Saturday we traveled a great distance to party with Zane, Whit and some of our other blog friends.

LA Daddy entertained TheMonk by giving him a nickel for a wooden train he was carrying around and then pulling a quarter out of his ear. I pocketed the thirty cents (that was 10% of a gallon of gas!) and, upon arriving at home late Saturday night, placed it on a table along with five tootsie rolls that somehow made it into my pocket. TheMonk, upon waking up the next morning, saw the quarter on the table as we made our way to breakfast and knew where it came from. “The man took that coin from my ear. That’s silly.” he told me.

Other highlights came from watching TheMonk and Ronen negotiate who gets to play with the wooden train (the same train TheMonk sold to LA Daddy for a nickle some time later). Ronen drove a hard bargain but eventually settled for a San Francisco cable car while TheMonk got to keep the coveted wooden train. (Although I think TheMonk may have thrown in his sister to sweeten the deal.)

The kids had a blast. Swee’Pea was in dog heaven and ate her weight in jelly sandwiches. TheMonk made the rounds of toys, climbing structures and sand boxes but fell in love with the trampoline. For a kid who has trouble staying on his feet on level ground, he did pretty well bouncing around.

Best of all, the kids traveled well. We hit traffic through L.A. (an accident – stupid L.A. drivers) so our trip took us about 4 hours to get home but it was worth it. We got to hang out with parents and kids and new-found friends and the kids got to shovel anything that resembled food into their mouths for an entire day. A win-win all the way around.

This morning I had an important meeting. As far as meetings go, this one was a big one. It was a suit and tie meeting with very important people. I needed to make a good impression and I needed to be on time.

Unfortunately, TheMonk decided today was the day that he was going to be grouchy. The entire morning from the moment he got up he was in a funk. If you told him his red cup was red, he’d tell you it was blue. If he told you he was done with breakfast, after you cleared his tray, he’d scream that he wasn’t finished. If you gave him one cracker, he demanded four.

I was wearing a crisp white shirt, tie and a charcoal suit and it is very difficult to wrestle with screaming, kicking two-year-old while trying to maintain a GQ look. But I managed.

After getting shoes on and struggling to get him into his car seat, all the while he was screaming for “MORE CRACKERS!”, I was able to put Swee’Pea into her car seat (who, by the way, made a point of reminding me that “I’m not crying, Daddy”) and head off to daycare.

Along the way, we happened to pass a large dump truck. Dump Trucks and tractors are like crack to TheMonk. If he sees one, he wants to see it again… and soon. Sure enough, TheMonk begins screaming “I WANNA SEE TRUCKS!! I WANNA SEE TRUCKS!!!”

We pull up to the daycare provider’s house and I get Swee’Pea out of the car first. I go around to the other side and attempt to remove TheMonk. He’s still doing his best Tasmanian Devil imitation but I manage to pull him free from his chair and set him down on the grass beside the car.

At this point another parent has arrived to drop off his extremely well-behaved kids and they all watch as I leave TheMonk flailing away and screaming on the front lawn of the daycare provider as I carry Swee’Pea to the front door as she has developed a recent phobia of cars in the street and thinks that all cars are somehow going to jump the curve and mow her down in the prime of her life.

As the daycare provider opens the door, we all turn our attention to TheMonk who is now on all fours and braying like a rented mule. I usher Swee’Pea into the door and I return to TheMonk and pick him up with my hands under his armpits. I have to extend my arms out while holding him away from my body to avoid his kicking feet. I rush him to the front door and I thrust a screaming, kicking, two-year-old to our unflappable daycare provider, mentioned I had an important meeting to get to and rushed off.

30 minutes later, I walked into my meeting, looking sharp and things went very well.

I’m pretty sure no one noticed the grassy scuff marks on my shoes.

We have begun a new ritual in our household lately.

We lay the pillows from the couch on the floor and Swee’Pea and TheMonk take turns jumping, rolling or bouncing onto the cushions. Usually there is shouting with glee. Sometimes there is crying. But I usually pull it together before Swee’Pea and TheMonk become bothered by it.

At first, there wasn’t much altitude being gained. They’d “jump” about two inches into the air and land on their butts. Before long, however, they started gaining distance and they’d jump out like a long jumper reaching for the last few inches before landing in the sand.

And while both are impressive in their jumping ability, one is clearly better at it than the other.

I’m not going to name names but if you were to know that Mommy was a high school state champion in the Long Jump and out-jumped me by a good two feet in high school and if I were also to tell you that Swee’Pea looks a lot like her mother and TheMonk’s body type clearly hails from my gene pool, then you might guess who the better jumper is…

Halloween has come and gone and we managed to make it through unscathed. We managed to keep the monsters at bay and even got out to do a little trick or treating. Swee’Pea was a “pink kitty” because, as she’ll tell you, pink is her favorite color. TheMonk was a puppy because – well, puppies just go so well with kitties, don’t they?

