Saturday, March 04, 2006
Mrs. Horns is in Texas this weekend to take care of some family business, to see her pregnant sister and go to the North Texas Irish Festival. Last time she went she came home with kilts and Celtic Football club jerseys for me & the youngest Lad. The latter has goten more use.
With her out of town, I'm home with the wee and oldest Horns and a relatively short "honey do" list. So what follows is our Saturday in chilly North Wilmington.
Wee Horns: "Daddy turn on TV! TV!"
Uncle Horns: "Stillsleepytime. Have some juice."
Uncle Horns: Makes coffee. Sits in front of TV.
Uncle Horns: *harmless flatulence*
WH: "Daddy, where'd that come from?"
Uncle Horns: "My bottom."
Go to McD's for BEC bagel meal with extra hash brown. WH eats and is quiet for the first time since 6:45am.
Uncle Horns tries to remember when the wee one wasn't so chatty. Answer is elusive.
Sit and watch Chelsea play WBA. Jose Mourinho needs an ass kicking. WH is uninterested and wants to alphabetize all of the DVDs. He only manages to spread them around the floor.
Me and WH go to the barber shop to get his first professional haircut and the second of his life. The first came about a year ago when Mrs. Horns did her thing with the clippers. She did a great job. The barber shop is packed and the barber is talking to a waiting customer about some hotel/casino in Vegas. The customer offers that Elvis sometimes visits. The barber hears that the Botox has really helped him. Then the dead rock stars come out....Jim Morrison...Bob Marley...Buddy Holly...Jimi Hendrix.....Mama Cass. Everyone is chiming in. I share that Janice Joplin's collagen treatments backfired.... WH is waiting pariently, sitting in the chair listening. Finally our turn at the chair comes and predictably, he starts screaming. The barber is a pro and distracts him while he takes turns pretending to cut my hair and cutting his. He keeps moving his head and I worry that an ER trip is imminent but he settles down for about three minutes. This gives the pro enough time for a good start. He lets us up gives him a lollipop and says to come back in a week, this will get him used to the idea. No charge for the visit. Sweet.
Play with legos. Apparently something is wrong with me. Every time I try to build something WH says, "No!" and tears down my creation which is little more than five stacked bricks. Destroying what I create seems to bring him joy. I'm hopeful this is not a trend.
Switch laundry. WH always comes down to the basement to "help" with the laundry. He usually just rolls around on the floor while I pile dirty clothes on top of him. We both get joy from this.
Sanwiches & Spaghetti-Os for lunch. WH asks for-no exaggeration-the 30th time, "Where's Mama?" I answer, "She's in Texas and will be home soon." He always repeats, "Tekas."
Fold laundry. I think our clothes are mating and having more clothes. Where does it all come from?
Oldest Horns wakes up and says Good morning. I mutter under my breath.
WH and I take a short nap. It's easy to tell when he's sleepy, he always pulls on his ear. Very cute.
Switch & fold more laundry. Rinse repeat. Literally.
Grandma Horns AKA Nona is coming to dinner tonight with Aunt L. They call to say they're on the way over. The first floor is relatively unscathed from the clutter & detritus that plagues the second floor. The cleaning is relatively easy. (I cleaned the first floor bathroom earlier. To Horns kids reading this: PUT. UP. SEAT. Thank you.)
They bring a roast beef, big bottle of wine, spuds & green beans. We chat, laugh and watch WH play coy. For apps we enjoy cheese/crackers & shrimp cocktail. I eat 18 shrimp. Good.
We make dinner together and everything is progressing nicely until I try to make the Horseradish sauce for the beef. It must be mixed in equal parts with mayonaise. Miracle Whip does not work. In the words of WH, "Nasty." The gravy is awesome so I don't miss the horseradish.
Dinner is wonderful. The meat is succulent and the spuds & gravy are divine. The lads eat their fill and we proceed to dessert of Eclairs. Also very good. The company is great. Nona and I are very similar, which is to say, at times, immature. And we like it. Of course I've never thrown mashed potatoes at anyone during Thanksgiving dinner.
Dishes are done as is the coffee. Several pix are taken and we say good-bye. WH is shy to the last but they don't take it personally. Two year olds are fickle. He'll come around when he realizes that there is serious spoiling in his future.
WH, Eldest Horns and I are in bed watching Animal Planet together. The youngest has some ear tugging going on, so he'll be out soon...
Everyone's out and I'm going to switch the laundry. Bon soir!
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