Category Archives: Destroy

Career Day Conversation in the Car

Call Sign

On the drive home from school today, Destroy began to muse about his past and future.


transcribed by Mommy

Superheroes can fly really fast. We saw real superheroes at our birthday party when we were 4. But you know what’s faster than superheroes? Fighter jets. They go fastest of all.

This year for when I’m 5, I want to bring donuts to school and have a jet party. The superheroes can come and paint jets on the wall.

Then, when I get really big like Papa, I’m going to fly a jet. It’s going to go so fast. And it will be a fast fire jet because it will have fire that comes out of it.

Hey Mommy, hey Mommy. Mommy. Also in my so fast fire jet that does the fighting I’m going to have a parachute rope on my back. Then I will jump so high and fly away from my fighter jet down on the ground and catch bad guys like Daddy.

Yeah. I’m gonna catch bad guys. But then I’ll fly super fast in my orange and white jet.

No Mommy, it’s a FIRE jet. Not a fighter jet. I’ll be the fighter with the parachute rope *in* the fire jet. Because the jet shoots orange and white fire.

Can we go to the store and get a flight suit? Actually I just want a flight shirt. But I need a flight suit pilot costume for my birthday. Maybe I can wear my superhero cape with it. But first I need to be 5 and go to kindergarten.

I got a rock for you at school today.


I am unsure if he is explaining an early dedication to serving his country as a special forces paratrooper or simply an overabundant viewing of Disney Planes.

Regardless, I now have the image of a little Top Gun Maverick living in my house. I doubt it’s too far off from the actual persona he’s trying to cultivate; he recently served a timeout at school for an impromptu performance solo of Old MacDonald in the library. (Preschool version of You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling? Perhaps the cows lost their moo?)


(Not my kids. But brilliant idea.)

In any case, I have no doubt our future leads down a highway to the danger zone.

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Stop Acting Like a Child

Logan_Sad Batman_01-19-15

On Friday I received two letters. The first was from a school the boys will attend in the future, the second from their current educational institution. Continue reading


Monsters on the Wall


I heard moaning and the distinct floor creeks announcing the urgent pitter-patter of little feet racing toward me. When I blearily looked at the clock red fuzzy lines across my room, they formed somewhat of a 4 a.m. shape.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! I hafta go pee pee!!!” a potty-dancing Destroy whimpered. He darted into the bathroom and I waved him back to bed with a hug. I thought that was the end of that.

It wasn’t. Continue reading

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Chivalry Isn’t Dead Yet


We’re living in a society of every man for himself. Articles across these here interwebs decry the decay of manners and etiquette. So it’s up to me to raise my muppets to one day serve as productive members of society.

Search and Destroy. Future gentlemen. Continue reading

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Wordless Wednesday: The Summer Bucket List

Summer vacation is upon us.

I think Search wants to go on a boat…

Caden's Bucket

Search’s Summer Bucket List:

  • Paint an easter basket
  • Drive the boat
  • Swim in Grand Papa’s pool
  • Go on a boat

Logan's Bucket

Destroy’s Summer Bucket List:

  • Play airplanes
  • Bake cake
  • Play trucks
  • Go to school
  • Play with the train table


Pooping for Prizes


Destroy wouldn’t poop in the potty. We were pretty sure it wasn’t a gastrointestinal issue. So by the time we’d reached the dosage of two full adult servings of Miralax per day, it was time to take a stand.

There is no doubt my son is stubborn beyond his years. But so is his mother – who also boasts 30 years additional practice in the art.

The decision was made to keep the boy home from school. He would stay home and experience the full effects of Miralax. There would be no TV, no park dates, no fun – not until poop plopped into the potty.

Being 4, he fought against physics. He would not poop. Would. Not. Poop. It was then that Jon and I learned Destroy’s issues were purely a control issue. He would hold it, hold it, then hold it some more. Ultimately it would no longer be a decision (two adult doses of stool-softening powder will do that to a 38-pounder) and the Pompeii of poops would rock the afternoon.


The weekend arrived. I told Search to get ready to go. One of his preschool girlfriends was having a birthday party. I don’t think Destroy actually thought we’d leave him behind.

