Through the Eyes of a Child

Hello and welcome to September!!!
For all you boneheads across what is left of our free country we are enjoying soccer season. 4 boys, 3 teams, 2 parents, 1 bottle of Alieve. That about sums it up. Actually they are all doing great and are star players on their teams! (insert proud dad look here). Of course, as dad is out there sweating and coaching them on and working with them, the first thing they do when they see you and their mother at the game is to say "Hi Mom!" Oh well.

The purpose of this entry is to bring attention to a rare moment in parenting; catching a glimpse of life through your child's eyes. Now sometimes you have a child like Marcus who likes to tell you EVERYTHING on his mind over and over again. All day. This gets annoying. And then he tells you everything that SHOULD BE on your mind. Stuff like sharing your candy, giving him money, giving him your gum, buying him toys, etc. And then there is Josh. Josh is entering that gauntlet of life from which no boy returns. He has become somewhat secretive and quiet. He broods. But he doesn't say a whole lot about what his little pre-pubescent mind is thinking. Well stop the press! I happened to be on the computer today and ran across this little gem. After reading it though I wonder if I need to laugh and tell him what a great writer he is, or put him in his room. :) Read on...


How to torture your little brothers


Have you ever felt angry or annoyed? Well, here’s the answer to your problem: torture your brothers! This is a fail-safe way to get you back in shape. There are several ways to torture your little brothers. Today I will explain three of them.

The first method is to do something to your brothers (like poke them). If they tell you to stop after a while, then you’re doing well. After they say, “stop” you keep doing it until they either go tell your parents or until you think you’ve done enough. If they tell your parents and you get sent to your room, start doing it again when you come out. Keep doing this till they start crying. Then you start laughing like you think it’s really funny. When they run off crying your work is done.

Another way is to take their stuff and then show it to them. When they say “give it back its mine” run around for a while then throw it out the front door. Keep doing this until you feel better or you get sent to your room 3 times. After that stop or else risk big punishment. This technique is something I’ve used many times. It works very well.

The last way to torture them is to call them a name. If one of your brothers has a name they hate people to call them start calling them that name. When they start crying, stop. When your parents ask you if you called them that name, you say yes. If you do that they will get very mad or frustrated. On the way to your room, call them the name one more time for effect.

These methods are not advisable unless you’re really angry or annoyed that day. Even then be cautious because you might get into bigger trouble than you thought. This essay was written from experience. All of the methods are genuine and do work. Happy Torturing.

What else can I say? Happy torturing!

A Most Extrodinary Talent

Greetings, greetings it is I King Bonehead returned after a brief trip to the doldrums to regale you with tales of wonder, wiffle ball, and waffles. First, my brief trip to the doldrums. I admit, I was caught up in the depressed mood the country seems to be going through at the moment despite the stimuless package but have decided that as long as I can have a Dr. Pepper and plant things in my yard I'll be ok. For any of you who don't already know, we live in a VERY small town. About 7000 I'd guess. Living in a small town brings with it some unique experiences. For example, I went to the local plant nursery today and started talking with the lady in charge. As I described what I wanted to plant in the front yard, she said "Oh that will look wonderful right next to your driveway!" Huh?
"Have you seen my house?" I asked innocently.
"Oh yeah. It's the brown one on Pinto." Insert twilight zone music now. She then made suggestions about what might look nice next to the house too. I didn't argue. And when I had a question about a certain plant, she gave me directions to her house as well as three others where I could go see what they look like. I secretly wondered if the people that live in those houses sit at home wondering why so many people show up out of the blue just to get out of their cars and gawk at their Yucca Recurvifolia.

Well, enough said for now. The family is doing wonderfully. My oldest is doing home school and therefore my wife is a certified hero. When she's not pulling her hair out. We might have to invest in Rogaine before long. He is also doing scouts, trumpet and piano lessons, and soccer. His first tournament was a lesson in abject humiliation. His team showed up and discovered they had to play the Area 51 genetic mutant team of indeterminate age and origin. They had kids with legs that were bigger than my whole kid! Ugh. He did alright though.

Parker and Alex are starting baseball and are both really good at it. Alex likes any sport that allows him to get dirty. And as for Marcus, well, he is the title of today's edition.

Every Monday we have family night which means we don't do extra curricular stuff. It's our night. And we make a big deal of it. We have an activity and a snack, a short lesson about something good and a talent. Each week one or more of our boys gets to show off a talent they have. You might be thinking, "how sweet." If so, please read more about my boys. Usually when it's talent time we go get the first aid kit and a fire extinguisher. So tonight Marcus comes up to me and wants me to watch his talent he's been practicing for family night (remember, he's 3). I say, "Ok Marcus show me what you've got". He then turns around and grabs the squirt bottle and squirts himself dead in the face. Repeatedly! He then wipes it off with a towel and says, "I'm all wet dad. Cool." Yep, that's my kid.

Well that's all the news that's fit to print so until next time if you really want to impress someone squirt yourself in the face. It'll leave em' speechless.

Travels with Llamas

You know, occasionally I get really stressed and have to remind myself that it's not the destination that matters but the journey. Journey's got me to thinking about our travels as a family. And traveling as a family brought back lots of memories. Memories of Advil, Alieve, Tylenol, Benedryl, etc.

Actually I got to looking in my files and found this great example. Enjoy.

