Inside Out - A Daddy / Daughter Review (5 teardrops and no spoilers)

On Father's Day, I had the pleasure of spending a couple of hours in the cinema with my 3 daughters watching Pixar's latest release: Inside Out.

Here is my Daddy / Daughter review...

Note: If you haven't read one of my Daddy / Daughter reviews before (since this is my first, you may not have), don't worry about spoilers. I will make almost no reference to the content on the screen. Just the Daddy / Daughter experience of watching the movie. 

First off, Inside Out receives my highest Daddy / Daughter rating - a stunning 5 teardrops!

The lights dim. I am sitting between Daughters 1 and 2, with Daughter 3 one further seat over (next to 2). Daughter 2 is six years old. Daughters 1 and 3 are twenty and twenty-two, but in no particular order.

First up, we are shown a Pixar short, Lava, a beautiful and simple song/film about a volcano's search for love. Nice. Partway through, I sneak a glance at Daughter 3. Her eyes are glistening. Nothing from Daughters 1 and 2 yet, but certainly an omen that we're in for an emotional afternoon.

Inside Out starts. The main character, Riley, is born. We see her first glimpse of the world - her loving parents - in the opening seconds of the film. The waterworks start for Daughter 1. Riley looks a bit like Daughter 2. Uh oh.

A few scenes later - still in the early moments of the movie - Riley is 11. I hear Daughter 1 whisper "She's growing up so fast.." with a barely suppressed snivel. She glances at Daughter 2 who is stone-facedly alternating the shoveling of handfuls of Swedish Berries and popcorn into her small mouth. Ugh. 

Daughter 3's head is turned away but I know her eyes are wet.

And so it goes. Scene after scene. The movie is about emotions. At one point, it's also about how memories of childhood inevitably fade away and are forgotten. Daughter 1 loses it. Fully overcome. Daughter 3 is still looking the other way. Daughter 2 asks for some of Daughter 1's Mr. Big Chunks (which probably isn't what Daughter 1 actually purchased at the concession, but it's a funny name nonetheless.)

Daddy's feeling it too. Must not show daughters that Daddy feels things. Even...though...Daughter 2...I mean Riley...is growing...up...

Now, the movie's nearly over. The culminating moment is at hand. Daughter 3 can't hide it any more. She's now openly weeping. Daughter 2 is staring at her wondering if she hurt herself or something. She's also wondering if Daughter 2 has any caramel corn left.

Daughter 1 sees/hears Daughter 3 wailing. Joins in, but adds a bit of laughter to the mix. Laughing at the emotional wallop of the film. Laughing at her own feelings of loss and love of family. Laughing at her Daddy's feeble attempt to avoid detection.

Daughter 2 glances at Daddy, who is still futilely trying to cover up his sobs by turning them into chuckles. She is fooled. Daughters 1 and 3 know better. The mask is down. Daddy's human. Daddy cries. But Daughter 2 - who seems to feel nothing but a hankering for sugar or salt - doesn't catch on. She'll have more time believing that Daddy is superhuman. The innocent and all-too-brief time that will define her fleeting childhood...which...will...be over...in the blink...of...an eye. Sob.

---

Inside Out is a great, great film. Like a smart prizefighter, it knows exactly how to work you over and weaken you up so that when it comes time to land its crushing blow, you are utterly defenseless.

A must-see. 5 teardrops.

The Horrible Story about Sweet Little Forest Critters (contains scenes of graphic violence)

Bunny awoke with a start from a horrible dream. He had been in the forest with some of his forest pals. There had been a thunderous noise approaching that sounded like a gigantic herd of monsters. He hadn't been able to move. With the ground shaking and just as the dark shadows of the onrushing crowd of beasts were coming into view, his eyes had snapped open.

He had to warn his friends.

He found them at the usual place on the forest trail: Snake, Frog, and Snail.

"Guys! Guys!" he shouted with panic in his voice, "There's something terrible coming. It'll kill us all. I've seen it."

His friends, who had been chatting quietly, looked up, paused, and then started to snicker. "Oh Bunny, what issssssss it now?" asked Snake quite unconcerned by his skittish friend's warning.

"A herd! A terrible...enormous....stampeding herd...of monsters. It's c-c-c-coming. I know it is!" Answered Bunny, voice halting with panic.

"Ohhh...a herd," answered Frog, barely suppressing his laughter, "a giant herd of monsters, is it?"

"Sounds downright nasty, doesn't it?" continued Snail, making knowing eye contact with Snake and Frog.

