I met my match in Puddin and Pie

She knows she's in trouble, or at least knows that she WILL be should we discover what she's been into, so she sidles her way through the kitchen like a small tin duck at the Carnival, bobbing and waddling and trying to avoid getting shot with a plastic pellet.

We're both cooking dinner at the time (by "both cooking" I mean "she's cooking while I stand there and relatively ineffectually look helpfully-sexily-mildly-retarded") but Wife notices her first and asks what it is that she's doing.

A wry smile spreads across the small child's face as she stares me in the eyes lovingly and pretends to not have heard her mother's question. I repeat the question, for posterity if nothing else, and her pace quickens as she continues rocking sideways through the room.

After moving around the kitchen counter and squatting down to small child's level, I ask her what she's got behind her back. Barely a flicker passes across her eyes as she gleefully pulls one of her hands into view and wiggle's it's emptiness in front of my face.

"Nice try Pie-Pie," I smile sternly, "but seriously, lemme see what's in the other hand."

A more noticeable flicker passes across her eyes this time, as she looks me in the eyes placidly and innocently, shuffles her hands behind her back for a second, and then holds up the now empty other hand.

I simply stare in astonishment for a second before I grab her and spin her little body around to reveal a paintbrush that she's pulled from it's drying spot above the washer.

She's barely THREE, and I've seen worse sleights-of-hand from idiot wedding magicians.

I'm afraid.

---

Bed time isn't a huge trial for us, as both kids are usually fairly tuckered, and we get 'em down easily with a minimum amount of fuss and a fair amount of stories or mellow conversation. It's when she feels like testing things that make it difficult, and I sensed her attempting this by sneaking onto the floor in search of an elusive toy while ignoring my command to climb back into bed.

It had been a long day, and though the expression she was showing me was obviously meant to make me think it, she just wasn't being that damn cute. A lecture on being good and going to sleep instead of being naughty and ignoring the directive to sleep was going as well as can be expected, and I genuinely thought she was kind-of-sort-of listening.

She nodded when I asked questions of comprehension and she smiled lovingly into my eyes as her little hand snuck up from underneath the covers and began to scratch around in her ear.

It was only when I noticed the other hand sneaking up towards her opposite ear that my suspicions sparked, and those suspicions full-on flared when I saw that the "itching finger" was firmly embedded in her ear as a finger from the other hand was inserted into her itch-free ear.

A vacuum-sealing SCHOOP was almost audible as both her ears were firmly plugged and a satisfied smile broadened across her angelic face.

I almost screamed, "Are you frickin' kidding me?!?!" as I pulled her hands from her ears, but it's terribly confusing to be caught so firmly between the desire to chastise (or even punish severely) and the feelings of admiration and respect for such a blatantly cheeky act.

Oh, I punished her, not severely, but you have to respect the fact that the kid simply didn't want to be lectured, did the best she could to avoid it, yet still wanted to let me think that I was succeeding.

I'm very afraid.

---

Bro-in-law and his girlfriend had dropped in the night before and we'd had a bit to drink while attempting to ruin his girlfriend's birthday fondue set, so the next morning's pitter-pattering of tiny elephants went ignored for a bit longer than normal.

I told Wife to stay in bed while I got up to quiet the herd and was greeted with an over-enthusiastic, "DADDY!" and a slightly guilty-looking little girl, who's face was covered in what looked like frosting off of a glazed donut.

She defines "precocious" and has the appetite of a large bovine, so if a meal happens to be a bit tardy, just about anything is sought out for at least a test-tasting.

I wiped my finger across her cheek in extreme curiosity, knowing that if we'd had anything frosted in the house I'd have surely partaken in it already.

"What is this? What have you been eating?" I asked, popping my finger into my mouth.

Smiling sweetly at me she shrugged, and replied reasonably honestly, "I don't remember."

'Sweet' and 'frosted' were two of the things I was at the very least expecting, and I cursed and spat the plastic-tasting flecks of unknown across the oven while shouting, "What the hell is that? It's not even ORGANIC!?!?"

It seems the previous evening's efforts to ruin bro-in-law's woman's fondue pot were dwindled down to the use of those tiny tealighter candles, which bear a remarkable resemblance to a foil-wrapped, sugary treat.

She'd been gnawing on wax. Yummy.

I began cleaning her up and yet another lecture when I noticed that where there were once seven gleaming, pristine, gorgeous-looking, home-grown tomatoes on the counter, there were now six lovelies and one gnarled lump of seed-bleeding gore.

Frustrated already, I snatched it up in my hand and held it in front of her sticky little face.