The evening got off to a rough start when we put TheMonk in his puppy costume to find it didn’t fit. In fact it was cutting off the circulation in his legs and restricting his oxygen intake up top. A few seams were ripped out to alleviate the pressure and he was good to go.

We hit a few houses on the street (note to neighbors, if you’re going to put out decorations, you should probably be home for trick or treaters) and then headed back to casa childsplay and doled out candy to all the Spidermen and Cinderellas in the neighborhood.

At the end of the evening, Swee’Pea and TheMonk even got to taste their very first Tootsie Roll. After seeing what it did to their teeth, we’ll probably just stick with Kit Kat from now on.

Oh, and to add to the spookiness of the evening, TheMonk kept telling me that we needed to give candy to “the boy upstairs.” He was very convincing. And while I just nodded to the Monk, I made sure I left a Hershey’s bar on the landing upstairs before we went to bed. Far be it from me to keep a little boy (ghost or no ghost) from some candy on Halloween.

Below are some photos of the kids (and one of me in my “cereal killer” costume). I hope your Halloween was free of real ghosts and the treats outweighed the tricks! What did your kids dress up as? What was your favorite costume you saw last night – both for adults and kids? (I need ideas for next year!)

It’s been four and a half months since the twins turned two. And in that time the kids have been… *whisper*frickin’ easy. I mean it. Sure, they would whine every now and then. They’d smack each other every now and then. But they were nothing like Sarah’s kids.

But lately? Oh. My. Heavenly. Father.

Swee’Pea is on the verge of becoming a certified WHINER. The only reason she hasn’t shifted into full-time whiner status is that Mommy and I refuse to play that game. The minute she starts whining is the minute we stop caring. You’d think after 2,123,952 times of not getting what she wants using the whine technique, she’d try something else. No such luck. The girl is convinced this will work. You gotta love her perseverance.

TheMonk, on the other hand, has suddenly realized that a) he is DA BOMB and b) he has choices.

Yes, TheMonk projects a ‘tude. It’s quite a sight to see all 33 inches of Monk strut around the house like he owns the place. He has this mischievous smile that says “I’m cute. And now I will use that cuteness for evil.” It’s a bit disconcerting. And even more difficult when punishing the kid. It’s like punishing a puppy. You don’t want to rub his face in it, but it’s the only way he’ll learn.

As for the “choices…” TheMonk has begun to perfect the concept of “free will.” If he doesn’t want to come when you ask him to come… he ain’t comin’. If you want him to share something, he has this way of saying “no” that makes you want to stick your head in a vice. It’s less “no” and more…

“no. No. NO. NO! NO!!” A crescendo of negativity that would make Nancy Reagan proud.

And then… there’s last night…

Last night… Or, as many of you might know it… EARLY MORNING! TheMonk decides to wake up and cry out. I jump out of bed and head down the hall expecting to pat him on the back, give a few “there… there’s” and I’m back to dream land.

TheMonk had other ideas. He wanted to go downstairs. (sound familiar?) The only difference between this time and last time was this time it was 2:15 in the freakin’ morning! Daddy was not in such a mood for cuddle time. Not that I didn’t try. I did try. Only I was hoping to sleep while we got some cuddle time. But TheMonk was adamant. He wanted to go downstairs.

Finally, after cajoling, suggesting and downright begging for him to go back to sleep, I picked him up and plopped him in his crib. As my head hit the pillow, I could hear him screaming. The clock said 2:52 a.m. About forty-five minutes later he finally had enough screaming.

As TheMonk found out, it’s a little bit harder to practice free will when you’re stuck in a crib.

Swee’Pea has taken it upon herself to defend the laws and moral codes in the Childsplayx2 household.

She is the defender of all that is right. She seeks justice whenever a deed could go unpunished. She seeks the truth and has the will to let those around her know what that truth really is.

Unfortunately for TheMonk he seems to be the main target of her “clean up this town” attitude.

Case in point:

Today TheMonk tells me “NO DADDY!” when I try to sing the ABC’s with him (he hates me singing with him – and I can’t say I blame him). Swee’Pea, realizing that TheMonk has just violated Civil Code #12-01121A (Saying NO to a parental unit), turns to TheMonk, wags her finger in his face and says…

“No saying ‘No’ to Daddy.”

“Uh, Thanks Swee’Pea for having my back” I tell her. “But I think I’ll handle it from here.”

“Um, yeah Monk.” I say as I turn my attention back to my son. “No saying ‘NO’ to Daddy.”

Actually, I think Swee’Pea was more convincing.