A couple of summers ago we went on a hike with my brother and his family, which proved not only to be cursed, but quite funny– In a cursed sort of way. The idea was simple enough: Hike to a waterfall. Scott, my brother, had a GPS unit and everything. It was only a mile or so. What could possibly go wrong? We reached the beginning of the hike, consulted the GPS, and headed up the trail. And when I say “up,” I mean up. 4 sneezing adults, 8 children and various biting insects climbing a 60-degree slope. Are we having fun yet? We eventually reached a level plateau and sat down on the side of a wide dirt trail just in time to see an SUV full of people drive by leaving us in a cloud of dust. I looked at Scott. Scott looked at his GPS unit. The kids asked, “Why are those people driving up the mountain?” Cursed. Scott thought we must be over a little too far west. His idea was to cut across the mountainside and then “we’d be there in no time!” We did. (Insert various complaints and whining here). Finally, after several hundred more consultations with the mystic GPS ball, we found. . . another road. Except this one was paved and there were lots of nice houses. Then the pest control guy drove by and we asked him where the waterfall was. He laughed. This was not a good sign. He told us we needed to go back down to the bottom and try again, as we had missed the trail. Double cursed. Another mile back down. The kids took great pleasure in saluting all the people who drove by and forgot all about the evil GPS unit when they discovered a pack of Llamas standing near a parking lot. It was quite a spectacle to see 8 kids dancing around shouting “Llama Llama, we found a Llama!” To bring this story to a close, approximately 5 hours, 3.5 miles, 3 band-aids, 47 salutes, 37 GPS insults, and 6 slightly harassed Llamas later, we arrived at the place we began and discovered that we started our hike from the wrong parking lot.
Now before you all laugh and say, “that fool deserves to be cursed” thus dooming 4 more generations of my family to weirdness, let me share some “cursed family outing” survival tips:

• When roaming in the heat, take some hard candy. It helps keep you from needing a drink all the time, and it helps your children forget that they think you’re an idiot for making them come.
• ANYTIME you say to yourself “Gee, what could possibly go wrong?” pull this story out and read it. Then take some Duct tape with you. I don’t know why, but they say it fixes everything.
• If your spouse thinks you dragged them out into the middle of nowhere on another hair-brained attempt at family togetherness, tell them they’re absolutely right. (This is for shock value) Then before they have a chance to lecture you about how you can’t follow a map to the floor and how you almost have the brains God gave dirt, hand them a $50 and say “go tell someone at Dillard’s.” This will keep them quiet. Then tell them that you’ll give them another $50 if they keep the kids happy.
• Take a lot of Band-aids. They don’t work worth beans, but the kids don’t know that. And if Band-aids don’t work, tell them that suffering builds character.
• Most of all, remember to enjoy the journey. The destination is important, but how you get there makes all the difference. Life is like that you know. It seems like it’s all uphill and just when you think your making progress someone else zooms by, leaving you in the dust. You get tired, scratched up, lost, your kids whine, and sometimes there’s even a Llama or two. But as a very wise person once said, “You never know when your making a memory” so have a little more fun with life. You’ll be happier in the end.

Welcome Mack!

Another year has come and gone. And boy what a ride it was! It felt like our family crossed the finish line in a tangle of legs, nerf guns, sand and cat food but we finished. As my New Year's resolution I vow to write in this blog more often than someone else does. That should do it.

Christmas was a blast. The kids got some great toys and then went to St. George for the week so I got to play with them. Among many things, Josh got a remote controlled spy car with a video camera on it and let me tell you, there is nothing quite like the satisfaction of chasing the cat around the house from the comfort of my own bed. Gotta get me one of them! That or else find reasons to ground Josh from using it. Daily. Parker got an iClops, a really sweet microscope that projects whatever you're looking at on to a small digital screen. I looked at the stain on my levis to see what it was made out of (I still don't know but it could be paint), I looked at the stuff on the bathroom counter and now I'm not going in there anymore, and I looked at a whole bunch of other stuff. And let me say for the record that cats don't like to be subjected to microscopes! PJ also got a remote controlled helicopter and seems as how I broke mine I got to use his. Having Dad privileges is great.

We had one addition to the zoo this year (no Neish didn't have a baby). The newest member of our family is a rat. He's small, he's white, he loves to watch TV, and Parker named him Mack. Which kind of goes with the whole pet naming theme. We have a cat named Jack. Life is good. You might be wondering, "Wait a sec. You just said you have a cat. and you bought a rat? Are you nuts?"

The answer is as complex as time itself. So yes, we are nuts. The other day Parker had Mack in his lap watching TV and Jack was just sitting nearby, totally still except for the occasional twitch of the tail. I know what he was thinking. Jack was thinking "Happy Meal. To go, please." Needless to say we're careful. I was thinking about getting a dog. Hmmm...

In other news I was cleaning out our garage and found my old box of high school stuff. What a riot! I still had the year books complete with pictures that would make the Fashion Police's Hall of Fame list, my trumpet awards, ceremonial mug and I even found a video from 1988 of the Bonneville High School band! I have to say it was a lot of fun watching my carefree life, acting the fool and not having a clue about what amazing adventures lie ahead.

Help! Rabid Child!

What is it with my kids and toothpaste!? Here I am, just trying to be a good dad and help my kids brush their teeth so they don't cost me thousands in cavity repair and I end up being attacked by a toothpaste happy rabid-child.

As you know, Marcus is two, which means he is learning that it is very important that he learns everything...by doing it all himself and brushing his teeth is no exception. Our routine goes like this: I hold up the tube of Batman and Sponge Bob toothpaste and he has to choose. Tonight is Sponge Bob. He then insists on putting the toothpaste on his own brush which means that after he puts it on I have to clean off the sink, his shirt, and the floor. Then I say, "Okay Marcus, I'll start and you finish." Of course he refuses and says, "I start. You finish." This is what I wanted in the first place. (That was a little bit of psychology folks). Well, tonight as I was brushing away he kept his mouth closed which meant he built up a ton of toothpaste foam inside his mouth. After nearly a minute of good scrubbing blue foam was leaking out the sides of his mouth. Being an insightful type of father I thought maybe this would be a good time to rinse. Well, upon pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth some of the stuff flipped onto my face which made me say, "Gaa!" He laughed. I wish he wouldn't have done that. He literally exploded on me! And as I stood there covered in a fine shade of blue goo, he said, "Daddy I 'pit on you." Yeah, no kidding.