We did.

Search and I had a blast.

There was a pony.

There was a pony.

We decided to continue our one-on-one date – Search needed new shoes, so we headed to the mall where the ever-growing little man picked out light up Spiderman shoes. We then decided to stop by the Disney Store.

(Yes, I’m a horrible mother who was trying to play brothers against one another.)

Search got a new toy train. “Mommy, I think Destroy needs a helicopter.” (Cue being shamed by my 4-year-old. He is a better person than I.)

He is also smarter than me. Within in minutes of walking in the door, his brother high on the rush of birthday cake and pony boasts, Destroy announced, “I don’t poop in my pants now. I poop in the potty and I need my helicopter.”

Two days later we were still accident free! Prizes and celebrations abounded.

Four days later we were still accident free.

GrammaJ: Did he poop today?
Me: No.
GrammaJ: He pooped his pants?
Me: No.
GrammaJ: So he’s still using the potty?
Me: No.

On the fifth day we experienced a full-blown proper muppet meltdown. He’d been ornery all day at school, even starting a few fights. I wasn’t surprised. His tummy probably hurt. I strongly encouraged him to spend some time on the potty.

This was not a well-received statement.

As he flailed about, crocodile tears flowing, fists clenched, feet stomping, he finally shouted a semi-coherent statement.


(This kid was so full of shit.)

Alas, due to his behavior, there was no consumption of cookies that evening.

Morning didn’t go any better. However, during the fight to clothe the kid, he discovered swim goggles purchased for our upcoming beach trip. These were much more exciting than the prospect of pants.

“Poop first,” I demanded through clenched teeth.

Destroy decided he wanted those goggles. Bowels were cleared. We were creating a monster. He needs a bribe to poop every time?

It was a reversal of monkey’s flinging poo. Instead he apparently planned to hold it until Mom broke down and made with the bribe. But then again, we were saving a lot of money on the underwear that we no longer threw away daily…

Apparently he didn’t get it all out with that morning bribe though. When I picked him up, he’d started poop #2 in his pants and was trying to convince his teacher he still deserved a prize from the poop chest. (This is a thing.)

He didn’t get a prize. He wouldn’t be allowed to watch his coveted Disney Jr. Octonauts. And he didn’t take his nap; he’d participated in a preschool dance party instead. Because his tummy hurt, he refused to eat his snack.

All effects combined, my constipated hypoglycemic kid was about to stage the prequel to the hunger games. MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN MY FAVOR.

Just before bath time, I heard a blood curdling banshee wail. “I got all wet!” (This was problematic since we hadn’t yet started bath.)

He’d raced to the bathroom to pee. Then decided he needed to poop. He spun around to sit his little tushy down.

He fell into the potty.

But he pooped!

I think I won.


How to Live Up to Your Nickname


Nana is the one who initially dubbed her expectant grandsons Search and Destroy. Destroy heard those words from within and declared, “Challenge accepted!”

On the final day of our Oregonian excursion, we were herding our horde of hamsters into the rented DadMobile when Jon’s eyes went wide. A gash was newly imprinted on the car next to us. Destroy was happily climbing into his car seat and buckling himself right in. Even when he’s behaving he seems to strive for destruction. Continue reading


Wordless Wednesday: Living up to a nickname


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Not a Good Night

Red moon

It was a gorgeous afternoon. Soft white puffy clouds danced like animals on parade through the columns of sunshine that shone down upon the young children playing in the yard. A cool breeze rustled wisteria blooms and the scent of jasmine wafted through the air.

Search was counting hockey pucks, while Destroy fired his foam football across the yard. Our dogs chased after their humans with a desecrated tennis ball and hopes they could get in on the game of catch. It was the idyllic moment every parent dreams about – a loving family with laughter echoing from the walls of a suburban bungalow.

And then Destroy yawned. Continue reading

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Wordless Wednesday: School Photos

There was once a time when school photos were relegated to the abyss of a proud grandparents wallet. Now Mommy has a blog.





Let the chaos commence.

Let the chaos commence.

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