A Visit with the E.B.

We had no intention of seeing this guy this year. Just wasn't in the cards. We happened to be at the mall running some errands when we kind of stumbled upon him. Both boys wanted to get their picture taken and there were zero kids in line. Zero.

And the photo is awesome. Neither kid is dressed for the occasion. No white jackets or purple suspenders. No slicked hair. What you see is what you get, Easter Bunny. Incredibles t-shirt, rumpled collar, kind of messy hair.

It's like, whatever, you know?

The expressions kill me. Both have that, "Check me out Mom & Dad. Here I am." pride about them. Even our furry, carrot-eating, colored egg-distributing friend is wearing a surprised face.

And it's no coincidence that Vincent isn't sitting on the dude's lap. That's where he drew the line. He's much better with gloves than he used to be but let's be serious here. He quickly shrugged off the request with a curt, "No."

If it had been planned, we would not have captured this. Too much anticipation would've done us all in. So thanks, Easter Bunny. For being at the right place at the right time.

Cousins

These kids have badass cousins. No gettin' around it. Our buddy John in Long Island and young Lady Caroline (pictured). They were here for an afternoon of havoc and fun with Mom-Mom and Auntie Maria and stopped long enough to let the paparazzi snap a few. (Ed. note: What is it about these photo strips that I love? Is it that we get 3 or 4 quick, imperfect moments? Yeah - that's probably it. No more questioning needed.) So back to cousins. These kids can't get enough of each other. If Caroline and John lived on our street, they'd all play together for 10 hours straight, crash, and start all over again. I say we start a gang. Or a tribe. Get them a cool name and some jackets. A secret language and theme song.

When you're a Brett, you're a Brett...

Ok. That's enough.

Getting Organized

Yep. Pete started soccer a couple of weeks back. Not unlike another kid we all know and love. We weren't sure how he would do, quite honestly. I mean, it's no secret the kid's got...um...energy to spare. On top of that, it's a 3-year-olds class and in case you haven't guessed by the lack of birthday posts recently, Pete's birthday is still a month away. Rosalie begged him into the class at our local YMCA.

We knew he'd be able to hold his own physically. It's the listening to directions part that had us a bit worried. I mean - let's be serious here. He's a timeout champ coming off the longest, coldest winter in recent memory. He's red'ta go.

And go he did. Other than a little help from me, he did everything that was asked of him. Running from line to line. Trying to battle the natural inclination to kick the hell out of the ball (remember - they're 3) by redirecting the energy into "little kicks." Trapping. Stretching. Slide tackling. Ok, I made the last one up, but you get it. HE LISTENED!

We've gone back twice since and his audience keeps growing. He walks into the place and the 4 year old girls want his autograph. He saunters into the playroom, throws down his hoodie, grabs a juice box and holds court.

"Yeah. I play soccer. What of it?"

Go Pete.

15-Day Disabled List

Over the past couple of weeks, the managers of Team Chachi have fallen victim to a series of unfortunate events. Some inflicted by our beloved children, some self-inflicted, all painful (but recoverable!). I'm not one to use this forum to complain, so I won't. Rather, I'll just provide you with the sheer zaniness of it all.

Injury #1: Whiplash (or, Watch Out for That Oncoming Head!)
No, it wasn't a car accident. It was our younger son. Rosalie was leaning over the tub, washing his hair when he executed one of his customary, yet unintentionally violent motions and quickly raised his head up, smashing Rose between the eyes. The blow was so hard that it forced her head back and something approximating an "Muuhnnghph" came from her mouth. She was hurt. I mean - a full on helmet-to-helmet with my wife taking the brunt. A knot formed immediately - on her head, not Pete's. He was fine. Then for the next few days, she was experiencing odd neck pain. And not the standard neck pain a mother of two feels. She definitely wasn't concussed but things wasn't right. So after doing her research, Rose self-diagnosed whiplash. Take a peek at the symptoms and tell me she didn't hit the nail on the..erm...head (that was terrible).

Injury #2: Finger Avulsion (or, Yes, We Still Ate the Eggplant.)
Another injury to my bride. I won't go into the gory details other than to say that she cut a sizeable chunk of the tip of her finger off with a mandoline. Yep. Let me give you a minute to wince. She was slicing eggplant and like seasoned chef she is, was being badass and decided not to use the accompanying guard.

I was outside cleaning out the minivan when she calmly walked out, found me and said, "I may need you take me to the hospital. I think I sliced the tip of my finger off."

We both forced calmness in order to protect our sons' sensibilities but the scene itself wasn't terribly gruesome ("Um. For you it wasn't." - Rosalie). She had it wrapped up, Peter was napping and we explained to Vincent that everything was ok. After consulting with Nan, our chief RN, we headed on over the emergency room with the chunk in a bag of ice and milk. In my pocket.

Four hours, some gelfoam and a hefty bandage later and she was good to go. It's looking much better now and really, everyone says this but - it could've been much worse considering the affect a mandoline could have on one's digits.

Injury #3: Corneal Abrasion (or Time to Trim Your Nails, Kid.)
Finally, I got into the act. One night, I was placing Peter back in his bed after he had wandered into our room. He laid down, then instantly rolled over violently, with his arms outstretched and caught me right on my left eyeball. A perfect poke. I knew immediately that this wasn't your run-of-the-mill, wait for 5 minutes and its gone job. He got me good.

So as he went back to sleep, I laid down in his bed, gripping my eye, wondering what to do. I figured it might help to keep it closed, so I just fell asleep again in his bed for a few hours hoping it would heal by the morning.

Turns out corneal abrasions don't quite heal that quickly. I thought I could tough it out. I showered, shaved, changed and got ready to head out to catch my train and realized I had done all of that without the use of my left eye. That was it. I called the eye doctor, got it checked out and after a few days of drops, I was fully functional again.

The human body sure is amazing, isn't it? We've been lucky it's been us tough-assed adults and not our chilluns getting hurt. Their time will come I'm guessing.

For now - we'll start using the guard.