Category Archives: Random Toy Box

Posts on the general topic of family.

I’ll trade you my virus for your bacterial infection

My son is finishing up his two-week spring break from preschool. For a long time, I couldn’t figure out why preschoolers needed a two-week spring break. Is preschool so stressful that it takes two weeks to recover from the wear and tear of the 10 weeks gone by since the month-long winter break? Do the children need two weeks to recruit their strength for that last big push toward preschool final exams?

I think I may have finally figured it out.

I think it will take a good two weeks to air out the building and rid it of kiddie germs after the winter of plague we’ve had.

This winter has been the most disease-infested season I can recall. I’ve worn dried baby snot on my shoulder since November. In that time, my family has contributed our quota of snot for the next five years. Fortunately, the baby was the only one who regularly decorated my shirts with it.

I used to be a pretty healthy guy. But that was back when I used to get enough sleep, have time for hobbies, and earn enough money to make ends meet. In other words, that was before I had little people painting snot art on my shirts.

Back then I only had to deal with adult germs. Adult germs are child’s play. Adult germs visit for a day, give you an excuse to call in sick, then pack up their sniffles and move along. Kids’ germs gang up on you. They drag you down, bind and gag you, and use your head and a frying pan as cymbals. Kids’ germs can be cruel.

And preschool is a veritable stock exchange of kids’ germs. My boy must be a pretty good trader, because he was always bringing home a new and exciting strain of something, purchased at only the cost of an old, used-up bug that we had already wrung dry of puke and mucus. We’re so proud of him.

attack on marine hospital

Even in the olden days, people just could not get enough of those addictive walk-in clinic fumes. Here, crowds jockey for position to get a whiff of some coveted quarantine effluvium.

At the worst of the epidemic, we could not get in to see our family doctor. We had to go to the walk-in clinic, which is the perfect place to go if you want to sample any of the diseases your family doesn’t already have. If you ever have a burning desire to wallow in the midst of contagion, spend a few hours in this waiting room. You’ll know what germ-laden miasma tastes like.

We waited out in the hall. The air was cold there, but at least we couldn’t see it.

For months, all we heard about was what a bad flu season it was. I don’t know anything about that. I do know that it was a bad season for pharyngitis, ear infections, strep throat, strep tongue, strep teeth, a mystery virus that probably wasn’t mononucleosis after all, and a host of other anonymous bugs. The one illness we did not contract, in the midst of this epic flu season, was the flu. I guess we’re just lucky like that.

A 100th Post Party – with awards and everything!

This is my 100th post on Snoozing on the Sofa. It has been a lot of fun and a lot of work. The work part makes me think that maybe this is an accomplishment of some sort. Maybe, it’s an accomplishment that should be celebrated.

Therefore: Yay!

Okay, now that the celebrating is done.

This milestone reminds me that as a blogger, I am part of a blogging community. I have not been the most diligent member of my community.

Fellow bloggers have nominated me for blog awards three times. These nominations do not culminate in formal ceremonies. Rather, they are the way bloggers recognize the work of fellow bloggers that they enjoy. It’s a way to tell another blogger that you really appreciate the work they are doing.

These nominations come with responsibilities. With some minor variation, the recipient is supposed to:

  1.  recognize the blogger who made the nomination
  2.  reveal some facts about themselves
  3.  nominate some other blogs that they admire

I have been very bad at handling these responsibilities. The following doesn’t completely make up for the shirking of my duties, but I hope it makes some difference.

These are the blogs who have nominated Snoozing on the Sofa:

Sandy’s Spotlight nominated my blog for the Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award. Sandy’s Spotlight features reviews of books and author interviews. It’s a great spot for finding new authors, and Sandy is just about the most generous person you’ll ever meet.

Sweet blog

Ned’s Blog nominated my blog for the Liebster Award. Ned’s Blog reminds me of The Onion, except that it’s all written by one guy, Ned. He’s one funny dude.

leibster-award

Rafferty’s Rules nominated my blog for the Versatile Blogger Award. Rafferty’s Rules offers a collection of well-written pieces on a wide variety of topics.

versatile-blogger-award

Here are some facts about me (whether you want to know them or not):

  1. I am an introvert. Extroverts usually don’t understand my social awkwardness. I don’t know what other introverts think about it; we seldom speak.
  2. Although I have never been to Pittsburgh, I am a big Steelers and Penguins fan. When I used to follow baseball, I was a Pirates fan as well.
  3. I have five unpublished novels floating around on various hard drives.
  4. My favorite Confederate general is Daniel Harvey Hill. I don’t have a favorite Union general, which is odd, because I always root for the North in my Civil War reading.
  5. I love both Mark Twain and Charles Dickens, which I’ve been told you’re not supposed to be able to do.
  6. I don’t like to fly, but I’m not about to walk to Italy.
  7. My favorite spirituous drink is scotch and my favorite clear tape brand is Scotch; I’m nothing if not consistent.
  8. I once drove to Graceland to leave a bottle of Bourbon on Elvis’s grave. I’m not sure if Elvis liked bourbon, but I bet at least one of the groundskeepers does.
  9. It took me more than an hour to compose this list.
General D.H. Hill

Daniel Harvey Hill. He probably would have hated my Yankee guts.