"What's this?" I asked with a snarl, yet remaining calm.

Without missing a beat, she pointed at the remaining tomatoes and replied happily, "It's one of those," obviously pleased that my question was an easy one to field.

"What happened to it?" I asked, feeling my temper rising.

With a look that suggested that I may have an extra chromosome or two, she replied condescendingly and somberly, "It got chewed."

"Kid, I'm hungover and don't particularly feel like playing The Pronoun Game," I sighed out exasperatedly, "who chewed it?"

Her expression grew even more somber as she lowered her head, and her voice, and her hope faded that I wasn't going to ask that particular question as she said, "I did."

At that moment, with my head pounding, my bladder straining, and my stomach gurgling unhappily, the admission of the truth was like a shining beacon, but my anger only slightly lessened as I asked, "What the hell were you thinking first eating wax and then climbing up on the counter, where you KNOW you're not allowed, and eating a tomato?!?!?!"

A brief flicker of hope lit her eyes and a slight smile spread as she thought that maybe the Loss-of-Memory card would bail her out yet again when she said questioningly, "Um... I don't know?"

I'm very, very, afraid.

---

If this kid is on the verge of outsmarting me NOW, whether I'm hungover or not, when she's only just turned three... by the time she's a teenager I'm frickin' DONE FOR.

My saving grace is that Wife was a Black Belt in the exact same brand of LittleShit Fu that our youngest is quickly mastering, as she was the spittin' image of that same unique blend of piss n' vinegar. At least that's what my mother-in-law, CrazyCatLady feels the need to share with me every time that I'm touting the awesomeness of Wife in front of her.

Regardless, she's on MY side now, and I can see myself calling upon her Ninjahood, "Honey, she's countering my Stern Lecture of Doom with The Crouching Rabbit and my Disapproving Glare of the Watcher with Eye of Doe, can you go lay the smack down, BruceLeeStyle?"

I've met my match in Puddin' and Pie

She knows she's in trouble, or at least knows that she WILL be should we discover what she's been into, so she sidles her way through the kitchen like a small tin duck at the Carnival, bobbing and waddling and trying to avoid getting shot with a plastic pellet.

We're both cooking dinner at the time (by \"both cooking\" I mean \"she's cooking while I stand there and relatively ineffectually look helpfully-sexily-mildly-retarded\") but Wife notices her first and asks what it is that she's doing.

A wry smile spreads across the small child's face as she stares me in the eyes lovingly and pretends to not have heard her mother's question. I repeat the question, for posterity if nothing else, and her pace quickens as she continues rocking sideways through the room.

After moving around the kitchen counter and squatting down to small child's level, I ask her what she's got behind her back. Barely a flicker passes across her eyes as she gleefully pulls one of her hands into view and wiggle's it's emptiness in front of my face.

\"Nice try Pie-Pie,\" I smile sternly, \"but seriously, lemme see what's in the other hand.\"

A more noticeable flicker passes across her eyes this time, as she looks me in the eyes placidly and innocently, shuffles her hands behind her back for a second, and then holds up the now empty other hand.

I simply stare in astonishment for a second before I grab her and spin her little body around to reveal a paintbrush that she's pulled from it's drying spot above the washer.

She's barely THREE, and I've seen worse sleights-of-hand from idiot wedding magicians.

I'm afraid.

---

Bed time isn't a huge trial for us, as both kids are usually fairly tuckered, and we get 'em down easily with a minimum amount of fuss and a fair amount of stories or mellow conversation. It's when she feels like testing things that make it difficult, and I sensed her attempting this by sneaking onto the floor in search of an elusive toy while ignoring my command to climb back into bed.

It had been a long day, and though the expression she was showing me was obviously meant to make me think it, she just wasn't being that damn cute. A lecture on being good and going to sleep instead of being naughty and ignoring the directive to sleep was going as well as can be expected, and I genuinely thought she was kind-of-sort-of listening.

She nodded when I asked questions of comprehension and she smiled lovingly into my eyes as her little hand snuck up from underneath the covers and began to scratch around in her ear.

It was only when I noticed the other hand sneaking up towards her opposite ear that my suspicions sparked, and those suspicions full-on flared when I saw that the \"itching finger\" was firmly embedded in her ear as a finger from the other hand was inserted into her itch-free ear.

A vacuum-sealing SCHOOP was almost audible as both her ears were firmly plugged and a satisfied smile broadened across her angelic face.

I almost screamed, \"Are you fucking kidding me?!?!\" as I pulled her hands from her ears, but it's terribly confusing to be caught so firmly between the desire to chastise (or even punish severely) and the feelings of admiration and respect for such a blatantly cheeky act.

