Archive for the ‘Bedtime’ Category

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The ethics of Boba Fett

January 23, 2011

Tonight’s bathtime conversation with Besh.

Besh: “Daddy, is Boba Fett a good guy or a bad guy?”

Daddy: “He’s a bad guy.”

“Because he works for Jabba the Hutt?”

“Exactly.”

“But does he talk?”

“Yes.”

“When does he talk?”

“Well, remember in Empire Strikes Back he talks to Darth Vader a little bit.”

“For real?”

“Yes. They’re about to put Han into carbonite and Boba Fett tells Darth Vader, ‘He’s no good to me dead.’”

“What did that mean?”

“Well, Jabba the Hutt wanted Han Solo alive, not dead. So Boba Fett was telling Darth Vader not to kill Han Solo.”

“So instead of killing Han Solo, they put him in carbonite. See?! Boba Fett is kind of a good guy!”

“Huh. I guess you’re right.”

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The President before George Washington and brain freeze explained

July 27, 2010

Two stores, the first from Sara:

Besh had an eye checkup yesterday. We were in the bathroom at the eye MD. Besh saw an environmental awareness poster with an Indian chief and asked who the guy was. I said he was a Native American. We had the following conversation:

Besh: “What does that mean – Native American?”

Mommy: “Well, there were people who lived here before this was even our country. They are called Native Americans. He is Native American and looks like he was a chief.”

“Oh. I bet he was President even before George Washington.”

“Besh – George Washington?!?!”

“Mommy, he was the first President of the United States. For real.”

“Besh, how do you know about George Washington?”

“I read it in a book.”

The book, by the way, was one of the Magic Tree House books Besh and I (Daddy) have been reading at night. We’re up to #25 out of around 44. Oy.

The second story is mine:

Last night I was sitting with Besh as he had some frozen yogurt for dessert. He huffed at one point and then looked at me.

Besh: “Brain freeze!”

Me: “Oh!”

“You know, brain freeze is like winter. It’s like you ate winter and it went in your throat.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For real.”

In case you didn’t know, “For real” is now the ultimate trump card in Besh’s book. For real.

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At least he didn’t throw a tomato

December 30, 2008

Many nights, during bath time, Besh and I will sing a song or two in the tub.  For the last few weeks, although it has felt more like a bazillionty years, he’s wanted to sing Feliz Navidad (where he leaves out the word “heart” on the last line of English, but still holds the long note, so it comes out “From bottom of myyyyYYYYYyyyyyyYyYyYy”).  Last night, he was grooving on “Good Morning, Baltimore,” his favorite song from Hairspray (which we had watched in the theater the night before and in the car that night).

After bath we went into his room to get into pajamas.  I was holding up the pajama pants, not realizing I was humming the song.  Once he got both legs in the PJ pants he gave me a big kiss.

“I kiss your cheek,” he said.  “Stop singing now.”

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Mommy is a pancake man!

December 5, 2008

Tonight as I was taking Besh out of the bathtub, the following conversation took place as I dried him off:

Me: “Besh!  Tomorrow is Saturday!  You know what that means?”

Besh: “No school tomorrow for Besher!  No work tomorrow for Daddy!”

“That’s right.  Daddy and Mommy and Besher all get to have breakfast together.  Do you want pancakes?”

“Oh yes!”

“Do you know who makes the best pancakes in the world?”

“Mommy!”

Dried, but wrapped in the towel, I carried him into his room but we saw Mommy using the computer.  I quickly recapped the story to her.

Besher: “You make pancakes, Mommy?”

Mommy: “I would love to make pancakes for you.”

Besher gives Mommy the double thumbs up and says “That’s right!  You’re the pancake man!”

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Now that’s a sandwich!

November 11, 2008

Tonight, in the bathtub, Besh was grabbing the foam letters that are lying around (and around and around and around) and making them into a sandwich.  

“And a piece of bread…” he grabs a letter.

“And another piece of bread…” another letter.

“And some mustard.”  Nice.

“And some cheese.”  Good foundation.

“And some macaroni.”  Uh oh.

“And some orange.”  Okay, it’s fusion.

“And some lemonade.”  Not fusion.

“And some fries.”  Oh, it’s a hoagie.

“And some pancakes.  Yummy!”

I was going to ask for a bite, but it was time to rinse the shampoo.

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The toddler trinity

September 24, 2008

Cast of characters in this post:

Baxter — A smallish dog that lived at the hotel we stayed at in Tahoe this past summer.

Belo — The main clown from the Ringling Brothers circus.

Chuck E Cheese — Not Mickey Mouse.

Our players thus established, last night I put Besh to bed and this was the final conversation.

Me: “Night night, Besh.”

Besh: “Night night.”

“Close your eyes so you can dream, okay?”

“Okay.  I dream of Baxter and Belo and Chuck E Cheese!”

There you have it.  The Toddler Trinity.

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Who needs GPS?

September 22, 2008

After bathtime in our room, I carried him into his room.  On the way I closed the door, in case he made a break for it later.

“No, Daddy, don’t close the door!”

“Why?  You don’t need to go in there.”

“No, keep it open.  I might get lost.”

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