Bottlecaps: THE BOY

Foto Friday: Part Two

The second part of a first-ever two-part Foto Friday.

(First part is in next blog down.)

A little weird symbolism going on here.

Playing with his birthday present that I put together this week. Only two months after his birthday.

An old standby returns: The playground photos.

Where's Waldo?

The boy loves his swing.

This was almost the home-run photo. I'm gonna have to go back to the park and try it again. A little better focus and I'll have it.

Oddly, this one was much easier to get.

Couldn't decide: This photo?

Or this photo? You get them both.

Sneaky.

Have a good weekend, everybody.

Jun 18, 2010 1:16:05 PM | THE BOY

Foto Friday: Part One

Here's the first part of a first-ever two-part Foto Friday:

A boy with a rock needing a place to throw it.

The boy perfects his favorite pose.

This one, he's gonna be a good hiker.

Just thought this was neat.

The boy, before his haircut.

The boy, after his haircut.

"Yes, my haircut was traumatizing. But have a good weekend, everybody."

Jun 18, 2010 12:53:00 PM | THE BOY

Foto Friday

Howdy. Desperately trying to get some things done today while I'm motivated.

But … it's been awhile since a Foto Friday. Here's a quick one.

This is the boy on the first day of his parochial preschool in early September.
A young man full of hope.

And here he is on the last day of parochial preschool in late May.
Note the 1000-yard stare.

Up in Starrville with Grandma.

For now, the "tractor" is more his speed.

Who's driving here?

Have a good weekend, everybody.

(This is the first and probably last wearing of this shirt. Seriously. I don't know why chocolate milk stains worse than axle grease. And I don't know why they even bother making white shirts for small children.)

Jun 4, 2010 12:07:49 PM | THE BOY

The boy, in his own words

The boy continues to pick up the language.

On Friday, after a particularly brain-frying drive through the pre-Memorial Day Austin traffic, the boy began to repeat a phrase he learned from me:

"What the hell is that?"

It is hard — for three years, Shannon and I could say anything in front of the boy — but I am getting better at not cursing in front of my child.

But me in traffic is a different story. I can hardly contain myself. And the phrase "what the hell?" is a deep part of my subconscious lingo. I learned it in the Corps at A&M and use it reflexively.

So, it's a tough problem. To begin with, hearing a 3-year-old ask earnestly "What the hell is that?" is funny, but you must not laugh.

And we must encourage him to talk, and can't really discourage him from saying something.

So far, I've been ignoring it. I hope that works.

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The chorus in Townes Van Zandt's song "Pancho and Lefty" goes like this (in some recordings):

"All the federales say, they could have had him any day, they only let him go so long, out of kindness, I suppose."

This is the version I have been singing to the boy. On weekends, when I put him to bed and sometimes during the week to just calm him down, I sing "Pancho and Lefty."

(This started when he was first born, and I would get up with him in the middle of the night. I realized I didn't know any children's songs, so I would sing him the songs I could remember the words to without musical accompaniment. My early stable of songs was: "Pancho and Lefty," "Me and Bobby McGee," "Folsom Prison Blues" and "London Homesick Blues." We eventually settled on "Me and Bobby McGee," though he has since decided he is too grown-up for that song.)

Recently, we have heard Willie and Merle Haggard's cover of "Pancho and Lefty" more often than usual.

Their chorus goes like this:

"All the federales say, they could have had him any day, they only let him slip away, out of kindness, I suppose."

I guess the "slip away" emphasizes outlaw-on-the-run theme. I don't know.

But on Sunday afternoon, I was singing "Pancho and Lefty" to the boy. I had gotten through the first two verses and was finishing up the chorus when he started getting upset with me, yelling something like "go sooo onnn, go sooo oonnn!"

It was only when I started the song over that I realized what had happened. I was not singing the chorus correctly. I had said "slip away" instead of "go so long" and THE BOY WAS TELLING ME I HAD IT WRONG.

