Sunday, October 4, 2009

The Pink Bobbett

Abigail is a loquacious little charmer. Among her repertoire of complete sentences are: "Hi, Lil'lin!", "I found the cat!", "I want to go Gramma's house again", and "No eat the feet! They feet, not food!" It's really a thrill to see her communicate, and grow.

We can't quite get her to say "pink blanket", though. Oh, she can say "blanket" with such clarity you might think she were much older than two, but "pink blanket" infallibly deteriorates to "Pink Bobbett". You see, Pink Bobbett is the name of her most-favorite-above-all-things-in-this-world blanket.

And more importantly, Pink Bobbett is a member of the family.

I should explain...

One evening, we sang Here We Are, Together with our family, where Abigail's job is to point at each member of the family so we can sing their names. It went something like this:

...Here we are together with our family. There's Mommy and Lillian and Abigail and Pink Bobbett, too...

... Oh, and Daddy. Here we are together with our family.

One other day, Delores tells Abigail she is a princess, and then asks, "Is Lillian a princess?"

"A huh, and Pink Bobbett a princess too!" came the reply.

On yet another day...

"Abigail's cold. Lil'lin's cold. Pink Bobbett's cold!"

What could be more fun than being the father of two delightful girls...

And one scrap of cuddly personified fabric.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Bachelor of the Month

Delores spent the week in Provo to enjoy her family, a little extra help with the kids, and to give me some uninterrupted time to work on my thesis. That leaves me reminiscing on how remarkably dull life was as a bachelor.

To spice things up, I decided to prepare a small, gourmet meal, which consisted of two turkey franks in a pot of boiling water. With an early pre-winter chill starting to settle in the valley, I warmed my hands a moment over the stove, and then settled myself in a basement couch to work on my thesis.

Forty-five minutes later (yup, a whole forty-five minutes) I smell a musty smoke smell in the air and thought, I'll bet that's the last barbecue of the summer... wait.... Is my house on fire?

I sprinted upstairs to find my turkey franks, black and brittle and billowing smoke all through the house.

I think that warrants an embarrased Idiot Bachelor of the Month award, eh?