not sixteen anymore....

"Hey honey, do you mind adjusting my foot?  I slammed it down on the floor hard to emphasize a point with the boys and now it hurts... real bad..."

{Insert my laughter here}
 
"You can laugh all you want, but it isn't going to stop the fact that my foot hurts."


You know that you are not sixteen anymore when rolling off the couch, wrestling, and slamming your foot down on the floor hurts your body badly.

And honestly, I am quite happy that my body will fall apart with Nate by my side. Nine awesome years began today... nine awesome years ago.

cj says

"Mom, say bye."

"Bye CJ, where are you going?"

"I am going to Santa's house."

"Santa's house?"

"Yeah!  Caleb go with me."

"Can I come too?"

"Nope.  You staying here."


* * * * *


"Caleb, I think you are almost old enough to give up naps," Mom says.

"Me too?"  CJ asks hopefully.

"No, not until you are four or five,"  Mom says.

"Ding! Ding!  Ding!  Yeah!  I am five.  No more naps!"  CJ cheers.

"Sorry dude... it doesn't work like that," Mom says.

"Yes.  Yes it does mom."


* * * * *


"CJ, can you say rice?"  Said by the awesome Aunt Sadie.

"Rice..... can you say dopamine?" CJ replies.

"Dopamine,"  Sadie replies with a chuckle.


* * * * *

Marching up the stairs with a serious look plastered across CJ's face, he approaches Great-Grandma.

"Great-Grandma, I want a candy cane," he says firmly.

"I don't have any candy canes,"  Great-Grandma replies... slightly shocked at his aggressiveness.

"Yes... you dooooes,"  CJ replies.

"No, I don't."  Great-Grandma smiles.

"Yes... you doooes.  I saw it."  CJ asserts.

"I don't have any candy canes CJ,"  Great-Grandma replies.

"Yes... you dooes.  I show you."  CJ says as he leaves the room in a flurry.

you know you are a cool dad when...

your six-year-old (Conner) lovingly proclaims:

"I am so proud of dad.  He is learning cool things.  Like how to shoot a gun, cut up rat brains, and control mice."

"I am proud of my dad"

"He is super cool."

"I want to play with rat brains and guns when I am big and a dad."

ms. lee is hot

With elbows propped on the kitchen table his six-year-old head rests in the palm of his hands, his class picture sitting on the table in front of him.

"Dad, come look at this." Conner begs.

Dad walks away from the sink of dirty dishes to take a look.

"Tell me what you see."  Conner says, pointing to the 8x10 collage of classmates.

"I see you and I see your friend Jon and is that Emma?"  Dad says while drying his hands on a towel.

"No, dad.  Tell me what do you see?"  Conner says with his voice slightly rising.

"Okay, I see your teachers and your friends."  Dad says.

"No, dad!  Tell me what you see!!"  Conner's voice is now high, frustration blaring from his nose.

"Okay, okay,"  Dad says slightly baffled, "I see Maya, she has a cute smile and Suzanna's hair is cute and Kyra looks like a fun friend."

"No dad!  What do you see!!"  Conner is now yelling.

"I don't know!  What do you want me to see?!?"  Dad says in return... and let's be honest, his voice is beginning to rise too.

"Look at her.  My teacher.  What do you think?"  Conner says pointing to his twenty-something-single Chinese teacher.

"She looks nice."  Dad says.

"No, Dad.  What do you see?" Conner yells.


Finally, I leave the kitchen sink to look at the picture. 


"Dad, I think Conner is wanting you to say that his Chinese teacher is cute."  I say.

Conner's face turns from pink to red.

"Say it dad."  Conner says shyly.

"No.  She is not as cute as your mom."  Dad says firmly.

"Just say it dad,"  he says.

"No."  Dad says again.

"ms. lee is cute."  I finally say.


End of conversation.
Arguing with a six-year-old about the hotness of his Chinese teacher?
Exhausting :)

scent of dopamine

"Colton, your hand smells good.  What is on it?"  said Nate while putting Colton in bed.

"Dopamine!"  Colton said.  His hand proudly raised in the air.

"Are you serious?  How did you get dopamine on your hand?"  Dad asked with laughter brewing in his neuroscientist tummy.

"Don't know,"  said Colton, his eyebrows wrinkled in deep thought.

"So, what is on your hand?"  Dad asked again.

"Dopamine,"  Replied the somewhat puzzled Colton.

"Alright then.  Glad your hand smells like dopamine. Can you say the word monosaccharide?"  Dad says while rolling onto his back, a smile the size of Texas stamped across his face, and his forearm draped against his forehead.

"Monnosaccaride" Colton responds, his syllables as clear as a whistle.

"Great.  How about norepinephrine?" Dad says as I kiss Colton on the forehead and walk away.


Fathers and sons typically bond with fishing poles, soccer balls, and football games.
Colton and Nate?
They bond with biochemistry.

three truths and no lie

1.  I spent an entire night with Colton's toenail clipping lodged in my eye.

2.  Nate is teaching our kids that glucose is sweeter than a woman's kiss.



3.  Colton won't go to sleep without his "weapon."

Subluxated carrots of the world...

Conner the "carrot-practor" is here to save your aching back.
His hands are clean and pisiforms ready to provide proper cavitation. 

And don't worry, his adjustments are {almost always} free...

Resisting the urge to nibble on a properly aligned carrot?  Impossible.