Washing Windows

Step-by-step account of actual days events (and a little insight into how my brain works)…
Find spray bottle.
Find squeegee.
Go outside.
Spray door wall windows with spray bottle.
Squeegee windows.
Run out of water.
Contemplate options.
Decide faucet is too far.
Remember I have the ability to make my own spray bottle.
Pull down my pants.
Pee on the windows.
Squeegee pee off windows.
Go inside.
Proudly tell my Mom, “I wash you windows!”
My Mom smiles, because she is more than surprised at the beauty of the streak-free clean a little urine can provide.
Your Welcome.

The First Day...Of The Rest Of My Life

Embarking of this adventure called school has long been an anticipated dream of mine.

The build-up to this particular day has been nothing short of monumental; after all, I am “the Baby”.

More importantly, it marks my break from the eagle-eye of my Mother…or so I thought.

Just when I think I’m being afforded a little freedom, it’s really just a changing of the guard.

I was warmly (yet deceivingly) greeted by THREE older versions of my mom.  That’s right; not one, not two, but three women whos only job is to monitor my every move.  Their sweet smiles only hide their CIA-operative-spy-like observation skills.

THAT’S SCHOOL?!

And that’s when I decided…you want something to watch…I’ll give you something to watch.

So I started by offering all of the teachers as well as my unsuspecting new classmates the booger that sat upon the tip of my index finger.  For those that fell prey to acting squeamish, I feigned wiping it on them.  I even chased a few of the overly-dramatic, threatening to tattoo them with my germy pointer.

On to the playground…I asked the teacher to help me zip my sweatshirt, and while she was crouched in front of me, face-to-face, I asked if I could see her boobs.  Much to my surprise, she denied my request.

Next, Circle Time…I love that they know all of the same songs as me.  Or at least some version of my playlist.  So when we sang the “ABC’s” I was more than eager to share how it should be sung (with an emphasis on the “P” followed by a rant of “pee-pee, poo-poo” shouts.

And my favorite, Snack Time…In the time it too my teacher to turn around to get the pitcher of water, I was able to summit our snack table and proclaim, “HEY EVERYBODY, WATCH THIS!…”  But before I could finish the show, I was quickly scooped up and placed back in the miniature version of a chair.

I am really going to have to step up the executions of my plans.  No worries, I have all year...

Good Ideas

In my world, one good idea usually leads to another.  On average, the results are either fun or hilarious (and usually just plain worth it).  Then there are those rare occasions when all three merge, in combination with a near heart attack for my Mom, and I call it a successful day.

First Good Idea…Help my Mom pack the car for our road trip (quite helpful, if you ask me).

Which led to Good Idea #2…Put the keys in the ignition to open all of the windows.

Naturally leading to Idea #3…Since the windows are open, I exit the car via the windows and climb onto the roof by way of the roof racks and some fancy footwork.

Awesome Idea #4…While atop the car, the discovery of what I could see from that height led to one of my best ideas EVER.

(Now understand that my Mother was at a distinct disadvantage when she finally came upon the following scene, as she was not privy to Ideas 1-4 beforehand.)

Look closely…I am intentionally lying down and shadowed because I am about 75% sure this may be frowned upon.

 

INCREDIBLY FANTASTIC IDEA #5...Use the top of the Suburban as a platform to climb upon the top of the opened garage door (and simultaneously discover new ways to give my Mother unnecessary heart palpitations).

 

How long did it take you?  It took my Mom approximately 9 minutes (that’s like 47 hours in Mom-Time).

I heard the ever-familiar gasp of “HOLY HELL!” when she finally caught a glimpse of me lying as still as a stick-bug hiding from predators, just trying to blend with my surroundings.

After quickly snapping a photo (which she thought I didn’t see her doing) to prove to my Dad just what happens during her “easy-stay-at-home-Mom-day”, she gently coaxed me down.  I was glad to reenact each move I used to make my ascent, and give a play-by-play description of the process during the reverse descent.

