I've got a 12-sided die

Liam is in a Lego Mindstorms camp this week. We had him skip the intro camp and put him in the 2nd level one since he's had one for a few years. First off, although summer "camp" brings up images of lakeside cabins and pimply counselors, for Liam and Erin's age this is typically a week-long sports or learning class. There are many, many different camps from chess camp to mountain biking camp to guitar camp..... there's probably a video game camp or a High School Musical camp. In fact, I guarantee both those exist in NW Atlanta without even bothering to Google.

Anyway, to give an indication of what type of kid Liam's likely going to be a) he completely loves it, and b) the other day he came home all excited with the announcement that the instructor was going to give each kid their own USB flash drive at the end of the week so they could keep their programs.

However, I'm starting to reconsider our general disdain for video games. Every once in a while, I'll show the kids some random game on the computer... usually something very basic. Now I pretty much gave up games after college - hmmm, I figured I had blogged about this but apparently not.... something for the future - let's just say it involves the morning sun peeking in the windows and me creating a Doom level based on my apartment at the time... Anyway, I haven't really played games seriously for over 15 years and I can still easily beat my 9-year old son.

That ain't right.

The horror

Last night, Liam and I were shooting Nerf guns at each other in the backyard when we noticed a little bird fluttering around. Of course, we couldn't stop trying to kill (ie., two hits) each other for that so Erin ran over and realized it was a baby bird that apparently had fallen from it's nest. It was scared and was hiding under an old toy kitchen set that I had put under the deck a year or so ago to await it's eventual dump run.

I quickly dispensed with my foe who was spending more time picking up bullets than he was dealing with me - a deadly error - and shuffled the kids inside so that hopefully the momma bird would rescue the chick. That happens, right?

Excitedly, Erin ran around collecting bits of cloth, grass, and sticks in a shoebox to make a home for what she dearly hoped would be her soon-to-be patient. I told her not to go out back and disturb the situation as we wanted the momma bird to get her baby back, right? Of course, Erin didn't want this to happen... she wanted to take care of the chick. But she agreed that it would be better for the bird.

So we cleaned up and ate dinner (ironically, it was rotisserie chicken). After, Erin went out to check on the bird. A few moments of quiet ensued followed by a sudden blast of a bawl... a very loud, heart-wrenching wail! She came back in screaming about something having killed and eaten the baby chick and then I realized what had happened.

A little over a week ago, I found the remains of a dead rodent of some sort in a remote area of our back yard... actually, I had stepped with a bare foot into a particularly squishy part of said remains which even as I write this sends a disgusted shiver through me. After the ants and bugs had removed most of the "icky bits" I gingerly picked up the skull with a stick and put in a spot that gets a fair amount of direct sun so it would dry out but not be very conspicuous.

This spot happened to be at the edge of the deck right next to where the bird had cloistered itself where Erin jhad, to her horrow, discovered it assuming it was the freshly-slayed head of her desired pet baby bird.

After I quickly explained the situation, she was fairly easily consoled. The bad news was she ddidn't get a pet but at least it was ssafe and happy with it's mother.... or so I hope!

Piledriver

First off, I'm not taking a hiatus... I just have to get a few things done on the computer at home for the next week or so and that's gonna take up my freetime but I'll try to get in a little... maybe post about last weekend's latest camping fiasco where I decided to stand in the pouring rain for a few hours rather than get in that kid-crazy tent.

Speaking of freetime, Finn is taking up quite a bit of it. He is at that age where he doesn't do anything you say and he never wants to sleep so he's screaming half the time. Unfortunately, even if he had some comprehension of time-out, we have no real place to put him like we did with the other kids. Plus I usually play with him when I get home to give Kerry a break and with my efforts to jog in the morning because of the summer heat, I've got to get in bed by around 10 if I want a halfway decent night's sleep... which doesn't happen much...

By the way, he's "talking" a lot and doing the parrot thing. He hasn't quite mastered jumping other than on the bed. He's a pretty physical little guy and gets a kick out of me shoving him in the chest with one hand and knocking his legs out from under him with the other when he's on the bed. This hurls him flat on his back giggling, ready for another slam, and mad when I stop.