Remembering Parker and the Stupid Patrol

Chidlren do grow up fast, don't they? I mean, one moment you're taking them home from the hospital wrapped in a hospital-standard-issue blankie and the next you're taking them back to the hospital with a not-hospital-standard-issue steel ball up their nose. Sigh.

You know, when I think about parenting, I think about the look on parents' faces. I think about the smile on your wife's face when she tells you she's going to have a baby. I think about the look of panic when you both discover how much it will cost to have said baby. I think about the look of pain and revenge when your wife is delivering the baby. And then I think of the look of absolute confusion when you both get home from the hospital with your new little one and think, "Now what?"

I'm guessing that look of confusion will pretty much be permanent for the next 25 years. Frequently our kids do stuff that I just don't get. Like why kids make themselves barf. It defies logic. Let me delve into the Bonehead archives and give you an example from when Parker was several months old:

We were all in the kitchen making something when we hear Parker barf on himself. We turned around and there he sat smiling about it. Ok.... Neisha then informed me that this was the 3rd time he had done it today and she wished he would keep his big fat hands out of his mouth. Interesting. I started to watch Parker and sure enough as soon as Neisha turned around to wash out the hand towel, he quickly stuck his hand in his mouth and commenced gagging himself. I had my hands full with food and so Neisha took his hand out and said to "Stoppit!". Let the games begin! It went something like this:
Mom: Stoppit!
Parker: Blorph.
Mom: Stoppit!
Parker: Ack-hrumph
Mom: STOPPIT!
Parker: Gak' (chuckle)
Mom: KNOCK IT OFF!!
Parker: Blecch
Mom: PARKER, QUIT IT!!

Final Score: Mom 0, Parker 5 barfs. Well, Parker is now 9 and doesn't barf for fun anymore but does occasionally become the evil Dr. Vox who believes that the best way to cure a headache is to remove your head. That's a story for another day. But to finish today's title, we have taught our kids that certain words aren't good to say to each other or us. One of those words is "Stupid". We sat the kids down and told them that calling someone "stupid" is mean and not to do it. Discussion over. Or so we thought. We have a 2 year old who can speak. In psychological terms he would be known as a Parrot: A small colorful animal that has the annoying habit of repeating everything you say, especially in embarrassing public situations.

Marcus the parrot has taken this lesson to heart. Anytime he hears the word stupid, no matter what part of the house he happens to be in, will come running into the room and yell at you, "WE DON'T SAY STUPID!" One time just for fun I asked him if I could say, "Idiot" instead. His answer? "Yeah, that's a good word. You can say that Dad."

"NO" Prayers and Scary Moments in Parenting

It is time to continue this month's theme and what better way to do it than to remember a few of our more scary parenting moments!

But first, news from the parenting front... Marcus aka The Opinionator is learning to pray. I think. You see, most normal (emphasis there) 2-3 year olds are learning to speak and will copy everything you say, which makes teaching a child to pray very easy. Well here's how it goes:
"Ok Marcus, say 'Dear Heavenly Father'"
"No!"
"Say 'Thank you for my family'"
"No!"
"Say 'Please help me to sleep well'"
"No!"
"Say 'I say these things'"
"No!"
"In the name'"
"No!"
"Of Jesus Christ"
"No!"
"Amen."
"Amen!"

What the? Sometimes if I'm whispering to him what to say he will also whisper "No", which I suppose is at least a little bit respectful to God. Oh well. This comes from the same child who quotes Mr. T on a regular basis. Thanks for that A-Team DVD mom!

And now a look back in time to two of our more scary moments in parenting...

One night in 2004 I came home from work and discovered two of my children in their room sulking. This would be Parker and Alex. Parker’s favorite line is "Hey Alex I got an idea." Alex’s favorite line is "Cool!." Invariably this leads to bad things. I asked them what they had done and Parker said, "We were having fun with the toothpaste." Oh boy. Walking quietly, I reached my bedroom door and listened. I heard my wife mumbling something about our boys having the brains God gave a duck. Glad that it wasn’t me she was upset with I opened the door and saw her on the floor with a towel scrubbing at a small patch of blue on the carpet. I asked, "What's up?" She promptly handed me a towel and told me to watch where I step. Sporting a genuinely bewildered look on my face I thought, "What does she mean by that?" and then when I saw what she meant. I wished I hadn’t.
Our bedroom, our place of sanctuary had become a mural entitled, "Ode to Crest, Bubblegum flavor." It looked like they had climbed up and attached tubes of toothpaste to the blades of the ceiling fan and then turned it on "Hurricane."
Everything I looked at had fallen victim to the toothpaste bandits. My bed, the walls, curtains, dressers, computer, floor, closet, lamp, you name it and it had become blue. My wife informed me that they had only been alone for 2 minutes. I honestly did not know this kind of stuff was possible. In a matter of an hour we learned to hate the smell of bubblegum flavored Crest. The boys apologized and promised never to use toothpaste again. Super.

Back in the year 2000 we learned an important lesson: kids and cat litter are a bad combo. It was a fine day and our son was playing with his friend. We were all enjoying a nice lunch when we heard him yell, "It's raining! Whee!!" followed by what sounded curiously like, well, rain. Both of us looked at each other with that "I don't recognize that sound, do you?" sort of look. Just then we heard it again, "It's raining, whee!" and then the sound of falling rain. We knew two things at that point: One, it wasn't raining. Two, we were inside. Not good. Those two thoughts occured simultaneously to us and in one smooth movement we got up from the table and headed toward the bathroom, actually hoping that it was raining. Upon opening the door we discovered that our happy child was indeed in the middle of a rainstorm. A thin coating of Fresh Step mixed with brown hail lay everywhere. I said, "Oh crap." I couldn't resist. Well, I spent my lunch hour vacuuming and our son spent his lunch hour in the tub.

That's about it from the desk here at Bonehead Central so until next time, keep your toothpaste locked up and buy a fish.

