Tag Archives: Finn McMissile

This is cool, right?

Over the weekend the kids were playing quietly in the girl’s room. That’s a dead giveaway that they are probably doing something wrong.

So I poke my head in there to see what’s going on. Maren is sitting their cutting pieces of paper into a million tiny pieces (which her mom will clean up a day later). In the corner is little Brant.

Playing by himself.

With dolls.

And a dollhouse.

I played with dolls when I was a kid. But we didn’t call them dolls, we called them G.I. Joe’s or He-Man or Macho Man Action Figures. We called them that because we’re boys and boys don’t play with dolls.

Last night he was all over the place with a pair of Buzz Lightyear toys, so everything’s back to normal. Then this morning, after I got him out of bed, I walked back in and he had a pile dolls, beds, etc. putting them all “night-night.”


Night-Night, baby dolls.

He offset the dolls with a Pirate t-shirt and a Lightning McQueen slipper that doubled as a bed. Still, when I get home today, I’m going to switch all the dolls out for Buzz and Woody and Lightning. I bet I can fit Finn McMissile in that crib, right?

Longest weekend … ever

A couple of times a year Mrs. Bowman packs her bags for a long weekend of fun. Well, that’s if your idea of fun includes spending a weekend with relatives and using every waking moment at the outlets shopping for children’s clothing (well, that’s how I picture it in my head).

The trip leaves my kids with full closets of clothes that I swear they will wear one time.

This weekend was her annual trip south to shop for summer clothes. It could not have come at a worse time, but I wasn’t going to tell her not to go, or to go late.

But on the day of departure – Thursday – Maren came home from school saying some kids noticed some red spots on her chin and Brant was his normal approaching-the-terrible-twos self. Pretty typical Thursday actually.

Then we realized Maren had a rash on her trunk so I ended back at the hospital where we found out it was an allergic reaction to medicine she was taking for strep throat, which she had been taking for nine days.

So my wife says she’ll stay home and leave Friday. No, I said, I can take care of Maren on Friday. Go spend money.

Big mistake. Big.

Plan was to keep Maren out of school Friday, send Brant and then party all weekend while mom’s outta town. Chuck E. Cheese on Saturday morning, eat Cheetos on the couch that night and then sleep in late on Sunday.

Plans, as most parents know, are for suckers.

As the girl sleeps in Friday morning, Brant wakes up crying for mommy. Great start, compounded by the 102 fever he is sporting, too.

This weekend has now just got all kinds of awesome.

Actually, it could have been worse. Maren was just out of it all weekend, rash spread to her cheeks and toes (poor kid stayed covered up all weekend so no one could see) and Brant’s temp dropped to the point where he resumed hitting every horizontal surface in our house with his toy hammer. We learned that Finn McMissile will indeed fly (by either jumping off a coffee table or throwing).

But he was not happy. If you notice, in video above, not even a doughnut for dinner was enough to talk him off the ledge. Separation anxiety has returned to our house in a big-time way.

The grandparents where certainly an invaluable help and everyone (I think) kept their sanity. Maren and I spent enough time in bed to finish the first Harry Potter and start the second. Brant watched Cars 2 17 times and mommy returned home to a happy boy, a sick girl and houseful of adults with their nerves about shot.

Guess there is little question who balances things in our family.