A Case of Mistaken Identity: Part 2

Ben and I traveled to Morgan this morning to share in the festivities surrounding the double-header baby blessing.

Everything was going so well. The kids were blessed, Ben ate his goldfish crackers, and we made it through church without incident.

Afterwards, we went to the Courthouse Auditorium for a "small" family gathering. Colton, Dezi (sp?), and Tosha were setting up the tables. For those of you who know Colton, you will know that he is going through a hairy phase at the moment. His auburn hair and beard are long but well-trimmed.

Ben went berserk when he saw Colton.

"Baby Jesus!" he yelled with every ounce of strength his tiny lungs could muster.

It's hard to know what one might do/say in such company. Some might kneel... Some might cry... Well, Ben had a different response.

Before I could contain him, he ran to the other end of the auditorium. With his arms making windmill circles and his legs flailing wildly, he shouted "JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!"

Dezi laughed, but Colton was not impressed.

Sorry, dude.

Bedtime Stories

The scene begins with Jessica scrunched into Ben's toddler bed with him.

"Mom..."

"Yes, Ben."

"I wanna snack."

"No more snacks. It's time for sleep."

"Ohhh.... Darnit."

A few moments pass.

"Mom..."

"Yes, Ben."

"Tales... and Bob da damatoe fall down. hehehe. Dat Bob so funny. I wike Tales."

"Ok, Ben. Momma's going to get her pajamas on and go to bed."

"No, Mom! No jammas! You stay here wear pants!"

"I love you, nigh-night, sweet dreams."

"Wuv-oo, Mom, nigh-night."

A Case of Mistaken Identity and Mistaken Gender

Sundays create a sense of restlessness for Ben. Sure, the comfy maroon chairs in the back of the chapel are fun for a little while, but he often needs something a little more engaging. Fruit snacks and goldfish crackers usually do the trick, but yesterday he wanted an adventure.

As we roamed the halls, we searched for treasures under a Christmas tree, and we hunted lawn gnomes in rooms 117 and 116.

As Sacrament Meeting drew to a close, we made our way to the nursery for a bit of tom-foolery. Another individual walked toward us from the other end of the church, but a glare from a nearby glass door obstructed our view.

"Oh, look!" cried Ben. "It's Grandma!" As we walked closer to the individual, Ben and I realized that it was NOT Grandma. "Oh, it's a guy," Ben shouted when he realized his error.

I didn't know how to respond to his assertion, and neither did the 16 year-old girl who was mistakenly called "Grandma" and subsequently "a guy."

She whole-heartedly glared at me when I said, "Oh, come on now, little boy. Let's go find your Daddy."

...and so it begins.

So, there I was... sitting at the computer on a homework-riddled Wednesday night. Ben was in bed despite his best efforts to the contrary.

As I wrote about the relationship between management practices, creativity, and innovation, Ben began to cry for me.

"Day," he inquired. ("Day" is a combination of Daddy and Jay... the two names by which I am commonly known.)

To Ben's chagrin, Day did not respond. As such, the youngster continued his lamentation.

"Day, come here" quickly turned into "Day, come here, please." When his attempts to woo me with pleasantries failed, he turned to other methods.

"Day, come here right now!"

I chuckled a bit, but with each new cry, I noticed how the word "Day" sounded more and more like the word "Die." Indeed... I could sense that something diabolical was in the works.

Ben continued to cry, and each new attempt to draw me into his room was met with stone cold opposition.

Here's how I see it: When it's bedtime, it's bedtime. Structure, order, and consistency are the pillars upon which something very noble is perched. I am a stern father, but I am not heartless. Ben knew my weakness... and he exploited it.

"Day... I poopy!" he called... repeatedly.

Having no desire to subject my child to a sleepless night in a desecrated dipe, I charged into his room to remedy the situation.

As soon as I entered his abode, the shouting turned from "Day, I poopy" to "Day, watch Diego."

I smelled something rotten, but the scent did not originate within the polka-dotted, Target-brand, size 5 diaper.

Indeed... When I examined the contents of the diaper, I found something much more sinister.

Lies... That's what I found, folks. Lies...

As I re-applied the sticky tabs of Ben's unused diaper, the look on his face seemed to say, "Oh, sorry, Day... My mistake. I guess I wasn't poopy after all. Perhaps we should watch Deigo together for a few moments before retiring for the evening."

Although I maintained a stoic facial expression as I returned Ben to his sleeping quarters, a chuckle escaped my lips as I called Jessica to tell her what "her son" just did.

Escapades in Counting

Jay: "Ben, how many toes do you have?"

Ben: "One... two... three... four... P... R... W... X... Y... TEN!"

Jay: "Yup, that's right!"

Isn't that great?! My kid knows how to use algebraic variables! I didn't learn stuff like that until I was in 7th grade!

Twinkle, Twinkle

Ben's musical debut displays a variety of skills: range, memorization, improvisation... skat... There's also a little bit of singing in there, too. Well done, kiddo.

Growing Up

...and now... the moment some of you have been waiting for... BEN'S BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION!

Something Grand is Coming...

Sports Pictures and Movies Needed!!!

Dear Turner Family,

As part of my movie-making endeavors, I need tons of pictures/videos of your kids (or yourselves) engaging in sports-related activities. Here's a sample of what I've been doing so far.

Two Year-Old Attitude

For our Family in Distant Places...