Loch Family

Our family, Ike, Mimi, Kitty, Buffy (with Corky, in utero), and I went to Loch Bruin as the Scots would say, Bear Lake to you, Schmear Schmake in this 'blog. We were on vacation. Vacation, for those of you that don't know, is what you do to test yourself to see if you will or will not kill your children when put under extreme stress. Oh, you've never heard that definition before, because no one actually says it out loud. And, although you are ashamed to admit it, you know it's true. Our kids are still alive, which means we've passed the test, at least for this year.

The trip started with lots of driving. Driving with little kids who were excited about the destination. And, when little kids are excited about a destination that is far away they tend to get impatient. When they get impatient they say stuff that is annoying. And, when they say stuff that is annoying, the person that is annoyed is forced to say things to stop the annoyance. These things that are said do not work. Even the ones that involve horrible consequences. Horrible consequences are not believed by my children--not only not believed, but ignored.

On a related note, did pioneer children ask, "when will we be there?" as much as present-day children do? If they did, I bet pioneer parents avoided threatening their children with horrible consequences, because of the reality of horrible consequences. "Timmy, you stop bugging Gwen or you'll only eat a cold, raw, potato for dinner tonight." Then, what would they say when Timmy leaves Gwen alone and Timmy still only gets a cold, raw, potato for dinner? He'd wonder why he stopped whittling her doll's head, or whatever Timmys did to Gwens in pioneer times.

Of course, Schmear Schmake was great. Buffy's family, the Pendergasts, have a time share there on one side of the lake and her whole family goes there every other year. We get to hang out at a couple of pools, tennis courts, play grounds, beach, and golf courses of various type (e.g. mini, and regular).

While we were there our pet fish Hadley Dickamore Riches died. His baby-sitter called to break the news. She gave him a proper burial at sea. I still quite miss the little guy. Ike drew him into his family portrait for school and has been writing a series of spy stories starring the fish in an Indiana Jones hat.

Also, while at Schmear Schmake our lap top's hard drive died. Buffy did it. It brings me great pleasure to know it wasn't me. Our computer is only about six months old, we have sent it back for repairs twice. I hate twice.

Also, also, while at the Schmake as our van, the Schmanda Schmodessy, sat innocently in the parking lot it was backed into and dented in the rear by a 16-year-old girl who had just gotten her driver's licence that very day. She left us a hand-written note complete with the following emoticon :( . I was nice to her, and she learned much about responsibility and how insurance works. Unfortunately, the back lift gate, hatch, trunk thingy would not open any more. So I had to load the van by going over the back seat with all of our belongings.

After these three bad things happened, we wondered if there was anything else coming. Perhaps the horrible consequences we had predicted about our children would come true. We shuddered and repented.

I took the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with each child. Ike and I mini golfed. In his six-year-old mind he kicked my trash. He told everyone so in those very words. In reality, he kicked my trash. Ike also picked up chess somewhere and we spent a few hours playing computer chess (before Buffy broke the computer).

Mimi and I went on a walk together one night. We wished on the wishing star. Talked about starting Schmee Scmool. Walked on the beach. Collected "she shells." Sat on a park bench and chatted until it was way past bedtime. On the way back to our condo, she sang me a song:

"I wish I had a little red box to put my mommy in.
I'd take her out go, "smooch, smooch, smooch"
and put her back again.

"I wish I had a little red box to put my daddy in.
I'd take him out go, "mmm, mmm, hug."
and put him back again.

"I wish I had a little red box to put my good friends in.
I'd take them out go, "how do you do?"
and put them back again."

Kitty--like kitties do--pooped a lot. So, we changed her a lot. A whole lot. Waaaaay more than usual.

Corky, as he will be known on this blog, just sat there floating in his ambiotic fluid, gestating while distending Buffy's stomach region.

All in all, it was a great time.