Here is a photo of Evey and me taken yesterday at Rick's. I had to run a few errands in Lawrence, including picking her up from Judy's house.
We started off at Pyramid Pizza (which Evey now prefers over Papa Keno's — that's my girl!) and played a few video games: generic Galaga, Ms. Pac-Man and Donkey Kong, which Evey was interested in based on that Adam Sandler movie Pixels.
From there, on to Rick's, where we played maybe seven games of Pop-a-Shot. Based on the score of our first game, I spotted her 40 points per play, to make it interesting. She beat me every game with that 40-point spot. The last game she went off for 40! I was regularly scoring in the mid-60s, so there was no way I was going to win the last, Grand Master Championship game.
Pretty sure I got hustled.
Boyd had a "Donuts for Dads" day at Montessori School recently. He was excited for me to attend. I had just gotten back from the U.S. Open, so I was happy I was able to go.
The joke I had with Boyd was, "Can I eat six donuts? Seven?" And he'd fuss, "NO, DAD! ONE DONUT!" This is a regular joke I have with the kids, usually over brownies, or whatever dessert is in the house.
Well the answer was I got a half a lousy donut — yes, a donut cut in half, the perfect picture of cheap-ass.
I won't tell you how much we pay a month for Boyd to be told that fantasy (like super-heroes) are bad for his intelligence (even though I credit my "talent" for writing to comic books) but apparently it is only enough for Montessori to afford half a donut.
But that's not my point. The whole ordeal was pretty much a mess, as there was no one directing traffic, or saying hello. Just dirty looks from the teacher while we all sweated outside.
Dammit, that's still not my point.
My point is that the highlight of the event (for me, pretty sure Boydee has a blast) was as I exited, another adrift father pointed to me that there seemed to be some questionnaires for us that were set out. (I only assume they were meant for me to pick up and take with me.)
So here is Boyd's questionnaire he filled out about his Old Man:
I think my dad is: 39 (correct!)
My dad loves to eat: queso (Incorrect! But I love it because this is clearly sarcasm, as Boyd knows queso pisses me off... not because I don't like it, but because the family expects us to order it whenever we're out to eat Mexican... and I don't like my kids to expect an appetizer.)
My dad works hard. His job is to: put the fence back up if a storm knocks it down. (I think he's being honest here. Adrianne would consider that sarcasm, but Boyd might actually think I did a decent job of putting it back up... even though it took me about two months to finally reattach the door, and also because I had to call Neuty to help me get the stumps out.)
My dad is really good at: working on his computer. (Nice, Boyd. I do basically work on a computer all day. Thankful for that. I'd be lousy at manual labor.)
I love my dad because: some days he lets me watch Rescuebots on Netflix. I like to play in the water sprinkler with him. You're the best Dad! (Well, Boyd, you continue to get me in trouble with your teacher. Your teacher hates Netflix, and Rescuebots is based in fantasy, which they said is a no-no. Maybe that's why they pulled out the plate full of half-donuts when I got there. Son, we've got to work on you knowing when to keep your mouth shut. But I love you too. Now, pass the queso.)