"We need to run away! NOW!" Shouted Bunny, oblivious to to his friends' mockery.

Composing himself, eyes glistening as he barely contained a chortle, Snake answered Bunny: "Well, friend, if a giant herd of monstersssss ssssssuddenly showsss up, I would never run away. With my sssssserpentine movement I can elude any creature under the ssssssssun."

"And I," added Frog, "will simply vanish from sight using my amazing camouflage."

"My super-strong shell can withstand a crushing blow from any creature," bragged Snail, "I'm in no danger either."

"Why don't you hop off like you alwayssssss do and leave usssssss alone?" added Snake, "Your frightened, ssssssssstuttered warningssssssssss are sssssssssstarting to ruin thissssssssssss beautiful morning."

"Now, SHOO!" said Frog, punctuating his final word on the matter with a cruel laugh.

Bunny was about to insist, once again, that the danger was real but instead he grew very still as his big ears picked up an approaching rumble. His eyes grew very large. And with no further thought to the safety of his friends, he darted off into the forest, as rabbits are wont to do.

His friends, a few moments later, also heard the growing noise. With dawning understanding, they prepared their defenses. Snake started slithering back-and-forth, back-and-forth. Frog flattened himself against a leaf that matched his skin tone perfectly. Snail pulled all his gooey sensitive parts into his shell.

And just then, a group of recreational runners appeared on the trail, towering over the small creatures. One stepped on Snake despite his agile movements. Another landed square on the back of the invisible frog. A third crushed Snail's shell without even noticing. And off they ran, further down the trail and out of sight.

With the sounds of danger slipping further off into the distance, Bunny returned to the scene of devastation. Snake was torn in two. Snail's gooey parts were dripping out of shards of shell. Frog was flattened under a tread that clearly read "New Balance".

He felt a little sad, but surprisingly, he also felt pretty good. He was alive, after all. The sun was shining. And the peace and tranquility of his forest home had been restored.

"Bye guys," he said, as he hopped off to his favourite leaf-nibbling spot, chuckling to himself that Frog's final word had been "Shoo."

Moral of the story: While it might seem like snakes, frogs and snails are really cool, they are in fact jerks and bullies. Bunnies have lots and lots of sex, poo where they want, and dart away from me long before I almost step on them when I run the forest trails. Bunnies rule.

Something Special for Mummy

Jeffy opened his eyes. It was starting to get light outside.

Then he remembered how at bedtime last night Mummy had told him that he "had to be a better boy tomorrow" and that she was "frustrated with how much trouble he was causing lately". Worse, she had used her sad-angry face when she said those things (which made Jeffy more afraid than when she used just her angry face).

Then he also remembered that today was Mother's Day, it was not a school day, and that on days like today he was allowed to get out of bed and read a book as long as he didn't wake up Mummy and Daddy: "Mummy will be happy with me if I sit and read a book until she wakes up," he thought.

So he got out of bed and he went downstairs to find a book that he could read on the small, blue couch Mummy and Daddy bought him on his last birthday.

Before he got to his couch in the den, though, he had to walk past the family room. That's where he saw the tv and the clicker sitting on the foot-rest thing. This gave him a different idea.

"Hmmm...", thought Jeffy, "Daddy showed me how to turn on the tv and he told me the number that has all my shows on it. Mummy will still be happy with me if I sit quietly and watch tv without waking her up."

So he picked up the clicker and pointed it at the tv. But before pressing any buttons, he saw the smiley face sticker on the back of the clicker and started pulling at it with his fingernail. Before he knew it, the sticker came off in his hand and the little door on the back of the clicker opened up. Out fell four small batteries.

"Oh no. The clicker needs batteries to work and I'm not allowed to touch batteries," he realized, "but sometimes Daddy turns on the tv by touching the button on the bottom of the picture. I can do that and Mummy will be happy that I didn't touch the batteries and still watched tv without waking her up."

He walked over to push the button on the bottom of the tv. But next to the tv he saw his markers in a bag, right where Mummy had put them after he finished drawing last night before bed.

Jeffy got an even better idea: "I'll draw Mummy a picture! She loves when I make her pictures. And I'll write Happy Mother's Day on it just like they showed me at school when I made that flower card for her."

He grabbed the markers and brought them to the kitchen table. He sat down and poured them out of the bag so that he could draw (some of the markers rolled onto the floor, but he was already sitting so he left them there for now).

Then he realized he needed paper, and paper was in the den.