Oh, I punished her, not severely, but you have to respect the fact that the kid simply didn't want to be lectured, did the best she could to avoid it, yet still wanted to let me think that I was succeeding.

I'm very afraid.

---

Bro-in-law and his girlfriend had dropped in the night before and we'd had a bit to drink while attempting to ruin his girlfriend's birthday fondue set, so the next morning's pitter-pattering of tiny elephants went ignored for a bit longer than normal.

I told Wife to stay in bed while I got up to quiet the herd and was greeted with an over-enthusiastic, \"DADDY!\" and a slightly guilty-looking little girl, who's face was covered in what looked like frosting off of a glazed donut.

She defines \"precocious\" and has the appetite of a large bovine, so if a meal happens to be a bit tardy, just about anything is sought out for at least a test-tasting.

I wiped my finger across her cheek in extreme curiosity, knowing that if we'd had anything frosted in the house I'd have surely partaken in it already.

\"What is this? What have you been eating?\" I asked, popping my finger into my mouth.

Smiling sweetly at me she shrugged, and replied reasonably honestly, \"I don't remember.\"

'Sweet' and 'frosted' were two of the things I was at the very least expecting, and I cursed and spat the plastic-tasting flecks of unknown across the oven while shouting, \"What the hell is that? It's not even ORGANIC!?!?\"

It seems the previous evening's efforts to ruin bro-in-law's woman's fondue pot were dwindled down to the use of those tiny tealighter candles, which bear a remarkable resemblance to a foil-wrapped, sugary treat.

She'd been gnawing on wax. Yummy.

I began cleaning her up and yet another lecture when I noticed that where there were once seven gleaming, pristine, gorgeous-looking, home-grown tomatoes on the counter, there were now six lovelies and one gnarled lump of seed-bleeding gore.

Frustrated already, I snatched it up in my hand and held it in front of her sticky little face.

\"What's this?\" I asked with a snarl, yet remaining calm.

Without missing a beat, she pointed at the remaining tomatoes and replied happily, \"It's one of those,\" obviously pleased that my question was an easy one to field.

\"What happened to it?\" I asked, feeling my temper rising.

With a look that suggested that I may have an extra chromosome or two, she replied condescendingly and somberly, \"It got chewed.\"

\"Kid, I'm hungover and don't particularly feel like playing The Pronoun Game,\" I sighed out exasperatedly, \"who chewed it?\"

Her expression grew even more somber as she lowered her head, and her voice, and her hope faded that I wasn't going to ask that particular question as she said, \"I did.\"

At that moment, with my head pounding, my bladder straining, and my stomach gurgling unhappily, the admission of the truth was like a shining beacon, but my anger only slightly lessened as I asked, \"What the hell were you thinking first eating wax and then climbing up on the counter, where you KNOW you're not allowed, and eating a tomato?!?!?!\"

A brief flicker of hope lit her eyes and a slight smile spread as she thought that maybe the Loss-of-Memory card would bail her out yet again when she said questioningly, \"Um... I don't know?\"

I'm very, very, afraid.

---

If this kid is on the verge of outsmarting me NOW, whether I'm hungover or not, when she's only just turned three... by the time she's a teenager I'm frickin' DONE FOR.

My saving grace is that Wife was a Black Belt in the exact same brand of LittleShit Fu that our youngest is quickly mastering, as she was the spittin' image of that same unique blend of piss n' vinegar. At least that's what CrazyCatLady feels the need to share with me every time that I'm touting the awesomeness of Wife in front of her.

Regardless, she's on MY side now, and I can see myself calling upon her Ninjahood, \"Honey, she's countering my Stern Lecture of Doom with The Crouching Rabbit and my Disapproving Glare of the Watcher with Eye of Doe, can you go lay the smack down, BruceLeeStyle?\"

---

Awrighty, first off with some linky-yums, I wrote a guest entry for a DLand favorite, Clarity because it's this new thing Andyroo thought up and... well, coz she asked me and I'm a complete whore for attention.

AAAAAAAAAAND on that note, Wife is apparently opening up our cute little DLand-romantical world to her readers by openly inviting people to ask questions about amputees fellating vegetables... I mean, about ME (close enough, eh?). So feel free to ask her about how awesome I am at singing while making snail stew... Go on... DO IT.

My sis-in-law is awesome. Love her like a good game of \"Making Babies Chasey.\"

Also, I just can't help this one, but you gotta go check this guy out. Wife keeps coming in from the next room because I'm fucking cacking myself in here. I have no idea if I've ever been to his diary before, but I randomly clicked on a not-even-very-funny banner, started reading, and am now in tears. I think I might love him.

