Birthday Surprise

"Mom! Come downstairs. It's time for your surprise party," Jack says.

I try in vain to complete one final e-mail before acknowledging that nap time is indeed over. I go for the stall. "Oh yeah? What kind of surprise party?" I ask, typing furiously. Before I can tap send, Jack grabs my arm and pulls me from my chair, chattering incessantly.

"It's gonna be great. We've got balloons. But they don't have too much air left in them, so you've got to come help us find some more air.

The only balloons I'm aware of are the survivors of last week's trip to Jim 'n Nicks barbecue joint and are indeed sorely in need of some form of resuscitation. I'm not really sure I'm up for the job, but fortunately Jack never hovers on one topic for long.

"Then we're going to turn out the lights and hide and then jump out and say 'Surprise!' Come on mom, it's almost ready!"

I allow him to lead me down the stairs as he describes the joys that await me below. "So this is a surprise party?" I clarify.

"Uh-huh. You're gonna be so surprised. It's gonna be great!" he enthuses.

We reach the bottom of the stairs and are met by a chorus of "Surprise!" from Sam and Tom. "Where 'prize?" Will wonders aloud, clearly puzzled that no one has presented him with a gift of any sort.

"Not, ye-et!" Jack scolds as he herds his brothers behind the love seat. "Turn out the light mom!" he tosses over his shoulder as they settle into their positions. Will wanders back toward me. "Where 'prize?" he asks again, now starting to get irritated that his hands are still empty.

I reach around the corner and kill the lights, wait two beats, then step inside the room. "I'm here!" I shout as I flip the lights back on.

"Surprise!" they chorus as they leap from behind the sofa and race toward me for hugs. Still hanging back, trying to understand the strange ritual happening around him, Will grumbles in disgust, "Want 'prize."

Sorry munchkin, but today is mommy's day. And I couldn't have asked for a better present.

Oh! Now I get it!

So there's a bit of an obsession with Batman in my house. Don't know if you can pick up on it from the picture above. However, it hadn't really spread to all aspects of our house until Tom (that's him on the far right) picked up a large, yellow, toy canoe in the bathtub and said, "Look, Mommy. Batman!"

When was Batman ever in a yellow canoe? I wondered to myself. "Really, Tommy? Batman?" I asked distractedly as I finished shampooing his hair and moved on to the next head in line.

"Batman!" He insisted, waving the canoe closer to my face. "Nana, Mommy!"

O.k. Batman in a yellow canoe with bananas. I couldn't let that one pass. I stopped shampooing his brother in order to focus all my attention on Tom. Otherwise, how would I get any sleep that night? "I don't get it, baby" I apologized, tapping the canoe. "What does this have to do with Batman?"

"Nana, Mommy," he said again.

"O.k. -- I think I get this part. The canoe looks a lot like a banana." He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows to let me know I'm on the right track. "Great. But what does that have to do with Batman, honey?" I plead.

Nodding to the beat, Tommy begins to sing a quite recognizable rendition of the theme song to that old sixties camp television show with Adam West as Batman. And since there were no lyrics, what do we all sing instead? Nana, nana, nana, nana. Nana, nana, nana, nana. Batman!

It seems so obvious now, doesn't it?

Will -- almost two years ago.

And Will today:



Why mess with a good thing?

Didn't See This One Coming

Last night we introduced a small bin of play food to the playroom in the vain hope of cutting down the number of fights taking place around the toy kitchen the boys got for Christmas. Everyone clusters around the colorful pile of plastic food and cardboard boxes of nothing, each boy staking claim to his personal favorites. Jack selects a pile of green peas.

Jack: Hey, dad. I'm gonna make pea soup.

Jason: Oh, yeah?

Jack: Yeah. Know why?

Jason (still unsuspecting): No. Why?

Jack: 'Cause anybody can roast beef, but nobody can pee soup!

Jack disintegrates into gales of laughter as Jason excitedly calls everyone he knows to share the comic genius of his oldest child. In the meantime, I begin a series of mental mathematics. If x is the number of years remaining until college multiplied by 365 days within those years, and y represents the total number of scatologic references one child is able to make per day, multiplied by 4 children. Then Z should be the total number of times I question whether it's possible for me to survive another second in this drowning pool of testosterone. I am officially abandoning all hope.

Happy Memorial Day, everybody!

FYI...

...those popular "flushable" wipes advertised for use with potty training toddlers live up to their name only in that they will indeed go right down the toilet. The will NOT, however, travel quickly out to your septic or sewer system. Instead, they will hang on even the slightest burr inside the pipe, rapidly creating a scale model of the Hoover Dam. Consequences vary. Maybe a toilet will simply overflow. Or perhaps you'll notice a general slowdown of all your drains. Or maybe you'll get really lucky and the pressure will cause a pipe to burst over your triplets' room sending a short, sharp shower of sh*t raining down onto the two-year-old, un-patchable Berber carpet. Thanks to the friendly staff of Superior Plumbing and Serve Pro of Birmingham for your prompt response. And a big "Up Yours!" to the makers of flushable wipes.

In my absence...

...Jack has really stepped up his big brother game and has been a huge help with his younger siblings. Tom's headstands and flips have gained both momentum and control. Will's love of Thomas the Train now borders on obsession. And last but certainly not least, Sam -- already the undisputed champ of his chosen field -- has perfected what I like to think of as The Flying Teabag. It involves a full leg extension, the use of a wall or conveniently located piece of furniture and -- of course -- a completely unsuspecting brother. Mommy is so proud.