He stood up and went over to the den and up onto Mummy's desk where the printer sat (the printer that held the paper he needed). He reached into the printer and pulled out a few pages. While he was doing that, he noticed his Mummy's big coffee mug with some coffee still in it.

Jeffy got another great idea: "I'll bring Mummy's coffee mug to the kitchen and put it near the sink. She loves it when I help clean up after dinner and bring my dishes to the sink. This will make her so happy."

He took the mug, tucked it under his arm that was holding the paper, and tried to slide down from the desk. But the desk was a little higher than he thought and he hit the floor hard. This knocked the mug out from under his arm and it spilled on the desk, on Mummy's computer, on the chair, on the carpet and on the paper.

Jeffy wanted to cry, until he saw the shape the spilled coffee made on the paper he was still holding in his hand. It looked like the trunk of a tree! "Mummy loves trees and the park. I'll draw her a picture of a tree in the park using the spilled coffee to be the trunk. That will make her soooo happy. It'll be the best picture ever."

He went back to the kitchen, slipped a bit when he accidentally stepped on a marker, but regained his balance and sat back down in one of the kitchen chairs (wiping his coffee-wet hand on the chair so that it wouldn't get on his picture). He found a green marker by digging around in the pile of markers on the table (a few more rolling off the table as a result). And then he took the top off the green marker and got ready to draw leaves on top of the spilled-coffee-trunk. But try and try, he couldn't picture in his head what the top of a tree looked like so that he could draw it on the page.

He remembered the potted tree at the front door and decided to push it into the kitchen so that he could look at it as he drew his tree picture. Still holding the topless green marker, he walked to the door and tried to push the tree. It was heavier than it looked but when he lay down and put his hands against the wall he was able to push it hard enough with his feet so that it moved...and then started to tip over. He tried to grab the falling tree, swinging the green marker wildly along the wall, then the floor, then the pot, but didn't get his hands onto it in time. It fell with a loud crash.

Then he heard running footsteps upstairs and saw his Mummy coming down the stairs with her worried face.

Without even making it to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, looked around, and saw everything all at once: The clicker lying in the family room with its door open and batteries scattered all around it; Coffee puddles on the den carpet and on the desk and on her computer; Markers strewn all over the kitchen floor and table; Little wet hand marks on the kitchen chair; Fresh, green lines on the hallway wall and floor; Her favourite potted tree lying on its side with dirt spilled everywhere; and Jeffy lying next to it on the floor looking very guilty.

"Are you okay, Jeffy?" his Mummy asked, with her worried face changing into her sad-angry face.

"Yes Mummy," he answered.

"Can you tell me why the house looks the way it does right now, Jeffrey Randall Belmont?"

"Because I wanted to make you happy for Mother's Day," he answered.

"And how was this going to make me happy?" she asked.

"I was going to be downstairs all by myself, let you and Daddy sleep, and read a book. Then I decided to watch tv instead. Then I decided to draw you a picture instead. It was going to be a picture of a tree in a park. And I was going to put you and me in the park playing."

His Mummy walked over to where he was still lying, picked him up and carried him into the family room. She put the batteries back into the clicker and turned on the tv. They lay down on the couch together. And that's where Jeffy's Daddy found them snuggling an hour later when he finally came downstairs too (he didn't hear the crash because he slept with plugs in his ears).

Jeffy's Daddy asked what happened. Jeffy's Mummy said, "Jeffy made me happy by doing some really sweet things for me for Mother's Day, and we're snuggling. Would you mind cleaning up a little while we finish?"

"Okay...", he said, before continuing in a quiet whisper (so that Jeffy couldn't hear him): "... but Mother's Day was weeks ago..."

Jeffy's Mummy ignored him and kept right on snuggling with her sweet little son for whom every day was Mother's Day.

The End

An Open Letter to Door Dekers

If you've ever walked in a crowd through doors that swing shut on their own, you've probably encountered a Door Deker (term coined here on this date in Toronto, Ontario, Canada). Heck, you might even be one. Door Dekers are those who make their way through doorways in crowded places and carefully avoid touching the closing door - at all - thus ensuring that it swings shut in the face of the person behind them. It is to those people that I address the following open letter...

To all Door Dekers,

On behalf of the people who walk behind you in crowds, trying, as you are, to make their way somewhere important... you need to know what you do to us when you cross the threshold of a closing door without intervening in its momentum towards closure. We can only assume that you don't know, because otherwise we'd have to think that you are selfish and sadistic individuals (I choose my words with care, because my intention is to inform and not to inflame).