Not-So-Awesome-Result…I may as well be on house arrest.  That woman has resorted to not letting me out of her sight, not even for a second.  I must now accompany her as she tries to complete her daily household tasks, while she showers, while she makes dinner, and even when she uses the toilet.  Talk about punishment!

She may take away my freedom, but she can never take away my imagination.  And where there’s a will…there’s a way!  Stay tuned.

Team USA!

After 17 days of non-stop Olympics coverage in our home, I have come to learn some very important information.  For Example:

*If your country has less than 4 people marching in the opening ceremony, you are probably tied with Tajikistan for 83^rd place with one bronze medal.

*The athletes from the USA have a lot of wonderful things to say…about themselves.

*Usain Bolt is my new hero because he can pull off the “Hulk Hogan dip-lean-&-point” like no other.

*A lot of girls look like boys.

And finally,

*Although China took a not-so-close second to USA in the medal count, they win the prize for having a country name that rhymes with one of my most favorite words in the world!

Think…

Keep Thinking…

Do you have it yet?

Follow me here…

Having been subjected to countless hours of Olympic viewing, I have come to understand two very important pieces of information: 1) Not everyone in the world looks like me, and 2) I can recognize someone that comes from a country that received almost as much TV coverage as Team USA.

So today at Meijer, when I saw a woman that was clearly one of the 1.3 Billion born in China, I had this to say to her:

“IT’S NOT CHINA, IT’S VAGINA! ”

Having said this numerous times during the games, it should not have come as such a surprise to my mother.  But it was.

Lucky for her, the woman (whose first language was clearly not English) looked more confused than angry and just smiled at me.

I, of course, smiled back…the biggest shit-eating grin I have ever smiled in my life.

I think someday I will be an ambassador for this great country of mine.

Bungee Innovations

I’m curious.  I’m inventive.  I’m mischievous.  Quite an extraordinary combination, I know.

This trifecta of useful traits came in very handy when I discovered the surprising elasticity of bungee cords and their many uses.

Use #1: A fantastic leash when the mood strikes me to pretend to be “Barron”, my alter-canine-ego.

Use #2: A makeshift lock when I loop it around both the doorknob on my door to the doorknob on my sister’s door.  The further the bungee stretches, the harder it is for them to open their makeshift prison.  Watching one of them try to escape while the other pries open the door is like watching someone try to clear the gauntlet…unsuccessfully…every time.  I just roll on the floor watching & laughing.

Use #3: Excellent connection between my sister’s bike, the wagon, the sled & my big wheel (in that order).  The one downfall…when the first object stops, the bungees recoil but do not aid in the stopping process, thereby creating quite a pile-up.

Use #4: De-pantser.  I am smaller than most (approximately ass-height to most adults).  This handicap comes in handy when I want to hook a bungee to the belt loop of anyone taller than me & then sit down.  When they realize what is happening, they instinctively turn around, thereby aiding in the process of bringing their pants to their knees.  Fantastically hilarious…for me.

Use #5: Opener…of everything.  Simply by hooking one end to my shirt, the other to anything needing to be opened and then backing up, I just let physics take over.

What could possibly go wrong with this?  Let me tell you…some things are not secured or attached to a fixed object as well as others.

For example…dresser drawers: attached, cabinet doors: attached, fence gates: attached, faucets: attached, oven doors: attached, dishwasher drawers: NOT ATTACHED!

In a painful discovery, I found out that bungees DO have a maximum tension & something has to give.  In this case, the very tiny plastic clips holding the very heavy sliding drawer full of glasses and bowls were no match for my bungee power.  The surprise outcome (at least to me), the entire drawer broke free from the dishwasher and came soaring toward me in a rocket-propelled instant.  The retracting the bungee, again, did not aid in stopping the inertia of the drawer.

