Archive for the ‘Living among the apes’ Category

8/14/14, A Special Celebration!

“Guess what today is, Mom!” The five-year-old skips into his room naked as a jay bird.

“What is today?”

He plops himself down on Mommy’s lap. “It’s my penis’s birthday!”

“It is?” Mommy laughs.

“Yep. He’s twelve today!”

“Twelve?! Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure he showed up here around the same time you did.”

The monkey giggles. “Yeah. But he’s twelve. Let’s sing to him! . . .  Happy birthday to you. . . Happy birthday to you . . .”

“Happy birthday, dear Penis . . . ” Mommy sings, “Happy Birthday to you! Okay. Can we go have breakfast now?”

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5/27/14, Geronimo!

“What’s that?”

Every loose blanket and pillow in the house has been heaped on the floor of the seven-year-old’s room.

“That’ s a Geronimo Pile,” the monkey shrugs.

“What’s a ‘Geronimo Pile’?”

“Simple. I’ll show you.”

He climbs up onto his bed and begins jumping.

“Oh, honey. Don’t-”

It’s too late. The monkey leaps high into the air, pulls his arms and legs into a cannonball and yells, “GERONIMO!!”

There’s a muffled thump as a tushy hits the floor through the pile. He springs up grinning.

“See. That’s a Geronimo Pile. You wanna try it?”

Yeah. I kind of do.


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3/4/14, Armor Class

“Hey, Dad! What’s my armor class now?”

The seven-year-old pops back up from behind the couch. There is a pair of underwear on his head. He’s holding a throw pillow, and there are socks on his hands.

“Well, let’s see. Helmet is -2, shield is -3, and I’ll give you -1 for the hand protection. So how much is that?”

The junior Dungeons and Dragons warrior screws up his face to think, which makes the underwear on his head all the more awesome. “Negative 6?”

“Yep. If you had a weapon that might help.”

The underwear helmet nods and searches the floor for a toilet paper roll or some other suitable shiv.

The four-year-old seizes the opportunity. “Dad, didya know I’m in a big armor class?”

“You are?”

“Yeah because I defeated all the challenges of Little Armor Class.”

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2/6/14, The Morning News

Morning in the forest and the littlest monkey unleashes his deep thoughts for the day.

“My crystal has powers. It can see in the dark!” He holds up a tiny Lego like evidence.

“Oh, yeah?” Mommy tickles his belly button before pulling a shirt on his head.

“I don’t have a tummy.”

“You don’t.” Left sock. Right sock.

“Nope. It belongs to my stomach. It hides over here.”


“Do you know how I ride in the car?”

“Nope.” Mommy snaps his tiny Levis closed.

“On my head.”

“Okay, Mr. Imagination! Let’s go downstairs for breakfast.”

“That’s not my name!” he growls with a terrible glint in his eye. “My name is Death of Doom!” 

“Okay, Death of Doom. Let’s go.”

Still growling like a cartoon lizard, “No. My name is Death of DOOMS!. Yeah, that’s a better name.”


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1/16/14, Gorillas in My Midst

How a boy says good morning: “Hey, mom? When can I play video games?”

How a boy eats breakfast: “Get back here, Toast!  I will defeat you! HA! HA! HA!” *Crunch* *Crunch*

How a boy eats lunch: Eat sandwich meat. Break cheese into tiny pieces and scatter. Take one bite of bread and deposit carcass into lunch box. Throw apples into trash.

How a boy eats dinner: “Back off rice! Get out of my beans!” Fork bashes plate. *Clang!* *Clang!* *Clang!*

How a boy brushes he teeth: “Mom, did you know that toothpaste is poison? It will turn me into a slimy frog!”

How a boy says good-night: “It gives me nightmares when you don’t let me watch Star Wars…”

Conclusion: Dian Fossey could have studied apes at home!

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1/15/14, Bananas!

“Mine’s bigger!”

“No! Mine’s bigger!”

“Nu-uh. See? Mine’s longer!”

“Yeah, but mine’s fatter!”