When you deke a door, for whatever reason, you are ensuring that it will collide with our noses (our most protrusive body part when we're walking forward in haste) and forcing us to take countermeasures that involve sacrificing some other part of our body because we like our noses.

Perhaps you have learned about the spread of infection and how touching unclean surfaces can endanger your health. Perhaps you are unaware of common courtesy. Perhaps you are deep in thought and oblivious to the fact that you are walking in a crowd. Perhaps you are texting and with your hands occupied, don't wish to bring another appendage into play. It doesn't matter the reason because the result is invariable and inevitable: By avoiding contact with the door, you are forcing contact for the person behind you.

Now, let's be clear; our ask of you is not that you hold the door for us, stepping aside gallantly so we can pass in front of you. That would be asking a lot, I suppose, and completely unnecessary. Instead, the ask is that you somehow slow the door's swing, with a shoulder, with a sleeved arm, with a foot, or with your hand if it's available and you're not concerned about infection. Imagine how that would help those of us who are behind you. And it seems like so little. A trifle, really.

We are people too, those of us who walk behind you. We have loved ones. We have somewhere to be. We have lives. In other circumstances, we could even be friends of yours. But when you deke a door, you are telling us that we don't matter; that you'd prefer to cause us pain (or at least annoyance) rather than violate your own desire to not have a door touch your body.

Enjoy the rest of your day, but know that our day won't be what it could have been because you, dear door deker, are a prick.

Sincerely,

The People Behind You.

Lullabies - If You Can't Beat 'em Join 'em

I was driving the 6-year old somewhere a couple of days ago and we were listening to Judy and David's Livin' in a Shoe on the CD player (a great children's album that my older two daughters also loved 16ish years ago). That's when J&D's "Lullaby" came on. Please take a moment to skim the lyrics below:

Just half as old as the day is new
Into this world we welcome you
All must seem so strange to your open eyes
But all your fears I'll rock away
And though you'll be too old one day
For now I'll fumble through a lullaby...

Lullaby, fall now softly away from the day
Lullaby, gentle dreams will come your way
As I sing a lullaby

Today you spoke my name to me
It seems like somehow suddenly
The world is spinning faster and the days all fly
But still, today when you were scared
You came to me to dry your tears
And calm you with your favourite lullaby

One day soon you'll be too old
To stay at home... and so it goes
A family of your own will fill your life
But think of me from time to time
And know that still down deep inside
I'm singing you to sleep, your lullaby.

So anyways, I'm driving along, and for some reason the road is getting all blurry, the 6-year old in the back seat has been replaced with two girls - one 4 one 6, and I'm feeling every one of my 50 years.

Got me thinking. Why is it that lullaby writers insist on having us sing songs to (and with) our kids about growing up, leaving childhood behind, getting old and feeble, and so on? Other examples:

Billy Joel's Lullabye (Goodnight My Angel):

Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullabye
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be 

James Taylor (You Can Close Your Eyes):

So close your eyes
You can close your eyes, it's all right
I don't know no love songs
And I can't sing the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
And you can sing this song when I'm gone

John Lennon (Beautiful Boy):

Out on the ocean sailing away
I can hardly wait
To see you come of age
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient
'Cause it's a long way to go
A hard row to hoe
Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime

Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

And as you can see from the examples above, Dads seem to be the biggest culprits.

In that spirit then, I now present two brand, spanking new lullabies. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? One's a "beat 'em" and one's a "join 'em". Enjoy.

Shut Up You Tiny Creep (a "beat 'em" by David)

Daddy's got to go soon, he's got much better things to do;
Then lying on your bed and catering to you.
I came up just to be here while you drifted off to sleep;
But it's been well past an hour now, so shut up you tiny creep.
 
Why won't you go to sleep, my love? Why won't you stop the show?
The game's been on for hours now and Daddy's got to go.
You cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry and cry;
The snot upon your lip, once fresh and new's already dry.
 
Daddy's got to go soon, he's got much better things to do;
Then lying on your bed and catering to you.
I came up just to be here while you drifted off to sleep;
But it's been well past an hour now, so shut up you tiny creep.
 
Even when you're older, you won't give back these nights I gave;
And another night like this will likely put me in my grave.
So let's please stop this torture, relax and please be calm;
Or this will be the last 'Girls' Night Out' for your dear Mom.

Daddy Won't Be Here for Long (a "join 'em" by David):

Sweet, sweet child it's bedtime now, the time to go to sleep;

You're just a baby now, your toys and books o'er night will keep.

But lying here beside you as you let go of the day;

I can't but think that time will fly and wash all this away.
 

