The Fruit of My Loins

Due to much pre-trip planning and an absence of poker play, I have drafted my four-year-old son AJ to do his second ever guest post (you can find the first right here). Take it away, son.

Daddy and I are going to St. Louis this weekend for Nana and Papa Jude's wedding anniversary. They've been married for 65 years! Mommy says she'd be in an institution if she had to spend that much time around Daddy. Papa Jude is really funny. He likes to tease and tickle me. He's REALLY old, like one hundred seventy billion! I can't wait to ask him what it was like to live when dinosaurs weren't extinct yet.

Dinosaurs are like the most awesomest thing ever. I wish I was like Nigel on the Discovery Channel and could (deep, serious voice-over) "Walk With Dinosaurs." My favorite dinosaur is Kentosaurus, 'cause it sounds like my Daddy's name. The Kentosaurus had one of the smallest brains of all dinosaurs, which makes sense. I got a mechanical dinosaur for Christmas that I named "Trudy" because it's a Trudon and no matter what Daddy says, it's a boy. I got "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" for Christmas, too, and Daddy is reading one chapter to me every night. Don't tell him, but it's boring. They've only been to Narnia like twice, that Edmund is a first-class prick and there's no stupid Lion, just a goofy Faun named Tumnus, who plays a flute. That's real cool, Dad. Flute-playing goat-people. Why don't we both put on a pair of tutus and sing show tunes? But he's really excited about reading it to me so I try to lay there like I'm paying attention when what I'm really doing is calculating how many outs I have with the nut flush draw and two overs.

Daddy says he's gonna miss poker while we're gone, though he said maybe we'll go to the boat to play a little Omaha. I rule the school at Omaha. You get four cards, did you know that? I do. And there's more action. Daddy's teaching me how to check-raise some...um...I forget the word...is it "douchebags?" I'm not sure what that is. I better ask somebody at church. People at church know everything.

Speaking of Omaha, Daddy wants me to pimp (I dunno what that means, I swear) the DADI Special Omalympics O8 tourney tonight on Stars. His busy schedule prevents him from playing. I said I could play instead, but he says four-year-olds can't play on teh Intarweb (whatever the heck that is) and that I'm a different kind of "special." Two guys named Jordan and TripJax are the masterminds behind this series of events and Daddy says they deserve both your entry and patronage.

We don't get to go to the Zoo on our trip this time, because Daddy says it will be too cold and rainy, plus we have lots of parties to go to for the anniversary. When I was a baby, I thought St. Louis was just a Zoo. I had fun at the Zoo with Grandma and my cousins and Daddy. I even liked the penguin house...Quiet, Daddy! It's my post!...and I DID NOT, no matter what Daddy says, cry and get scared 'cause it was so dark and cold. I'm a big boy.

Remember how Mommy and Daddy were trying to give me a little sister or brother? They still haven't but Daddy says he's got 127 million boys and they're all moving fine. I don't know what that means, either, but Daddy says it's like a race and he had to put a bunch of his boys into a cup so the doctor could find out if they could run. They can run apparently, but they can't shoot.

Grown-ups are weird.

I wish I had a little brother, who I could teach how to play Hulabaloo and checkers and to do a funky dance, though I have noticed that little babies smell like poo a lot.

Have you guys seen the Taters song? Second awesomest thing ever besides dinosaurs. Since Daddy showed it to me, I've watched it 732 times. Mommy started talking about the institution again. Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew.

Well, I guess that's all I have for you this time. Blogging is really hard. Especially when you can't spell. But I'm sure this is way better than having to read Daddy's whining about being sick or losing to a turned 6-outer.