Really, boys? At 8 am? Before coffee? In the kitchen? Mom slaps the paring knife on the cutting board. Does she even look? “Listen, guys, what the heck are you…”

The monkeys are carefully assessing the two halves of a banana she’d given them for breakfast. Pressed together over the counter, the two halves are measured and weighed until the oldest finally declares, “See! Mine’s bigger.”

“Hey!” his brother whines. “No fair! Mo-om! Frankie’s got a bigger banana than me!”

Then they notice their mother staring at them in mid-sentence. She shakes her head at them both and goes back to chopping apples.

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12/10/13, The Opening of the Winter Games

Mommy monkey hangs a plastic basketball hoop on the door to the foyer.  The once  stately entrance to their center hall colonial is now officially a gymnasium.  Apparently she’s willing to do anything to keep the monkeys from tearing apart the couches again.  What could possible go wrong?

“Okay, guys!  Go ahead and practice, but if anyone hits the chandelier its -”  A basketball flies by mom’s head and bounces off the ceiling.

Sigh. “No seriously.  You have to be care-”

“A-HA!”  A seven-year-old pelts his little brother in the back with the little orange ball.

“-ful!  Dude!  This is not dodge ball. You’re supposed to -”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” the four-year-old tackles him into the couch.

“GUYS!  Basketball is not a contact sport!”

The deaf monkeys are now just chasing each other around the living room.  Again.

With an exasperated growl, mommy snatches a basketball away from one of them as they zip by and takes a shot. “Ha! Two points.”

They freeze.

“Hey, no fair!” the little one grabs his ball back.

“Hey, Mom. Want to see me make a shot?”

“Sure, honey.”  Is it too early for wine?

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11/11/13, To the Store!

“Okay, boys!  We’re on a mission.” Daddy monkey commands his troops.

The  monkeys continue to chase each other around the couch without even glancing at their fearless leader.

“We’re going to the store . . .  You need to choose your army names!”

The little one let’s go of a leg and sits up on his brother’s head.  “What’s a army name?”

“You know like Sergeant Spud or Captain Crunch.”

The older monkey shoves his brother off his back.  “What’s better, Sergeant or Captain?”

“First there’s Private then Corporal then Sergeant then Lieutenant, Captain, Major, Colonel, and then General.”

The six-year-old slashes at the air with an imaginary sword. “I’m going to be Sergeant Razor Power!”

Not to be outdone, the four-year-old screws up his face then declares with a finger in the air, “I am Lieutenant Braxton Fraleigh Garfield!”

General Daddy nods his approval. “To the store!”

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10/31/13, Scaaaaaaaaaaaaaary!



“What’s ‘grounded’ mean?”

“When you’re grounded you have to stay in your room and you can’t play with friends.  It means you’ve done something really bad.”

His face lights up.  “Like if you flood the basement or crash the car?”

The six-year-old’s immediate grasp of “really bad” is a little unnerving.  “Um. . . yeah.  Those would be pretty bad.  You’d definitely get grounded if you did those things.”

He smiles diabolically.  “Or if you blow up the whole house with TNT?”

“TNT?” Mom recoils. “No honey.  If you did that you’d probably go to jail.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “That’d be pretty bad.”

Then he saunters out the kitchen muttering to himself.

Happy Halloween!!

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9/30/13, My refrigerator is running!

*Ring*  *Ring*  *Ring*


“Uh, yes.  Hello.  This is a very important client and my computer needs fixing.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.  I am a business man downtown and I need my computer fixed.  I’m a very important client.”

“Right away, sir!”


A few minutes later, a six-year-old casually saunters into the room.  “Hey, did I hear the phone ringing?”

“Yes.  I have to go downtown right away!”  Dadddy leaps to his feet.  He pauses at the door and eyes his progeny.  “Wait.  Was that you?”

The busted monkey collapses in a shrieking laugh attack.

“You tricked me!”

And there was much tickling.  Several minutes later . . .

*Ring*  *Ring*  *Ring*

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