Now keep in mind, this is a kid whose first instinct is to stand in front of the fridge and grunt when he wants chocolate milk. Eventually, when we ignore him, he will ask for chocolate milk correctly, but we are not talking about a kid who has a firm grasp of the language.

Or does he? The boy not only knows the song, not only knows how it goes, but gets upset when I substitute a few words from what he expects.

Crazy kid. He is one musical child.

Jun 1, 2010 10:26:49 PM | THE BOY

Foto Friday

Before we get to the boy, it's the appropriate time to honor the 10-year anniversary of a valued contributor to the Thomas household:

Yes, these sunglasses are a decade old. I am sure of that because I bought them in the Houston airport while I was drunkenly waiting seven hours for a flight to St. Petersburg, Fla. Now, I don't fly very often, so I remember that was May 2000.

I missed my connecting flight. I went to the desk and they said they could fit me on the next flight in about 2 hours. So I went to the bar and had some $4.25 Corona beers and waited. Then they told me it would be another 2 hours. So I went to the bar and had more beer and waited. Then they told me it would be another 2 hours …

Because I was pretty much feeling no pain already, I decided I should walk around for awhile rather than drink in the little bar for another 2 hours.

I found a sunglasses stand, and I reasoned that because I was going to Florida, I needed this pair of $60 sunglasses. Then I went back and drank more beer. Fortunately, they did let me on the plane that night, but it was touch-and-go for a minute there.

Those of you who believe in cheap sunglasses might think $60 is an extravagant sum, but if you break it down, these sunglasses have cost me about 1.65 cents a day. And they're getting cheaper all the time.

If you think a decade is a long time to have a pair of sunglasses, well, I ain't one to quit on something just on account of a little age. And, believe it or not, they are not the oldest pair of sunglasses I have.

I have a pair of Vuarnet sunglasses that have looked ridiculous on me since I got them in high school. They got their most use when I was the weedeater expert for WTA Maintenance in College Station for a summer and they were my "safety goggles" and hangover disguise.

I also have a pair of mirrored Gargoyle sunglasses ("Terminator") that I got in high school that now make me look like Dale Earnhardt's bloated evil twin. I won't be wearing them anytime soon. In fact, I am absolutely positive that in September 2020, my oldest boy will wear them to junior high and they will be immediately lost or stolen. Some punk-ass kid will be wandering around Austin in my antique sunglasses.

By contrast, the nameless sunglasses above are positively youthful and modest. Happy anniversary, Houston airport sunglasses, let's go for another decade.

And now, the boy.

Here we are at Barbecue Friday last week.

Some Friday he eats his barbecue like a champ. Other times, it's just Potato Chip Friday for him. And there's no predicting it. Last week? He ate all his sausage, then most of mine, but wouldn't touch the brisket.

Damn, I'm hungry. We'll be having Barbecue Friday in about 2 hours as I type this.

When Shannon asked me to find a photo of San Antonio-based Grandma and the boy, I realized we didn't have but a few. We actually have more photos of the boy and the main cat than we do of the boy with Grandma. So last weekend I took my camera to San Antonio to try and fix that.

Next time, maybe I'll get one in focus. But, it's a good start.

Have a good weekend, everybody.

May 14, 2010 8:47:05 AM | THE BOY

Foto Friday

A quick 10 fotos from the week:

We played hooky from school on Wednesday and went to Zilker Park. The boy looks impressive here, but he gave up immediately after I took the photo.

On board the Zilker Zephyr with a bribe to sit quietly until the train takes off. (Didn't work for long.)

The boy, upon figuring out the train was actually going to go somewhere.

Into the wind.

I wanted him to pose for a victorious post-ride photo. No, he bailed out.

On the playscape.

Down the slide.

That's the boy, in the middle.

Have a good weekend, everybody.

I mean it. Adios, y'all.

May 7, 2010 12:46:17 PM | THE BOY

A little brother

" … and that's his penis."

Wait … what?