For these three awards, I am supposed to nominate a total of about 35 other blogs. I don’t know 35 other blogs or bloggers well enough to make that many nominations. (See number 1 in the above list.) Instead, I’m going to nominate 10 blogs that are worthy of all the aforementioned awards. I hope everyone will check them out.

I happily nominate:

year-struck – It’s like a primer for those who love the English language.

Listful Thinking – Restores my faith in the next generation’s ability to write and execute satire.

South of the Straight – Travel, art, raising teenagers: all sorts of stuff I need lessons in.

Bug Bytes – As a father of little boys, I like reading this comical perspective of a mother of little girls.

Traci Carver– The life and times of a school teacher in the southern U.S. They can make a pie out of anything.

Papa Angst! – The trials and tribulations of an at-home dad.

Chronicles of Dad – A fortyish father who is also a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. Coincidence?

Dirty Rotten Parenting – Hey, all parents take shortcuts once in a while.

don of all trades – His taste in beer is suspect, but he still writes some funny stuff about family life.

UNDEAD DAD – Some eloquent pieces about fatherhood and being a writer.

Thanks to the bloggers who have nominated Snoozing on the Sofa. And thanks to all the bloggers who supply me with entertaining reading. And to all the folks who come here regularly to read a little, and hopefully grab a smile, thanks for putting the fun into these 100 posts. I hope to see you all again to celebrate the next 100.

Home is where the warm, cozy blankets are

My four-year-old son likes to sit with me in our recliner to watch cartoons. When I say sit with me, of course I mean sit on top of me. That’s okay though, he only weighs a few pounds more than a big bag of kitty litter and he’s more fun to watch cartoons with than a sack of granulated clay is.

The boy usually announces his intention to set up camp on top of me with the words, “Daddy, I want to be with you.” Then he climbs up and snuggles himself in while I guard my tender spots from wayward elbows and knees. Once he settles in, it’s not the least bit uncomfortable, and it’s nice to watch cartoons together.

Since we don’t lack sweaters or blankets in our house, we don’t like to run the heat too high, even on cold winter nights. My son and I help keep each other warm as we sit together in our recliner. If I can avoid injury during the climbing up and down portion of this together time, it presents what would seem to be a great bonding opportunity.

The other night, it seemed particularly cold in the house. The temperature had just plunged back into January after a short, mid-winter thaw. It always seems much colder after a fleeting taste of spring.

My son was sitting with me on the recliner when he noticed his mother spreading a thick, cozy comforter over herself on the couch. Before I knew what happened, I was sitting alone. The boy was installing himself next to his mother, under her inviting blanket.

“What?” I asked, in the disappointed tone of one suddenly abandoned. “I thought you said you wanted to be with me.”

He shrugged. “I found someone else I wanted to be with.”

So much for our great bonding opportunity.

on Daddy's lap

Watching cartoons in the good old days, before a sudden cold snap left me cast aside for somebody more cozy.

Can you crawl to the kitchen and get me some juice?

Some things are more enjoyable when done with one’s children. Being sick is not one of them. You can hardly enjoy being sick at all when your kids are sick too. It just about ruins the whole experience.

Four-year-olds forget their manners altogether when they are sick. They don’t want to sleep in their own beds, and they will make sleeping in yours next to impossible for you if you let them insert themselves there. And you will let them insert themselves, because in your weakened state you are prone to bouts of empathy, and they can sense this.

On our first night of family illness, I let my son sleep in the bed with me. His mother, who was slightly less ill, and exceedingly more wise, than his father, opted to sleep on the couch. She made a speedy recovery.

A sick four-year-old in your bed is a sprinkler system for germs. Even though my son covers his mouth during waking hours, he made no bones about coughing directly into my face in the bed. Rolling over saved my face, but it did nothing to prevent his charming little sneeze droplets from alighting upon the back of my neck. I also discovered that, even in the throes of illness, I can be remarkably nimble when it comes to dodging  puke.

Sick children need their juice. They need it now and they need it where they are. Sick parents might have very wobbly legs, but that is no excuse for not crossing the room to slide a boy’s cup of juice two inches closer to him so that he does not have to roll over to reach it.

Sick children have a great many needs, none of which will wait until Daddy is feeling just a little bit better. I feel fortunate that Mommy was able to tend to the sick infant’s needs without much help from me. This left me free to attempt to keep my legs under me until the preschooler had all of his needs met, or until he realized that I wasn’t trying to cough up a lung just to mock him.

father in bed

In olden times, when the father got sick, the children busied themselves knitting warm garments for him instead of tormenting him with their sundry juice requests.

He got better quicker than I did. This was a relief; all of his sick neediness was replaced by healthy neediness. There were lots of Christmas toys to be opened. Just getting the modern toy out of its box is a half-hour, labor-intensive process, requiring no less than three separate tools. Rescuing toys from their intricate webs of packaging is one of the primary reasons why dads exist. I was happy to help my son liberate his toys, from where I lay on the floor, even at the risk of falling asleep with scissors in my hand.

Both of the boys are well again. I am nearly so. For their sakes, I hope I get back to 100% very soon. It is an unfairness to them, having to jump and climb all over a chronic complainer who is forever whining about not feeling well enough to take a sharp knee in the gut.