This isn’t the first time my Mom has spent the day shining a flashlight into my eyes to examine my pupils (and I’m sure it won’t be the last).  I don’t know what “checking for dilation” means, but if she’s trying to look into the depths of my brain to somehow explain my actions…keep looking baby!  It will take something stronger than a flashlight to find that source.

#2 Katie, #2 Katie! Where for art thou, #2 Katie?!?

My favorite thing about family reunions?  The possibility of a non-relative showing up so I can work my magic.

Such was the case at the annual Brown Family Party that took place on July 4^th.

There aren’t too many of these kinsfolk that I see on a regular basis, so I took it upon myself to acquaint myself with each and every one of them via my standard introduction, “Hi.  I Brennan, Who You?”

Then, like the clouds parting to reveal a double rainbow, I saw HER. 

Pulling out all the stops I approached her, smiled, and smacked her leg with the swim-noodle I had positioned between my legs.

Not understanding how I charm the ladies, my Mother said, “Brennan!  Nice boys don’t hit girls with their noodles.”  With a smirk, I let that one go because sometimes the countless number of counters that could be said just shouldn’t be said.

After establishing that my new obsession’s name was Katie, I quickly dubbed her #2 Katie.  Not because she held anything less than #1 in my smitten heart, but because my aunt is also named Katie, and I grant seniority when and where it is due.

And just as a pesky mosquito is nauseatingly attracted to a luminous figure amidst the darkness, I felt the uncontrollable magnetism that redheaded goddess had on me…and it was on.

For the next three days she was my one and only focus.

If she wasn’t in my presence, I was asking where she was…constantly.
If she was in my presence, I was all over her…relentlessly.

I didn’t let a little hurdle like my inability to swim hamper my willingness to attempt to paddle through the waves on Lake Huron to get to her.  Nor did I let the minor setback of height inhibit my attempts to get as close as possible to the mirrored glasses that adorn her face.

I pulled out all the stops.  Again bringing in the swim-noodle as a prop, I pranced around in front of her on that bendable piece of foam swinging the “tail in the front” it had formed, determined to turn her attention away from that boy who brought her to town.

Technically, I think he is my “first-cousin-once-removed”, but regardless of our familial relations, I will take that boy down to get to the prize.  Bring on your brothers, both of them if you need, I have a little something called chutzpa to back me up.

Look it up & be prepared.

As for my beloved, #2 Katie…until we meet again.  And by then I will be a full year older, wiser & that much more aggressive.

Area-O-Fun

Some things are just made for each other, like peanut butter & jelly, mashed potatoes & gravy, Ike & Tina.

And some things are not, like anything that is spring-loaded & my penis!

It has long been my M.O. to clamp, stick or generally attach things to my junk on an inquiring basis.  It really comes down to curiosity and my ever-burning desire to figure out the many different functions of my boy-parts (not to mention, anything that involves me taking my pants off is an added bonus).

While primping herself for the day, my Mother called me into her bathroom only to find that I had removed my freedom-inhibiting pants, gently secured some plastic pliers to the soft squishy section below my penis, and was swinging it to and fro like a giant clock pendulum.  With a gentle unhinging, she removed them and went back to her business.

As I watched her remove the giant clip securing that mop of burnt blonde hair atop her head, I thought, “I wonder what else that would clamp to?”  My first thought…MY PENIS, OF COURSE!

Seeing as I was already pants-free, it took me no time at all to grab the toothy clip, squeeze it open and position it over my entire area-o-fun.

BIG MISTAKE!

With a howl and a hunch, I scrambled to remove my delicate manhood from the jaws of spring-loaded hell.

It was in that moment I was reminded that not everything should take an exploratory trip down penis lane.

And according to my Mom, that includes spring-loaded hair clips, markers, anything attached to the other end of bungee cords, sandwiches, and all girls associated with GoDaddy.com (4 out of 5 I actually have experience with, the 5^th may need further research once I figure out what that means).