Horror Survival Tips and Musical Marcus

Now that you've all survived the first installment of our tribute to the greatest holiday ever, I'd like to present for your spine-tingling pleasure a list of tips I've accumulated over the years of watching quality entertainment which, I am sure will help you survive any number of catastrophes including zombie invasions, cataclysmic meteor collisions, giant spiders (or ants, scorpions, roaches or women), hostile alien takeovers, having your brain harvested by a mad scientist or having the IRS audit your tax returns. But first, a little news...

Marcus is a real favorite around the house. He can always be found helping someone do something, or else climbing into the cupboards to drink Ovaltine mix. Night time is another story. Usually he just can't be found. It's a very odd thing to put your son in bed and then check on him later only to find that he's disappeared. This happens several times a week. Keeping in the spirit of Halloween it's possible he's being occasionally abducted by aliens or perhaps his bed happens to sit on a couple of intersecting ley lines and he gets transported to other parts of the house. Either way, we have to go looking for him and usually find that he has magically reappeared in someone else's bed. Occasionally we find him on the couch. Or in our bed. Or in the cupboard drinking Ovaltine mix. He's sort of like musical chairs except the chair keeps moving to a new location. Always an adventure, that one.

Now on to the heart of the post. You all know that many, many innocent people have met their demise in scary movies. What you may not know is that had those people been in possession of my little suvival guide, they might have survived to scream another scream. So without further delay here are my Horror Survival Tips. Don't be caught dead without them.

1. If you live near a field move away. 9 out of 10 alien abductions/invasions/crop circles occur in them. It might also be helpful to have a dog. Be warned however that your dog will either be eaten or vaporized. Best to get a cheap dog.

2. Never inspect a fallen meteor site. Especially if a gooey substance is oozing out of it. And really especially if that gooey substance eats your girlfriend. If you are trying to get your girlfriend eaten by a gooey substance, inspecting a fallen meteor site is not a good option because it will most likely eat you as well. And your dog.

3. Avoid fog at all costs. It may turn you inside out. It was also responsible for nearly 6000 automobile related accidents between 1981-1989 according to the NTSB. Also, 38% of motorcycle related fatalities are caused by fogging eyewear. Fog. The new evil.

4. Aliens always speak monotone english. Therefore to survive an alien invasion you should practice speaking in monotone using as little facial expression and emotion as possible. If you're having trouble with this, work with a tax accountant or CPA. *Note: Aliens try to "fit in" as much as possible before destroying earth and therefore are most likely to BE a tax accountant or CPA. If you are worried that you are talking to an alien, or that your friend, spouse, or mother-in-law might be an alien, look at their ears. They always forget to disguise them. Those wacky aliens.

5. Farmers are usually the first people to die. Right after their dogs. Sadly this is true. Farmers are a curious breed of homo-sapien. They love guns and dogs, and usually have a grudge against would be trespassers. This is a bad combo when staring into the face of a huge insect. If you are a farmer and your dog starts barking wildly only to suddenly yelp and then remain eerily silent. Send out another dog. Just to check. If it happens again, leave.

6. Atomic energy makes things grow really big. The Amazing Collossal Man and the Attack of the 50ft Woman are not fictional. They used to be a happily married couple on holiday until they went to inspect a fallen meteor site and decided to walk through the green cloud of fog and touch the oozing gooey substance. Sigh.

7. If you are using atomic energy to grow insects as a scientist, inevitably you will get into a fight with a collegue and break the glass windows, behind which lay the atomic energy injected insects. These insects will get very big and eat cattle. If, as a farmer you take your gun and go to find out why your cattle suddenly stopped mooing and discover a pile of bones covered with webbing, please don't follow the trail of webbing back to a dark cave. It's pretty obvious that it's a big spider. Trust me.

8. Atomically enhanced insects/spiders like cattle even more than they like dogs. But dogs still make a good snack. See note #1

9. Never, EVER poke the dead monster. This is a monsters' favorite trick. They learn it in monster school, usually as a child. The game is called, "Dead Monster" amazingly enough.

10. Women scream bloody murder at the sight of zombies, but are amazingly calm when they find out that their mad scientist husband digs up corpses to create said zombies. Although a common phenomenon, this is not healthy. A ground breaking new book entitled, "Mad Scientists and the Women Who Love Them" is a good place to start for those wishing to find tranquility.

11. Don't imprison your monster behind a door with a small, barred window in it because if you do, you will be choked to death when feeding it dinner. Plexiglass, electric fences, and pictures of Oprah Winfrey are good substitutes for monster imprisonment. Many Mad Scientists now lie 6ft under because they did not heed this simple safety precaution. As an interesting side note, many zombies are actually reanimated Mad Scientists which would explain the natural proclivity toward brains. Perhaps the reason women scream bloody murder at the sight of zombies is because they realize they used to be in love with them. Before they were a zombie.

12. The Army and the Air Force always have just the right invention to deal with aliens. If not, give them 20 minutes. This is a failsafe. When the military is nearby you're always covered. It is a good thing to keep the personal number of a General or two on your cell phone speed dial.

And finally, When someone says to you "You're not afraid of a little egyptian tomb, are ya?" Tell them "Yes" and get the heck out of there. This famous last line ranks right up there with, "I think it's dead. Go poke it to make sure." Please reference #9

That's all I can do. Now it's up to you to survive.

The Horror, The Horror!

It's almost time to celebrate the Boneheads' favorite holiday and so to kick off the season I have included some horrifyingly gruesome pictures which are sure to cause many of you to scream in mortal terror, either from the scary thought that your parents dressed like this, or from the spine-tingling realization that you dressed like this and managed to survive.

This picture is how to get your butt kicked at the golf course. The "all purpose jumpsuit" is, according to the description, equally appropriate for playing golf or simply relaxing around the house. Personally, I can't see wearing this unless you happen to be relaxing around your cell in D-block.