Each day that you get older, is a day of Daddy's too;

He'll be old when you're still young and you could be cleaning up his poo.

So cherish him for now, as he sings this lovely song;

And remember as you're listening that he won't be here for long.

Sweet, sweet child it's bedtime now, so rest your weary head;
You're just a baby now and not worried 'bout when I'm dead.

But lying here beside you as you're drifting into bliss;

I can't but think that time will one day erase all of this.
 

Each day that you get older, is a day of Daddy's too;

He'll be old when you're still young and you could be cleaning up his poo.

So cherish him for now, as he sings this lovely song;

And remember as you're listening that he won't be here for long.
 

Sweet, sweet child it's bedtime now, so say goodnight at last;

You're just a baby now and that will go away all too fast.

And lying here beside you as the sandman does his thing;

I'll not think about how little time is left for me to sing.

A Few Words Are Worth a Thousand Pictures

This week, one of my sisters sent me a link to an album she set up online with scanned photos of people on my Mom's side of the family. Some are of people I know well and see all the time. Some are of people I knew who are no longer with us. And some are of people (like my Mom's parents) whom I never knew.

I also, this week, spent one of those small but miraculous, unplanned moments with my youngest daughter standing by the edge of a pond at dusk enthralled by a heron that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere while we were watching some ducks. I wrote a paragraph about it on Facebook.

I'm 50 now and a quarter of my life is behind me. Years and years from now, a grand- or great-grand- or great-great-grandchild of mine might be sitting around with his or her family wondering about me. This child (let's call him David Junior, or DJ for simplicity) can look at pictures of me and not learn much (besides the fact that I was devilishly handsome). He can look at pictures I took of my family and see that I was surrounded by beautiful people. But if he really wants to get to know me, he'll read through the blog posts and Facebook statuses that I wrote.

"What a guy," he'll think. "He sure was full of himself..." he'll observe, "...but some of the things he talks about and reflects on are things I can really learn from."

"Funny how much like him I am. What times he lived in. He sure loved his family. I think I could do worse than to be a Dad like him." And so on.

(I'm not sure why DJ doesn't just come visit me in Phoenix to get to know me better - just 5 minutes away by transporter - but let's say he doesn't like being pulled into billions of pieces and put back together 3,000 kilometers away. Kids these days.)

My point is that clearly... CLEARLY... a few words are worth far more than the pictures we seem so fixated on taking.

I watch parents hiding behind their cameras taking pictures of their kids playing soccer, or performing in the school play, or making a speech at graduation - instead of taking it all in. The sounds of kids running around and having fun. The smell of fresh cut grass on the soccer field. The warm breeze from the parent standing behind him or her, breathing down his or her neck...

Nobody's going to be able to experience THAT moment, that miraculous come-and-gone-never-to-be-seen-again moment, by looking at the picture. The parent will look at the picture once or twice and then put it away (physically or digitally) in an album somewhere. It will spark memories that were never really shared. And years from now, somebody may look at the picture, say 'nice picture', and then wonder about the people it captured all those years ago (like I did this week, staring at pictures of the grandparents I never knew.)

A few years ago, my two older daughters and I shared a moment that I'm sure will always be amongst the top 5 moments of my life. We were on the west coast of Vancouver Island. We took surfing lessons together and then spent a morning in cold water under grey clouds trying (mostly without success) to stand on a surfboard and ride it to shore. After hours of this, we pulled our boards up onto the beach. I went to the car and grabbed a cooler full of sandwich-fixings and some drinks. We sat shivering and exhausted on our boards, ripping into fresh bread with our fingers, stuffing the bread with tomato, cheese, and sliced turkey, then hungrily wolfing down our ragged sandwiches.

And then - for the first time that day - the sun came out.

I have photos of us from that day in our wetsuits, posing with our surfboards. I have pictures of us trudging down the beach into the water, and later back to the car. There is no photo of the moment I just described. There doesn't have to be. I can still see it vividly. I can still taste what was probably one of the best meals of my life sitting out there on the beach. I can still feel the sun on my clammy skin.


I didn't take a picture of the heron, either, the other night.

Or the moment that my youngest daughter was born with her two (much) older sister cowering in the delivery room bathroom listening to the mayhem.

Or the time my wife and I were in Barcelona and fell back in love with each other and food and walking and architecture and museums (but not sangria) - all in the same afternoon.

My words can't do justice to any of these moments, but they come far closer than a photo ever could.


