Me: You realize their asses are the size of a Buick, right? It's all relative. (Now, I don't know if female elephants like to swing that way, but you get the idea. I'm going to guess that at one of those watering holes a fertile male elephant can find a promiscuous female willing to "give anything a try once.")

Thank goodness Kaitlyn is old enough to know her animals, yet too young to even start recognizing anything that might be, well, off. And no, we did not take a picture, much to the dismay of Aunt Kari. Apparently she wanted a keepsake.

The elephant in question, post-erection