The little kid picture is how to get your butt kicked in elementary school. Now that I'm a father, I know why I got my butt kicked in elementary school. I'll bet that kid has his name engraved on that belt. Like I did. Stupid belt. At least the kids knew who they were beating up.

The second picture is how to get your butt kicked in high school. I got my butt kicked in high school because I was still wearing that crap from elementary school. This kid looks like he's pretending to be a cop who is pretending to be a pimp that everyone knows is really an undercover cop. Who is pretending to be 15.

Our next frightening addition is a picture of how to get your butt kicked in a meeting. If you wear this suit and don't sell used cars for a living, I believe you can be fined and face serious repercussions, up to and including termination. Or imprisonment, in which case you'd be forced to wear that orange jumpsuit.

What do I say to this next one? It's how to get your butt kicked every day up to and including St. Patricks day. I don't believe that color exists in nature. There is NO excuse for wearing either of these ensembles. Ever. Not even if it's "Dress like a 70's leprechaun pimp day."

The next picture is how to get your butt kicked pretty much anywhere. If you look at that picture quickly, it looks like a young Bob Saget relaxing with his "friend" in his new Terry cloth ensemble. What I want to know is who uses coffee cups that match their clothes?

Well, that's about all I can handle for one day. Stay tuned for more strange and frightening goings-on from the desk here at Bonehead Central!

The Law

I have recently discovered a new Law. The impact this law has is enormous and should be considered in the same realm as the laws of physics and gravity. If you have children you will undoubtedly be effected by this law though you may not know that it has a name.

The law I'm referring to is the Law of Diminishing Utencils. In order to understand how this law works, let me explain first Johnson's First Law of Excessive Utencil Usage which states: A child will use utencils in direct porportion to the number of utencils owned multipled by 5. Allow me to explain...

You buy utencils enough to service 12 people. That's 12 spoons, 12 larger spoons, 12 forks, 12 larger forks, and 12 knives, plus 12 bowls, and 12 plates. That's 84 pieces of serving hardware. Right. Add to that enough cups to serve 23 people and you have 107 total pieces of serving hardware. Now, add to the equation 4 children. Given the current number of serving pieces, that's 29.75pieces of silverware/cups/plates etc. per child. A parent with children will tell you that 26.75 pieces of silverware/cups/plates per child is not enough. Why?

I once did an experiment at my house to determine the answer to that question. At 8am all the silverware was in the drawer and all the cups and bowls, etc. were in the cupboard. (this was when we had 83 pieces of silverware, more on that later). For Breakfast, the kids all ate cereal. Normally this would be 4 spoons, 4 bowls, 4 cups right? Wrong. Marcus used two spoons and the other kids didn't use their spoons at all but threw them in the sink anyway so technically that counted as being used. Then they all went for seconds, but realizing they had already put their bowls and spoons and cups in the sink got more. Add to that 1 more cup. 4 to be used for milk, and one more for Parker who doesn't like to mix milk and water. Breakfast total: 26.

Between 8 and 12, another 9 cups went in the sink because each child got two drinks and Parker had 3: 2 waters, one milk. Lunch time brought out 5 plates, 4 forks, and 4 cups. Marcus knocked his first plate on the ground. Snack/Lunch Total: 23

At some point between 12 and 5pm the last 5 cups got used along with 6 "other" cups. At our house, "other" could mean mugs, thermos's, bowls, funnels, jars, anything that can hold liquid. 8 more plates were used because they all ate chicken nuggets at snack time and chips, and then had more plates later when they wanted more nuggets. Can't use the old one cause it's dirty right?

And finally at dinner time at another 4 of everything. By this time the dishwasher was done so the boys happily used another 6 or 7 cups getting drinks of water (and milk) before bed. Evening Totals: 46

Grand Total: 95

"But wait!" you say. "95 is less than 107. That should be enough." Ah, but you forget my young padowan, the Law of Diminishing Utencils! This law states: The amount of utencils owned will decrease at an increased rate in correlation to the number of children living in the home. We have 4. That means that on any given day, we will lose 13 pieces utencils. For example, yesterday I loaded the dishwasher with nearly 20 forks. After they were clean, I put them back into the drawer. All 20 of them (remember that number). A few hours later I wanted a fork, opened the drawer and there were two forks. Just two. I looked in the sink. No forks. I looked in the dishwasher. No forks. I asked my 4 children, "Have you guys used any forks?" This is what they said:
Josh: "Parker used some."
Parker: "No I didn't! You did!"
Josh: "No I didn't Parker, you used one to stab ants."
Parker "That was Alex!"
Alex: "It was not, it was a beetle."
Josh: "Well Parker still used some"
Parker: "Yeah, to eat chicken nuggets"
Marcus: "I like forks! Can I have skittles?"

It kind of deteriorated form there so I left the room and continued my search. I did manage to find some here and there and by the end of the day we managed to scrape enough together to have dinner. So the morale of this story is to remember to support the Global Warming movement and buy lots of paper plates and plastic utencils.

The PTG and the Crux of Therapy

Well, it's been a great few weeks here at the Bonehead Farm. We recently went to the DCI performance in Ogden, UT and for those of you not familiar with it I've included a link to a video you can watch. The boys were mesmerized for nearly 3 hours and I think it's safe to say that they all want to play brass or percussion instruments. Marcus especially liked the performances and vomited profuse amounts of praise. Ahem.

Speaking of Marcus, he has learned how to be polite when saying "No" (which happens a lot). Now, instead of just yelling "NO!" he yells, "No Sir!" Well, it ain't perfect but what're ya gonna do? He is learning new words everyday. Yesterday's word was "Tremendous." I took a big bite of apple in front of him and he yelled "Wow! That was tremendous!" Not sure where he learned it, but ok we can deal with that. Marcus has also entered the PTG, that mystical path which a young man must travel before reaching the noble position of "big boy" at the Johnson house. The PTG, or Potty Training Gauntlet has always held a place of trepidation and anxiety at our house and now that we're in it, there's no going back. Ugh. Thankfully he's learning fast although he hasn't quite figured out what to do with poo when it comes around. Usually he'll come and ask us which, as you might guess is the makings for a fecal fiasco.