TheMonk has always been interested in anything having to do with electronics. Lately, he’s had his eye on Daddy’s very nice digital camera. This morning, in an effort to distract him while I got him and sister ready to leave for daycare, I handed him my camera, showed him what button to push and how to look through the view finder. He took to it faster than I would have thought. The part that really sucks is that if I was totally honest I’d have to admit that his photos are better than mine.

But judge for yourself. I give you… Photos By Monk.

Tonight, Swee’Pea and TheMonk were introduced to sushi – and all it’s accoutrements.

It didn’t start out as an introduction to sushi. Swee’Pea and TheMonk sat down to a meal of teriyaki chicken and rice while Mommy ate her Mexican Taco sushi roll and Daddy ate his Banana & Shrimp sushi roll (Hey, it’s southern California – our sushi is just different).

Before long, both Swee’Pea and TheMonk expressed a strong interest in what we were eating. I didn’t want to share so I wolfed down my banana roll as quickly as possible. I know. I’m a giver.

Mommy, however, has not yet developed her sushi-hoarding skills. However, her sushi was spicy so I think she figured Swee’Pea and TheMonk wouldn’t like it. Upon first tasting the spiciness of Mommy’s sushi sauce both Swee’Pea and TheMonk had similar reactions.

Bug Eyes followed by a quick trip to the sippy cup.

But no tears.

In fact, after they got over the initial shock, the spice was not big thing. Swee’Pea, in particular, was particularly enamored with the spice. She soon found out about the pickled ginger and kept asking for more of the “spicy pink.” She soon finished off the entire heap of ginger.

TheMonk, while eating an occasional slice of pickled ginger, was more of a “sweet” guy as he made sure to finish up his teriyaki chicken. It fits since he’s such a sweet boy.

Swee’Pea, on the other hand, has proven she is every bit as spicy as her taste.

Maybe I should change her name to “Spicy’Pea.”

We all have verbal crutches. Speaking The Queen’s English is not always an easy thing. For example, some of us say “um”, others will, like, use the word “like” a lot and then there’s the ever-popular, “You know what I’m sayin’?” You know what I’m sayin?

Anyway, as Swee’Pea has developed her impressive verbal skills and she begins stringing more and more words into longer and longer sentences, she’s become attached to the phrase “right now.”

The interesting part is that she never says it as a demand. It’s more a statement or clarification of fact.

“What are you eating right now?”
“I like that right now.”
“Where is Mommy right now?”

It is very cute and, I must admit, I’ve encouraged it a little bit by repeating her sentences, making sure to use the “right now” so she’ll repeat if for me.

“Where is Mommy right now?” I’ll repeat back.

“Yeah. Where’s Mommy right now?” She’ll say.

I know. I’m bad. So if she doesn’t make the debate team in high school, I’m the one to blame.

A few weeks ago, my beautiful wife bought a new DVD player. One that’s supposed to play DVD-RW discs that we’ve recorded from our other DVD recorder/player. (We’ve yet to figure out how to play those DVD’s, but that’s another matter.) With this DVD player came a small remote control. This remote is essential as the only buttons on the actual DVD player is the ON/OFF button, the PLAY/PAUSE button, the STOP button and the EJECT button. No fast forwarding, no choosing scenes, no viewing the menu on a standard DVD.

Well, TheMonk took a liking to this remote control, laying claim to it as soon as he saw it. “MY REMOTE!” he’d tell anyone who listened.

Needless to say, TheMonk lost “his” remote. One day it was there. The next day (and subsequent two weeks) it was not. This posed a problem. We looked high (counters, tables, drawers). We looked low (under coffee tables, couches, play pens, in shoes). It was nowhere to be found.

We feared it had been thrown away as TheMonk likes to throw things away in the trash. Since we really did need a remote, I went online and ordered a replacement. With shipping, it cost more than half what my beautiful wife paid for the entire DVD player. We are currently waiting for the remote to arrive via the U.S. postal service.

Today, it was a beautiful Southern California day. Not too hot. Not too cold. Not a cloud in the sky. A perfect “head for the beach now that the tourists are gone” day. So we loaded up a picnic lunch, grabbed a blanket and the diaper bag and headed out the door to Del Mar’s Powerhouse beach.

Upon arrival, we laid our blanket out on the green lawn overlooking the Pacific Ocean and prepared to eat before turning the kids loose on the playground that overlooks the ocean as well. Beautiful wife, realizing the kids needed sun screen, rummaged around in the diaper bag for the tube stashed away in one of the many pockets. Reaching deep within, she grasped something odd, yet vaguely familiar. As she pulled it out of the bag she let out a laugh. TheMonk, seeing what was in her hand, shouted out…

“MY REMOTE!”