Monday, November 21, 2011


Curtis did something quite unexpected tonight. I asked him to stop playing and get his pajamas on. And he did!

Quite surprised, I said, "Curtis, thanks for being obedient, buddy."
"I learned about being obedient in nursery."

Had someone taken my terrible three-year-old and replaced him with this kid?

Before I could even finish that thought, Curtis walked up to me and punched me in the stomach.
Nope. Still the same kid.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Curtis: The Fugitive

Paige skipping school wasn't the only big news of the day. Traci came home with Curtis' preschool picture as well. She texted this to me:

She added in her note, "I feel like this pretty much sums up Curtis as a three-year-old."

Curtis isn't going to let anyone tell him what to do. Do you think Curtis is going to smile or say cheese just because you ask him to? Oh, heavens no. Instead, he's going to just go ahead and pose for his eventual mugshot. What can I say, he's a tough guy.

The next day, I tried to sneak a smile out of him as we walked Paige to the bus stop. I didn't capture any teeth, but I did get this shot of him wearing his Salt Lake Bees hat.

Underneath that rough exterior, he's really a softie.

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Parenthood Firsts: The "Sick" Day

I was at work when Paige's elementary school called.

"Hi, this is the secretary. We've got Paige here in the sick room. She says her stomach doesn't feel well and she thinks she might throw up."


"Can you come pick her up or would you like us to keep her here?"

"I'm at work, but my wife should be home. Let me see if I can track her down."

I found Traci and she headed over to pick up our sick little girl. I was heading into a meeting, but I asked her to text me when she picked Paige up.

TRACI: I've got her, but I feel really doubtful that she's sick.

This was at about 11:00. Traci takes Curtis to preschool at 12:30.

SPENCER: See if she wants to go back when you take Curtis.

TRACI: She's mad because I told her that if she's sick, she can't have any Halloween candy. She doesn't want to go back, though.

TRACI: She just asked me for lunch. I asked about her "sick" stomach. She told me it's actually her teeth that hurt. What is the emoticon for rolling eyes? 

Despite the lack of candy, Paige seemed to have a wonderful day off of school. I got this text later in the afternoon.

TRACI: Paige is in her room playing school. Apparently being a teacher requires you to speak in a British accent. 

Oh, the irony of staying home from school just so you can play school in your room.

I guess this shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise. Just the Sunday before, Paige said to me, "Can we stay home from church today?"

"No," I replied. "We have to go to church."

"We could just pretend we're sick."

Yes, I thought. Yes, we could.

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

The Crypt Keeper Five

Along with parenthood has come the need for favorites. Favorite colors, and numbers, and Wiggles, and monster trucks, and Strawberry Shortcake characters. And, of course, favorite holidays.

Paige loves holidays. She'll bound into our bedroom to awake us with cheers of "It's Martin Luther King Day!" or "I can't believe it's already Labor Day!" But Halloween, that's her number one holiday.

Curtis, on the other hand, is clearly rooted in his terrible, terrible threes and kind of hates everything. He spent all of last Halloween trying to get out of his costume, only to tell us that he wanted to wear the same fireman getup again this year.

So while Paige headed off to school to count down the minutes until she could come back and get in her costume, Curtis was at home trying to avoid the holiday all together.

I invited Traci and the boys to come to my work to trick or treat around the cubicles. A few minutes before they were to arrive, Traci called to tell me that Curtis was refusing to get in the car.

"Oh, just shove him in there, he'll like it when he gets here," I advised. (Fatherly wisdom.)

She did. And then she called me again from the parking lot. "Curtis is refusing to get out of the car."

Despite my efforts to coax him out with candy and the promise that he wouldn't have to speak to (or look at) anyone, he stood strong in his resistance. So Traci, Curtis, and Tate in his little skeleton onesy turned around and headed back home. 

The evening went a bit better. Curtis agreed to get in his costume (sans hat) for some trick or treat action.

Paige led the way, running from door to door and constantly being amazed by the amount of candy booty. But then things took a turn for the worst. Heading up to another door, she tripped on a step and came up with a pretty bad bloody lip.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" I asked.
Through hiccuping sobs she replied,"I'[sob, sob]...Let's...keep...trick or treating."

So we carried on, Paige walking somberly but resolutely and Curtis needing to be piggy-backed for most of the night. (It's fun to have a sleepy 30-pounder on your shoulders, banging you in the head with a plastic pumpkin.) 

Another holiday survived.