We found Nemo.

Last Sunday we went to the AQWA (Aquarium of Q-something Western Australia, I think) as we were sans kiddies and eager to explore a bit. I would've posted these pics sooner, but I've been busy with the Immigration BS and I tend to get a bit distracted by my beautiful, amazing wife and wonderful kids. So it goes.

We had one of the most amazing weekends with the trip to Ellis Brook (last entry) and a trip to the aquarium. We enjoyed our "freedom" from the childers while they were at Grandy and Grandad's ("bio" dad's folks) by the Nature Hike, going out clubbing with bro-in-law and his girlfriend, seeing the fishies, and running around in our underwear being all newlyweddy and stuff.

It was simply awesome.

Leafy Sea Dragon's are cool. Way cool, and we stared at them for a while before Jo suggested we take a picture. The sign that prohibited flash photography got me to thinking about the lack of signage in the entire Aquarium. It's still amazing to me the decided lack of warning labels and "No" this's and that's signs here. It's almost as if this culture pretty much assumes that you should know better and, if you don't, then you're piranha food, and we're all better off without you. Social Darwinism at it's best, and I couldn't be happier about the fact that I don't need to be constantly reminded of the stupidity that I am forced to share the planet with.

She reluctantly lets me post about any picture of her, but she's gotten LIGHTYEARS better than she used to be. Living with a guy who constantly reminds her that she's the sexiest, most beautiful, most attractive female ever to walk the Earth... must be good for her. Heh. That li'l bannerfish in the background is one of my most favoritest fishes ever, though it's commonly confused with the Moorish Idol from "Finding Nemo," it's still way cool. The Aquarium has a half-circle, glass, enclosure that runs through a horseshoe route through the biggest area of the place. There's a little moving sidewalk part on the inner half of the walkway and I had to stand on it in order to back up enough to get her in the picture. I'd post the other pictures of her, where she's smiling and ready for the camera to go off, but by the time I got the camera to focus I was already 20 feet away. Ha ha.

There were a bunch of these bigass rays cruising around across the glass half-circle so close that you could tell what sex they were... if you knew how to tell that kind of thing, that is.

These big buggers are freaky as hell. There were about a half dozen running around the tank and even though water magnifies things, I SWEAR they were as big as a truck. I had probably 30 chances for a good, quality photo, but I was too busy stamping my feet and squealing every time they came near.

This one was randomly on our back patio, taken by my brother-in-law Chris when he'd dropped by, and simply way too damn cute for words. Seriously, she's just the cutest little thing I've ever seen, and I admit that I probably won't get tired of hearing how much she looks like me.

Nature Fix and More Pics

When I first arrived here permanently, Jo and I went out exploring an area that she used to live near called Ellis Brook. We strongly lamented not bringing a camera that time so we decided to head back and make up for it.

It's always amazing to me how we both can go through our days needing our "nature fix" and not quite be as aware of that need as we are when we're actually getting it. Though we have a nice backyard and spend most of our time there, or even in the front, we DO live in the city and it's great to get away for even a few hours.

There's something about the beauty and majesty of something that Mom Nature's created that speaks to a part of our souls. Plants and trees, and especially moving water, have a stunningly calming effect on both Jo and I. We will most definitely always live near natural beauty.

Ellis Brook starts just past the top of the aptly named, "60-foot falls."

Hardly anyone was up there that day, so we captured our couply cuteness from the end of my arm.

"Look Ma! I'm in the BUSH and other Australiany stuff!" Still have yet to see a 'roo up there, though I did see some of their shat.

My beautiful wife, serenely partaking of the view from atop the falls.

Wife sexily posing near the creek at the top of the falls where we stopped and played. If you look closely, you can see the highrise buildings of the city in the distant background. Yep, that's Perth right there. Awesome.

You can see the city a little better in this one. So close, yet so different. We've truly got the best of many different worlds here.

We "Huck Finnned" it for a bit, right before we ditched the majority of our clothing in favor of the warm sun and cool water. NO, those pictures are NOT for sharing. *wink*

Beautiful wife, photogenically and happily sunning a bit by the creek.

Cooling herself off a bit.

And finding that the contrast between sun-warmed skin and cold spring water elicits much gasping.

That night, we headed out on the town in celebration of brother-in-law Chris's girlfriend's birthday. It takes her significantly longer to get ready than my own personal 4 and a half minutes, but MAN is it SO worth it.

We call it "Putting The Hotness On" and I believe that few things have been more appropriately named (at least in her case).