The other boys are doing great as you can see from the pix. They are enjoying every last second of summer on the trampoline and digging in our huge pile of dirt which they have named "Skull Mountain" after digging a couple of holes in one side that eerily resemble a real skeleton head. BTW, how much dirt do you put in a grave? A skele-ton. Get it? I made that up last night.

The last part of today's title deals with what I do. You learn in grad school many of the intricate processes that combine to create change in a persons' life. A person comes in at a point of conflict in their life and our job is to help them get past it, to make the needed change in order to have a more fulfilling future. In layman's terms we sell change. But the path is sometimes delicate and hard to follow. There are times when it isn't clear where to go or what to say. Therefore I have included this short video from Bob Newhart that demonstrates in a clear manner what so many therapists long to say to their clients. Follow the link here: http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYLMTvxOaeE

And that is the news from Bonehead Central so until next time, keep smiling. People will wonder what you're up to.

Learning From Experience

Mark Twain once said, "Only take from an experience what value there is in it. A cat who sits on a hot stove will never sit on a hot stove again. But he won't sit on a cold one either." So here is the situation: 3 of my children-Larry, Curly, and Moe went swimming at the local pool. It is about two miles away from our home. Neisha said, "I'll pick you up here at 2pm." At 1:30 they decide they are tired of swimming and figure they'll just walk home. No problem, except they have one pair of shoes between the 3 of them. So off they go down the road in 90 degree weather. They discovered two very important things: First, that the sun makes cement very hot. Second, that it is a lot further to walk somewhere than to drive. By the time we found them Josh was carrying Alex and Parker was walking on his tip toes and all of them had blisters on their feet. Poor kids. 

That was the hot stove. Lesson learned, right? Wrong. Not a week later two boys, whose names shall remain un-named (ahem) go to the pool and were told, "DO NOT LEAVE THE POOL UNTIL I COME GET YOU AT 2pm. IT IS NOW 1pm." That is some pretty clear communication. So at 1:40 the two un-named boys leave the pool and come to my office. But they don't come IN to the office they just stand outside in the parking lot and hop up and down on one foot because it is very hot outside and they are sharing one pair of shoes. sigh. 

What would Mark Twain say about those two I wonder? 

In the home front news, we finished putting the trampoline into the ground and finished putting a sprinkler system in the front yard. We've built a deck, stained it, and have more big plans in store. I have to thank Doug for helping me make sense of deck plans and for taking time out of his weekend to boil out in the sun while I learned how to aim a nail gun. And I have to thank my own Dad for helping me make sense of electricity when it came to wiring the sprinkling system. Dads are the greatest thing in the world. Anyone who is reading this should go right out and purchase their father a gift card to the Home Depot or Lowes. :)

Well that's the latest update from the desk here at Bonehead Central so until next time keep your shoes on. 

Sayon-aura and the Mud Brothers

Once again, hello to all of our Bonehead Readers across the land of the free, and the home of the extremely dirty Johnson boys who have decided that since we don't have a pool, having dirt to swim in is the next best thing. It was so great to hear them: "Hey Parker, let's go roll in the dirt!"
"Yeah, let's get the dirtiest of all."
"I can dirtier than that!"
"No way! I can put dirt in my hair!"
"Cool! I want to try!"

I've included a pic to prove this. And yes, it is true that our home is still mostly dirt outside but that is quickly changing. We've started putting in a sprinkling system and will be putting in sod within the month.

In other house news, Neisha has tackled the building of a block wall around the in-ground trampoline and is having a lot of fun with it. She's doing a fine job of it too. Check out the pic!

And now for a little check-in with the Johnson Boys...

Josh continues to amaze us with his love for life and his ability to achieve. He received the Presidential Fitness award in school, the only one in his class. This means that he needed to be above the 85% in all of the categories. He even ran a 6 minute mile! He also qualified for the gifted program at the middle school and is participating in a special summer school program for those kids. Weird. He put summer school and excited in the same sentence.

Parker has been enjoying quite a bit of sports related success too. He won the National Fitness award and was one of just a handful of kids who did it. And he's had a great time playing baseball and in fact his team took first place in his bracket and they all got a big trophy. He also participated in field day for his school. He was a part of a four-man 400 meter relay. Out of 20 teams his took first and Parker was very instrumental in that win by running the first leg faster than anyone else.
After the race they received 1st place ribbons and as Parker got on the bus to go back to school he (in total humility) waggled his ribbon back and forth and said, "Who wants to sit by me?" Later he told me, "Five girls raised their hand, Dad. And Taylor, she raised her hand but she didn't get to sit by me. But Alexa, she raised her hand and she got to sit by me." What a kid.
One other Parkerism: The other day Neisha got in the car to go to church and when he smelled her perfume he said, "Mom what are you wearing?"
"It's just my natural aura," she replied.
"Well then wear less of it," he said.

Alex is just enjoying the heck out of life. He and I recently went to Indiana for a week and while there he got to go the Indianapolis Speedway to watch the Indy 500 cars run their qualifying laps, and get REALLY close to a lion at the Indianapolis Zoo. And what did he say to the lion?
"Here Lion lion. Come and eat me, I've got a nice fresh leg here for you. And look at this nice head, lots of tasty meat. C'mon Mr. Lion, I've got ketchup and mustard and everything! Look at that nice arm!" I have the video. The people around us just stared at him. Then they stared at me. I laughed and I'm sure they thought I was a very sick parent.