Shannon and I had been at the place-where-you-get-sonograms, hoping for the good health of the baby I hadn't told you about, as well as confirmation that it was a little girl.

Shannon knew it was a girl. But why settle for one mother's intuition when we had covey of old wives? Shannon had been remarkably ill throughout the pregnancy, a sure sign of a girl.

I knew it was a girl. And (this is important to note), I was very cool with that. A little apprehensive about learning to care for a new species, but very cool with that. Both grandmothers knew it was a girl. My sister knew it was a girl. But, there, at the doctor's office, the doctor/nurse/assistant holding the sonogram wand just hadn't gotten the memo …

" … and that's his penis."

"You're shitting me," Shannon told her. This was, probably, substantially less maternal than the woman with the wand was used to, but she didn't lose a step.

"Well, the scrotum hasn't descended from the abdomen yet, but that sure looks like a penis to me."

And so it did.

I even have one of those sonogram-pseudo-photos — with the black background and random blobs of gray that are supposed to convince me that there's really a child in there. In the photo, the new boy is, apparently, mooning us and there's a computer-generated arrow pointing to his peeper.

I'm saving that one for the wedding.

You know, I can't say that I wasn't a little choked up. Two little boys. The boy and his little brother. Shannon and I were in the car and she leaned forward, lowered her voice to imitate me and said "Now boys …"

Yeah. I like the sound of that.

Little brother (I don't know how I will call the boy and the new boy on the blog yet … perhaps I will nickname them … Ezekiel and Jebediah, or something like that) … little brother is expected to join us on September 12.

You see, I told you it was gonna be a big week.

And I hadn't even gotten to reporting on the boy's (original recipe) potty training and his first breakthrough.

September 12th. It's a long way off, it seems. And then, very suddenly I know, it's right around the corner.

Here's hoping everything goes well. And maybe I get a little yardwork done before little brother shows up.

But … right now … right this moment … I am a happy man.

Apr 21, 2010 10:11:01 PM | THE BOY

Foto Friday

I know, I know. I haven't had anything enlightening, controversial, touching or even funny to say in weeks and weeks.

Even though I am updating my blog (ahem … everybody), I've been mostly filling it with general drivel and photos of the boy.

On the other hand, photos of the boy are what some of my most loyal readers want (hi mom!). And so …

Over the weekend, Bullworker and I built a sandbox for the boy. Well, technically, he built the sandbox before he and Grandma came to visit. And then he assembled it. And then he bought the sand.

But I put the sand in the sandbox, so I had something to do with it.

The boy, on the other hand, works hard at getting sand out of the sandbox. I guess this is some sort of metaphor or something: Grandpa builds sandbox, Dad fills sandbox, Boy casts sand into the wide world. I don't know, somebody write me a parable based on this theme and I'll buy you a beer. And then we can send it to Reader's Digest and make a few hundred bucks. Give it a religious theme and we can sell it to Guideposts.

For now, the sand, the boy and the Bullworker are still comfortably inside the box.

We (and by we, I mean mostly Bullworker) also installed a swing. This may be one of the finest events in the boy's 3 years.

Except, of course, for the fact that he has learned to undress himself. I can be sitting here at the computer (like I am this moment) and he'll come up to me and say "Hi!" And I'll look over and he'll be totally naked. "Where are your clothes?" I ask. He just looks at me like the question doesn't have a bit of relevance.

Have a good weekend, everybody.

Apr 16, 2010 7:37:36 AM | THE BOY

Foto Friday

OK, we are still pressed for time in the House of Illin', so here is a Foto Friday with less-carefully-scripted comments …

Hey baby … wanna go for a ride?

Not really sure about this flower thing.

Yes, more flowers.

Flowers …

Sunset.

Aunt Julie displays that effortless Thomas charm that makes us such people-persons.

The boy got tons of birthday presents. All he cared about was these plastic yard tools. Once he opened them, it was done. It. Was. Done. He had to go outside and work in the dirt. No other gifts were to be acknowledged, opened or even glanced at. Must. Dig. Dirt.