I don't mean to get judgy or self-righteous when I complain about people hiding behind their cameras. I do it too and miss things when I do (and then kick myself when somebody says "Did you see that!?!" and I realize that I didn't).

When I look at the people in the photos in my sister's album, I can only wish that they were here to tell me about themselves: how they lived, what they believed, who they were, who they wanted to be, what made them happy, what made them sad...or that they at least wrote those things down. Their few words would be worth so much more to me than the carefully posed photos that say next to nothing.

Take pictures. Tell stories. Write them down.

DJ will thank you.

A Compundium of David's Facebook Status Word Play

I share my blog posts on Facebook, but I've never really shared my Facebook statuses in my blog. So with the spotlight on wordplay, here's some stuff from the last 5 years that I'm really proud of...

Wordplay involving my youngest daughter...

• Dropped Micaela's toothpaste last night. She was crestfallen.
• I went tobogganing with Micaela today for the first time - I guess it's all downhill from here. She and I are going to start playing with her astronomy kit next, so things are looking up. 
• Micaela and I were reading The Giving Tree last night before bed. We made it to the part where the tree says "cut down my trunk boy" and Micaela burst into tears and made me stop. I'd like to say I understand her reaction, but frankly I'm stumped.
• 
  We bought Micaela her first Lego kit (they come in 2 colour themes now - blue, for boys and girls who like blue, and pink, for boys and girls who like pink). She then enjoyed another first: stepping on a Lego brick. That made quite an impression.

Word and Picture Play

• Micaela came home from school with a bum knee

• Micaela blue her nose

• What do you call that dessert that I love the best? It's on the tip of my tongue...

• Great things come in small wrappers

Subtle and Tasteful Word Play

• Did anyone at McDonald's say the word "McWrap" out loud before deciding to use that name?
• I usually do my Facebooking first thing in the morning and there's usually way too much to catch up on because so many people are online until the wee hours of the morning intent on posting their every thought and activity. It would be much easier for me if you would all just cut down on your nocturnal e-missions. (I'm just kidding by the way...I don't usually read anyone else's posts.)
• (Taking extra care to avoid typos...) It's a good night for an election! 
• Gotta love those early morning runs! (6K at 5:30AM in the rain - and shame on you for thinking anything else).
• Toilet training is a big job. But now that we've started, there's no going back. Bummer.
• There is a specific dollhouse / tiny character set that is often on display in toy stores for kids to play with (like the train set I'm sure you've seen). Micaela has played with it 4 times in 2 different stores and each time she's filled her diaper within 5 minutes (which is so cool that I'm happy to change her diaper). I can't believe I was able to tell that story so tastefully and avoid all the great puns. PS - we always go home shortly thereafter because she's all pooped out.

Word Play Involving Sports

• I think the men's relay disqualification was out of line.
• Ran the half marathon yesterday. It made me feel like a bull with disappointing children. (My calves let me down).
• I was watching the NBA playoffs from the kitchen. I had to leave. (Can't stand the Heat).

Math Word Play

• If you're wondering what differentiates today from all other days, it is Middle's final High School exam (calculus). It's integral that she pushes herself to the limit and derives a great mark, so please join me in wishing her luck! As incentive, I hereby pledge to write her a cheque in the amount of her mark if she gets over 95% (I'll sine it, but I doubt Angie will cosine). Also, yesterday I tripped over a guy who was outside bronzing in the sun (sorry - not sure how I got onto that tangent).
• Integers are pointless.

Word Play On the Road

• Making like Jonah this week (in Wales).
• Went into a public bathroom. There was a sign that said "wet floor". I didn't want to, so I left.

Obtuse Word Play

• Deflated? Flat indeed. (Isn't the English language grand?)
• I am no cigar. I am my own worst enemy. I keep my friends close and my enemies closer. Close, but no cigar.

Just Plain Funny Word Play

• Geese bring me down.
• Best way to rid yourself of a Zombie infestation? Starve them. (But I guess that's a no-brainer).
• Last night, Micaela complained that with my leg resting on the ottoman I was blocking her view of the tv. What happened to a father's position of authority??? I really have to start putting my foot down.
• Hugh Grant, why the long face?
• Was going to buy myself a small skillet today, but I have bigger fish to fry.

Word Play Relating to Illness

• One of my ladies has pink eye so I'm avoiding making eye contact with her.
• Micaela's battling yet another cold, but she's keeping a stiff upper lip.
• You might think my sinus infection is kind of funny, but it's not.
• Left my jeans on the floor this morning. With Angie not feeling great, I really should be picking up the slack.