Marcus is still a wonderfully independent and capable little guy, and sometimes as weird as a three-dollar bill. Last night when I went in to tell him goodnight he reached up and pulled my head down onto his chest in a hug. It was very cute. After a couple of minutes of total silence, I felt his little hand reach down, grab my nose a little bit, and then I hear "munch munch munch." He ate my nose! We weren't even playing a game. The things that go on inside his head, I tell you.

Well, that's about it for this edition so until next time, keep your hose handy.

Home Run

Well, it's nearly complete. All that's left is to put up a wall around the house and we're golden. Here are the latest batch of pics. If you take a look, you'll see a before and after shot of the land. Pretty neat..

The Law of New Carpet

There is a law irrevocably decreed before Heaven which states: Within a week of purchasing new carpet, your children will destroy it. Amen.

Truly we were hoping that we had somehow escaped the wrath of the carpet gods which take great delight in orchestrating the downfall of newly installed carpets all across the country. But no. Not us. We are Johnsons which translates into "Ruin the heck out of it!" if you happen to be a carpet god. Now the powers that be cannot ruin the carpet on their own so they usually contract with smallish type children to do the actual dirty work. Enter Marcus. 

Marcus is just starting to get curious and is pretty strong for his size and likes to carry things around the house (Note: those three things are very bad if they occur in the same sentence). So yesterday morning as my wife was sleeping peacefully, Marcus Curious spied the large syrup refill bottle and decided that it would be fun to carry it around for a while. After reaching his bedroom he began to get curious about whether or not he could open it. The answer to that question, unfortunately was yes. I believe it was about here that the carpet gods put the thought into his mind to do a quick gravity check on the syrup. Sigh. Then, with the carpet covered with a quart of syrup the carpet gods suggested to Marcus's mind that it might be fun to sort of throw the syrup around the room as though he were tied to a mechanical bull. I'm so glad I wasn't home. 

Later that day, after the syrup had been cleaned and the smell of maple syrup no longer hung in the air like a thick fog, the carpet gods suggested to Marcus that shampoo would be a much better thing to pour on carpet because it is pink and bubbly. 

Suffice it to say, Marcus is still alive albeit barely and the carpet--well, the carpet is not new anymore. The carpet gods have once again succeeded in their duty. As for the rest of us, Alex is enjoying baseball, Josh is learning about ebay, and Parker is enjoying stumping around with one leg stuck into a thick, cardboard poster tube. He calls it his "wooden-leg named 'Smith'". 

That's all the news from the desk here at Bonehead Central, so until next time consider tile. 

Home Sweet Home

Well, it's done. We're in. Game over, man. Our ship has finally arrived. And so on, and so on. Our home is nearly complete and although getting from the front door to the kitchen is like a maze, we are totally happy about it.

You know, a while back I wrote about what I learned from moving. Back then this is what I said:

#1 Don't.

#2 If you absolutely must move, don't take your cat.

#3 Especially if it stinks.

#4 When you tell the people who come to help pack the truck "just make it fit", some wonderful surprises are going to come about. I still can't figure out how to put my computer desk back together.

#5 Guys who move refrigerators don't communicate very well.

#6 Don't have a child the week before.

#7 Being stuck in a van with 4 young children and a nervous mother-in-law may require therapy.

I would like to offer you one piece of moving advice. Pianos are evil. I also want to discover the correlation between being a Mormon and owning a 5000lb. piano. I'm not sure why it is, but it seems to be a hidden doctrine that says "In order to make it to heaven you must own an insanely heavy piano that was owned by someone who lived a long time ago and who, consequently, bought the piano from a company that handmade their pianos using steel, led, and granite. Said piano must have enough sentimental value to keep you from making the rational decision to buy a dog instead." The people that helped us move discovered Saturday that "well-built" is hidden code for "this piano is your worst nightmare". Suffice it to say, the piano is still alive, Neisha is happy, and the next Elders Quorum activity will be held at the Chiropractor's office.

Well now, that WAS enlightening! Even so, I have been blessed to learn a few more gems of wisdom that I would like to share...

To start, let me give you an update on the insanely heavy piano or as we (the movers) affectionately named it "The Herninator". It truly has become the stuff of legend. Several people who helped us move came inside, saw it growling in the corner and said "I've heard about this piano." I'm telling you, it did not want to be moved. I don't know how it managed it, but it made itself heavier and wider and I think it even bit someone. But 3 hours later the Herninator was wrestled into its final resting place (don't worry it's in the house) and Neisha played Hymns to pacify it. As for the rest of what I learned:

#8 Unpacking toys which have been gone for 6 months is like Christmas.

#9 Do it twice a year and you won't have to buy Christmas presents ever again.

#10 Never trust someone to move your fridge who's favorite phrase is, "Did I just hit something?"

#11 Hiring someone to fix drywall is expensive.

Really the move went fine. Marcus has been way excited to get boxes in his room even though it's only food storage. they're "his" boxes and that makes them great. And while we're on the topic of food storage let me just say that creating a bed frame out of buckets of wheat will make your bed over 5 ft. tall. We don't even need to kneel down to say our prayers!

This next week we'll finish up the house. Stucco, sidewalk, driveway, and then I get to start landscaping! That's about it from the desk here at Bonehead Central so until next time, encourage your kids to play the flute!

