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I went to high school with...

The funniest joke I have is “I went to high school with a guy/girl named _____________.” That’s really all I’ve got.

Ordinary conversation will inevitably pair words together that could pass for a name. For instance, a kid may say, “I forgot my gym clothes.” Like John Nash’s numerical pattern detection in A Beautiful Mind, I automatically hear the words as a name. I will say, “I went to a high school with a kid named Jim Cloze.” Then I’ll fictionalize a one-sentence biography. “He ran the third leg of the 4 x 100 relay on our track team—fast kid.” If you don’t think that’s funny, neither does Teri. She hasn’t laughed at this type of joke since 1997—and then it was out of dating obligation. Since that laughter, I’ve told such jokes as frequently as the Pirates have lost games. And in response—if Teri is that audience—crickets.

After grocery shopping, Teri told the boys that she got—among other things whose names could not pass for classmates—Colby Jack cheese. On cue, I said, “I went to high school with a kid named Colby Jack-Cheez. I knew him in elementary school as Colby Jack, but his mother re-married a Dr. Cheez when he was in high school. Not wanting to relinquish his birth name, but wanting to comply with his mother’s wishes, he became Colby Jack-Cheez.” I found it hilarious. And I often find the silence that follows equally hilarious. But today was different. My boys were laughing. I mean laughing. Clearly, they couldn’t have followed the name change due to re-marriage, but they were laughing. Teri, unsmiling, turned from the passenger’s seat and said, “Well, you’ve got your audience.”

I’ve got my audience. Just wait until one of them says, “I need to go potty.”

I went to high school with a girl named Anita Gopottee. She…”

Matt Wieters peed

The other day, Owen was Matt Wieters, he (Owen, not Matt Wieters) took a nap. You see, he was wearing his Orioles hat, Matt Wieters shirt, baseball pants, and baseball socks. And batting glove.

The hat came off. The batting glove didn’t—a small concession for nap compliance. And the pull-up never went on. He (again, Owen not Matt Wieters--but I would guess this would apply to Wieters also) has been napping without a pull up with no leaks lately, so I thought the streak would continue. The streak didn’t continue, the leak did.

He peed. Hard. Jersey wet, pants wet. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wearing a cup that would have partially buffered the spill. Glove and socks still intact. Owen woke up crying. Sure, he was wet. But I’m sure the biggest disappointment was that he could no longer be Matt Wieters. As a noteworthy aside, Chase Utley, Derek Lee, Ryan Braun, and a numberless Pirate were all in the wash (the uniforms, not the players themselves). Thinking quickly, I assured him that he could be Caleb’s Matt Wieters (since Teri got two jerseys in Baltimore and we had extra pants). Problem solved.

When Owen left the clubhouse, I mean bedroom, he told Caleb, “Caleb, I’m wearing your Matt Wieters since I just peed in my Matt Wieters. Without looking up from his game, Caleb said, “Okay, just don’t pee in my Matt Weiters.” Never before had that conversation taken place.

All the Stuff

“Daddy, can we do all the stuff?”

The bedtime ritual continually expands. After bathing, brushing teeth, and getting peejays on, I lay on their floor and the following lineup unfolds:

1. Rhymes: I say a word, and each gets his turn at listing as many rhyming words as he can with his given word. Common question asked by Owen, “What’s the original word?”
2. Poem: Each gets to pick a topic. The go-to topic is going to the ocean. I come up with a six-line poem with three blanks. Each has to complete the line with a rhyming word. Inevitably, the first line will end with “lotion, motion, potion, or notion,” so they can be directed toward “ocean.” Owen gets it most of the time. But occasionally "beach" is his answer.
3. Completing the sentences: An example, “My favorite flavor of ice cream is __________.” Last night I did discover that Caleb would like to have 8 kids. I also found out that he doesn’t want to get married. Sounds like the NBA plan.
4. Songs: We were in a pattern of Bible songs, until Owen became afraid of “Zachias was a wee little man…” Now, pathetically, we have been singing the 1952 “I Like Ike” campaign commercial. Listen to it. You’ll be singing it too.
5. ABC’s: We collectively sing the ABC’s, each taking one letter at a time. Each time I go, I use a different voice which has to be replicated by the boys. The go-to’s are Patrick Starr and Bill Clinton. It’s custom now to sing the last word, “me” for as long as you can before passing out.
6. Presidents: It starts with “Guys, I forget. Who's the president now?” “Barack Obama.” “Who was the president before Barack Obama?” And so on: George Bush, Bill Clinton (said in Bill Clinton’s voice), the other George Bush, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford (often said by Owen in the voice of Dana Carvey impersonating Tom Brokaw with reports of Gerald Ford’s death.); Nixon…back to Woodrow Wilson.
7. I then leave to get water.
8. When I come back, we count to 30. Upon getting to 30, I say, “Say it loud, say it proud.” The boys use to take turns shouting, “Time’s up.” Now, I say it—but I must use a different voice every night. Despite the originality, they always say, “You just did that one.”
9. Owen or Caleb will ask if I can stay for three more minutes. If the time is 8:07, however, I have to stay until 8:11 since it could turn to the next minute at any second.
10. I then kiss them good night and have a little one-one-one with each.

I only write this because I never want to forget it. It won’t be long until all of this is so lame for them and I’ll be lucky to get three (or four) of their minutes. I just want to capture it and cherish each time we get to do “all the stuff.”

The last couple of nights, I told them that we were going to change it up—in part because I didn’t have 20 minutes and in part because I was tired of improvising poetry with “suntan lotion” in it. So we did words that start with, who wears this number, and what teams play in this city.

A couple of highlights:

• In words that start with “S,” Caleb said "semen." After my eyes bulged a half-inch out of their sockets, he said that’s the last name of a kid in his class. Schwoo.
• Speaking of semen (I’ve never written that introductory phrase before), when asked who wears #7, I was elated that Owen did not say “Ben Roethlisberger.” Instead, he said North Allegheny setter Michael Krepp. I’ll take Michael Krepp’s character and leadership over Big Ben’s any day.
• Andy LaRoche plays near third-base for the Pirates. Owen is fascinated with his name, which he pronounces, “Andy MaRolllsh.” Just to make Cal and I laugh, Owen always gets the question, “Who wears #15?”