Last night Chicago was hit by a rush hour snowstorm. Since slush turns commuters into idiots, I opted to stay at work and catch up on a few things. Just then the phone rang.
“Our power is out.” I heard both Elijah and Grover having conniptions in the background. Grover was particularly was upset that his lack of thumbs prevent him from using a flashlight.
I decided to rush home so I could sit in the dark with the rest of the clan. The details of my trip are too gruesome for a family blog. But those Chileans were asking to be eaten. By the time I entered the house our power was thankfully back on.
I took over Eli duty and Diana turned her attention to turkey tacos. I sat in the rocking chair and proclaimed it Story Time. I commanded Eli to fetch me a book. Preferably one that included Elmo, or explained where the wild things were.
But Eli handed me the rhyming toothbrush book. Curses! If you remember from a few months ago, this book features an overly cheery kid who explains the basics of cleaning your teeth by combining words like “paste” with “haste.”
“Are you sure you want this book? What about Elmo?”
“Teeth!”
“Ooh look the alphabet book. Which letter is this?”
“Teeth! Teeth!”
“Fine. You better be a dentist when you grow up.”
I decided to spice up the rhyming toothbrush book by rapping it. I put on my best street voice and said, “yo” a lot and spit all over the back of Eli’s head in a attempt to mimic a drum machine. Eli loved it and helped me lay down a funky fresh beat and danced like a malfunctioning robot.
I was really getting into it and started freestyling about sinks and the dreaded gum disease Gingivitis.
Suddenly I turned to see Diana standing behind me on the steps. Her expression was that special combination of horror, pity and mocking that comes from discovering your whiter than white husband flashing tooth related gang signs to your toddler.
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