Dad Wisdom and Boogers

Shoot, with a title like that I can't go wrong! I have come to the conclusion that disgusting as they may be, boogers attract an awful lot of attention. I suppose you can make them sound less gross by calling them "bogeys" like some little wizard children, or you could make the whole matter worse by calling them "nose poops" like bad little wizard children. Either way, they're here to stay and tonight at the Johnson household is no exception.
Enter Marcus, our extremely-independent-in-an-obnoxious-sort-of-way 2 year old. We were resting after a great game of tickle monster, in which mom or dad chase down screaming children, tickle them, then throw them in jail. Anyway, Marcus sticks his finger in his nose, pulls out a bogey and offers it to me. "No thanks" I say, "I don't want it." So without another word he put it back into his nose. Well you know what they say; "One in the nose is worth two on the floor". Or something like that.
The other bit of news comes from a couple conversations I've had with my kids in the past. As all parents know, kids ask a lot of questions. And more often than not, the answer is far more complicated than we'd care to discuss. It is this quandry that gives men the inspiration to fabricate some of the greatest answers of all time, or as I like to put it: Dad Wisdom. I have two that I will share with you and invite you to send me some of your best wisdom too. The first comes out of a conversation I had with Alex a couple of years ago when he asked the question: "Why don't people just bury dead people in their backyards?" Well the answer would have been quite complicated. How do you explain Cemetary's and respect, and a quiet place of honor and reflection and all that mimble wimble? So I said "Because it would be too hard to put in a sprinkler system with all those dead people in the way." Perfect sense. The other happened with Parker and to be honest I don't even remember saying it but the fact that he did makes it even better. He reminded me that once upon a time he'd asked me how I got nose hair. I didn't remember. "And then", he said "you said that one time you sneaked up to a cow and sniffed really hard and the hair came off the cow and got stuck there." Wow. I don't remember saying that but I sure hope I did. That's a great one!
That's about it from the desk here at Bonehead Central so until next time, be wise.

T.O.F.U.

T.O.F.U. There have been many things in this world which are unexplainable despite our best attempts to do so. Bigfoot, for example has remained a complete mystery even though you can buy real Bigfoot prints on ebay or Bigfoot hair at “Jenkins’ Genuine Mysterious Artifacts and Fish Bait Shop.” Or there is the unexplainable mystery of why people call a car with stuff being transported in it a “shipment” when a ship with stuff being transported in it is called “cargo”.

Be that as it may, there is another yet unexplainable phenomenon in our society which has defied expert’s best attempts to classify it as belonging anywhere on the table of the elements. I’m referring of course to tofu. I have done my own research on the stuff and while not complete should give you enough information to go on. First, tofu is made of a secret governmental test material originally designed to be an adhesive/accelerator for C4 explosives. In fact, in some of the early episodes of “The A-Team” you can catch glimpses of Mr. T eating some of the explosives. However, through lack of funding tofu became basically an edible form of playdoh. Second, tofu comes in a variety of shapes, all of which look curiously like they were made using playdoh tools. Third, it tastes a lot like playdoh. (It is a little known fact that the Playdoh company actually wanted to call their product ‘Doh-fu’). Fourth, it’s used as a substitute for most meats, sweets, fish, and spackle and the winner the National Vegan “Edible Non-Animal Food of the Year” award, edging out wheat grass and olive loaf by a mere six votes!
As I stated before, tofu comes in a variety of shapes and flavors, but there is one tofu creation which is just plain wrong: Tofurkey. Sick, sick, sick. I was introduced to this food sensation by a coworker who is Vegan. This is not to be confused with Vulcan, although the similarities are quite astounding. So what is it? You’re not going to believe this. It is basically spice injected tofu that has been molded to resemble a turkey; legs, gizzard and all. It’s even color coded so you can have your preference of light tofurkey, I mean moldable goo, or dark moldable goo. Doesn’t that sound swell? And for dessert you can have tofumpkin pie! Same great goo, different shape! She wants me to try some tofookies next week. Well that’s about it from the desk here at Bonehead Central so until next time don’t sneeze when you eat tofu. It’s not pretty.

Introduction

As I looked up the definition to “Bonehead” I was struck by the fact that the word showed up in 1909. I’ve done a fair amount of family ancestry and I’ve never found anyone in my line that knew Webster. Guess I’ll have to check into my wife’s line. In any case, coming up with a title for this book took some thinking. And as you can see, it didn’t take very much.
The Bonehead News started out in 1999 as a family newsletter, outlining life in the great state of New Hampshire. From there it just sort of morphed into a compilation of weirdness that chronicles the life of two parents raising four aliens and trying to pretend that we are normal when we go out to eat.
Seriously, being a parent has been the greatest joy of my life. It has been wisely said that the most important work we will ever do will be within the walls of our own homes, and that has proven to be true over and over again. It is especially true when your children discover where mommy hides her lipstick and they paint pictures for you on the walls and on the baby, who, after being assailed by “Mocha Freeze” and “Raisin Berry” looks like some sort of freaky circus leprechaun. I’m not exactly sure that’s what President Lee meant but hey; when you’re right you’re right.
Being a parent is hard work. When my wife and I got married in 1995 we had no idea how much work went in to being a parent, nor did we know the joy that children could bring to our lives. I can honestly say that my greatest happiness has come from hearing the word “Dad”. Whether it’s “Dad will you read me a story?” or “Dad do you want to play a game with me” or “Dad do you want to go to the store and get candy?” I never tire of hearing that word. I know there will come a time when my kids will be embarrassed to admit that they’re related to me so I want to make sure that I never turn down an opportunity to be with them while they are young. That’s not to say that I don’t feel other things when I hear the word “Dad”. For instance, when I hear “Dad, Marcus (the baby) is throwing cat litter again”, I feel panicked and when I hear “Dad remember that nice cabinet that you built for mom?” I feel a sudden spike of father angst. Sometimes my kids play jokes on me, just to see what I’ll do. They think its great fun. Like the time they came running around the side of the house yelling to me that someone had thrown a baseball at our van and cracked the windshield. They watched me take off running full tilt toward the front of the house with absolute glee. Once I saw the fake baseball stuck to the windshield I knew I’d been shanghaied and my 5 year old said, “Wow Dad, you run really fast.” That day I felt angry. And I felt that someday revenge would be mine… (Insert evil laugh here)
What follows is not a story, nor is it book of sagely advice from a wizened father unless you’d consider “Lessons I’ve learned from scary movies” or “Feeding your baby is like chasing a greased pig” sagely. No, It is simply a collection of tales about my unusual family and the importance of having fun with life.