02/5/16
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Pierce Family Adventures 2016, Episode 1: “Fruit Poops.”

During a recent ride home from an afternoon of risking life and limb at IKEA , my eldest daughter informed us that she needed 100 of something for a school project in the morning. Being exhausted and poor, my wife and I began to make suggestions to our daughter based on what we had in the house. She vetoed many perfectly viable, but apparently dull suggestions. Fearing we may actually have to invest some energy in our daughter’s education, I had a moment of inspiration. I made a suggestion that not only garnered her approval, but may have changed her life.

“How about Fruit Loops?” I offered, feeling confident, but certainly not exuberant about my idea. She responded, aghast at the suggestion.

“DAD! GROSS! No. Not Bird poops.”

I will not pretend that suggesting bird poops is outside the realm of possibility for me. They are free, countable, and abundant depending on the season. However, in this case, I did NOT make that suggestion. I swiftly corrected my daughter and, relieved, she accepted the offer of the colorful cereal dwelling in our pantry. I would like to tell you that the rest of the ride home continued appropriately; but the damage had been done.

Even though my daughter possesses my wife’s sensibilities, she also has my sense of humor and the normal propensities of a second grader. After the horror connected to the word “poop” passed, the humor of the word took over. From the driver’s seat I began to hear giggling, as my daughter worked out the pun. “I said bird poops…that sounds like fruit loops…fruit loops…bird poops…” This revelation was repeated in various forms as she talked herself through the sounds–allowing her glee to move past giggling to wild cackling as I heard her say, rather too excitedly, “Fruit poops!”

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08/5/14

Shampoop

Like most parents, freshly risen from a semi-restful night of slumber, I made my first stop the master bathroom to conduct my morning business.

Our spacious lavatory includes: a double-sink situation to minimize marital conflicts and a massive walk-in closet to contain piles of unwashed clothing. It also has a nice shower, with sliding glass door, to remove all hope of privacy when marauding children barge in and ask any number of questions vulnerable dads don’t feel like answering in the shower.

The most useful component of our master bath, however, has to be the commode with its own door. The commode not only contains our toilet, but the small room doubles as a library, reading nook, botanical garden (pending wife approval), and all purpose sanctuary/retreat center.

It was after a respite in our commode, still waking up, that I opened the door, stepped out into the commons area and beheld one of the most terrifying, panic-inducing, sights in all of parenting history: Continue reading