Da Boyz Are Back In Town
According to legend, one assigns ones worries to the Guatemalan Worry People, places the Worry People under the pillow, and awakens the next morning to find they have taken the worries away. I possess entire regiments of Worry People. I’m sure they are going to start working any time now. (Note: These might more properly be termed Guatemalan Worry Dolls. No actual Guatemalans were harmed in the manufacture of these Guatemalan Worry People.)
The Prodigal, pictured below, has only recently returned from Guatemala, where he was born and lived the first three months of his life. He spent the past year and 3 months doing I don’t know what in Guatemala and is now doing the same here. You may note the subtle fluctuations in hairstyles that seem geographically determined (not pictured are the cornrows and dreds phases which also took place while he was out of town). He is a significant and frequent motivator of my purchases of Guatemalan Worry People.
Lately, however, his younger brother (that’s him to the left — intense, eh?) has upped his own level of play and has, in fact, moved into a slim lead in the all important category of Parental Angst although the Prodigal is still ahead in total points, primarily due to an overwhelming lead in the Bewilderment and Irritation events.
So, that’s us. DrHGuy & Da Boyz. For those of you keeping score, we are indeed three guys with no adult supervision – a fact which goes far toward explaining any number of otherwise inexplicable phenomena, such as why our stash of electronics includes 8-10 computers (some in various stages of cannibalization), a variety of game machines, a dozen DVD players, two separate TiVo systems, four satellite TV receivers, enough
TVs to restock a medium size Circuit City store, and a full range of musical armaments (iPods, MP3 players and servers, CDs players, etc).
Or, why I purchase massive quantities of t-shirts, sweats, running shoes, athletic socks, UnderArmour garments, and insulated outerwear only to have them mysteriously disappear from my closet and reappear on my sons’ bodies.
And it might have something to do with our multiple refrigerators and freezers stocked with Gatorade, Propel, and the like; soft drinks of all descriptions; steaks, poultry, and seafood (if God didn’t want us to eat animals, why did he make them out of meat?); frozen pizzas; at least two of every variety of Lean Cuisine (it’s a latter day Noah’s Ark thing); and a package of frozen peas (works great as an ice bag).
Favorite Max story:
We were out one day on the sports court and after missing about 20 attempted basket shots, Max turns and looks at me with the saddest expression I have ever seen and says, “Aren’t all black kids SUPPOSED to be able to play basketball?”
I miss you, Max.
Comment by Jenna Jonteaux-McClay — March 10, 2006 @ 11:30 am
How’s your stash of chocolate GU? My younger daughter can’t get it in London, so I have to make trips across the pond to bring it to her. The airfare is cheaper than the postage.
Comment by Mrs. Linklater — March 10, 2006 @ 10:35 pm