It's an Action Picture

We are fortunate to have a world-class Shakespeare theater in our home town, but like many people who take their home town’s amenities for granted, we don’t attend often. DH just doesn’t like serious theater—he will go when the theater offers a musical, which we both enjoy, but not the serious stuff.

The other night, before the beginning of a violin recital, I optimistically broached the subject of an invitation we’d received.

TS: I forgot to tell you that CB e-mailed us about going to Shakespeare with them.
DH: OMG.
TS: So, what do you think?
DH: Just don't tell me about it.



I should have forewarned CB how to play this, but I didn’t. She talked to DH during intermission and reported back:



CB: I spoke to your DH, and he said that he's “not really a theater person.” Perhaps we should go to a movie instead.
TS: Oh, my goodness, that doesn't mean anything! You just have to ignore that and push on.
CB: Oh, I see. Well, the theater it is, then!

(After intermission:)

TS: So, I talked to CB. We're thinking about the Count of Monte Cristo.
DH: Just get the tickets.
TS: It's an action picture.
DH: Hmmph.

(After the recital, to CB and HO)
TS: Okay, we're on. See, this is a wonderful opportunity for us—I get to go to the theater, DH gets to complain—
HO: And everybody wins!

Recycling the Grandkids

DH and I have loads of fun playing with the grandbabies. They are ages 1 and 3, and are so easy to entertain. Almost any ordinary object can become a toy which will provide hours--well, minutes--of fun for them. An example: A couple of months back, The Fred, who's almost 3, got into a big box in our den and cried, "Pack me up! Pack me up!" and we would pretend we were shipping her somewhere. She loved it.

DH is pretty inventive, and he likes to torture people just a little. (If you don't believe it, let him know that something irritates you, and see how often he does that little something afterward.) Over the weekend, DH was reading to The Fred, and she was still for a while, but when she got restless she starting doing Couch Gymnastics (climbing over the couch, doing handstands off the couch) with Grandpa.

After that, he put her into the recycling bin. (You know--paper, plastics, and little kids.) DH drove her around the house in the recycling bin for a while before inserting little brother, as well. (Little Man is happy wherever he is. Give him a sucker and put him in the recycling bin, and he's good to go.)

Back at home the next day, we got an e-mail from Pappy saying that The Fred had earned a time out for repeatedly vaulting over the back of the couch after Mommadrool gave her specific instructions not to do so, and for trying to play "recycling bin" with the laundry basket, which tipped over with her in it, resulting in some hurt feelings.

The recycling bin game is best played with adult supervision.