The Deanery dad epidsode #3

Squawk has once again proven that he is indeed a clone of his uncle and by that a little bit of his Grandpa.
It was your average Mormon Sunday with Mom and Dad trying to find anything for the boys to do besides watch TV and play with electronics or beating each other. In doing so, the book titled The Dangerous Book for Boys by Hal Iggulden made it into Squawk's hands. I don't know if you know of this book, it is a must have for all boys with dads. I can imagine many a Saturday wasted with father and son and this book. It covers topics from Latin and MVPs of Baseball to making paper hats and planes and tying knots.
Squawk was sitting next to me as he thumbed through the book. He looked at many different pages but stopped on this page.



He looked at the gun and asked me, "Daddy, what is that?" I told him in my best Charlton Heston voice. He then went to the next page.


"Daddy, what are these used for?" I explained that they are used to skin the bunny rabbit after you have used the gun to hunt it. Then you eat it.
Without skipping a beat, he turns to his older brother and says, "Monkey, let's go do this to that rabbit at church."
If that doesn't validate his heritage, nothing does. Here's to you "Bud"
Oh and a little P.S. - Bud, your time spent with Squawk is to be monitored at all times until the age of 18.
Post P.S. Come to think of it, I haven't seen that rabbit lately.

The Deanery Dad Episode #2

It is great to be King. If even for a day. While Ginky was in nursery they helped him draw a picture. The question was, "what do you love about Mommy?" This was the answer.

Great answer right? The only problem is that it wasn't my day to be King, it was her day to be Queen. This was what Ginky brought home on Mother's Day. Sweet little boy.

The Deanery dad epidsode #1

Although the correct answer to the question What is your most honored title? should probably be husband, I favor another, Daddy. (I couldn't be a daddy without the first title, so technically it salutes both parenthood and spouse.) There are many great things about being a father, most of which involve giggling children, getting hit by a ball when you are not paying attention to the latest Orel Hershiser in the house (even better when the wife isn't paying attention) and Vespa rides together.
Today's episode involved a pair of shoes. You see, I was getting ready for work this morning. I was alone in a house that had no obvious sign of life except for slight little whir from from my asthmatic son sleeping soundly on my bed, yet again. I knew my wife had been up till 1 in the A.M. and again at 4 with that same asthmatic kid. Since I figured she was tired I didn't wake her when I couldn't find my shoes.
You have to know that I am anal. I had a mission nick name Anal Boy. I like things clean and I like things in order. Being that way, I have two places and only two places that I put my shoes in 1 of 2 places. Either at the front door or in my closet. This morning I checked both places and there was no shoes. Not at the front door, nor the closet. I went back and forth looking, believing I must surely have missed them. After 10 minutes, and the getting close to the time that I needed to leave for work, I finally started looking everywhere, bathrooms, under beds, behind the sub woofer. All yielded no fruit.
I finally gently awoke the wife and asked her if she knew where my shoes were located. She said, without hesitation, "outside." I turned and looked out the window and about 10 yards apart were my shoes. It seems my 8 year old was told he had to have shoes on to go outside, and he was obedient.
I laughed, put my shoes on and went to work with a smile on my face. These silly things are what make being a dad great.
Thanks, Monkey and good job being obedient, but try putting your own shoes on next time.

They have friends?

I don't exactly remember what grade I was in, probably 3rd. At that time, my life was very sheltered. My day was very much a routine. I got up at 6 A.M. made my bed, brushed my teeth, enjoyed my cream of wheat which had a condensed milk in it to sweeten it and then sat there waiting for school to start. My foster mom and I walked to school every day. I went through school and then walked home. Once home, I showered, put my pajamas on and was set for the evening. That was approximately 4:45. Then I waited for bed. 8 o'clock, sharp.

Rinse, repeat. Sunday through Saturday.

One day something strange happened. I was invited to a birthday party for a set of twins in my class. (I bought them a deck of face cards.) When I got to their house I noticed a bunch of the kids that were there were really familiar with the house. It was at that time I realized, these guys have friends. Real friends, they hung out, they might have actually even seen each other on Saturday.
It wasn't that I was a total loser, it was that the opportunity never presented itself. I didn't know you could do such a thing. I didn't know that kids met with other kids. As far as I knew, all the kids in my class lived in Rancho Cucamonga (That one is for you Scott! - spell check not activated)
The reason I even mention this is because the other day I got a phone call on my cell phone of all things and I hear a little boy on the other end ask, "Is L*** there?" I let him know that he was not and that I would forward the little guys number to the eldest child and he could call him back.
On the scale of phone conversations the shortest being me talking to either of my wicked sister-in-laws and the longest being my wife talking to my wicked sister-in-laws, these two boys who are obviously like those kids I witnessed at the party, friends, are closer to the wife with said wicked sisters. L*** even got a call this morning at 7:15 asking if he wanted to play on Webkins with him. (online animal community with games) All of the Dibb family would love to watch him talk. He is just like Grandpa. He paces and he paces all over the house when he talks on the phone.
It proves once again, my kids are cooler than I am. Yea for them. Well at least one of them is. I still have hope that K will be my recluse and just hang out with dear old dad forever.
P.S. At least L isn't showing interest in girls yet.

A Christmas Story

Christmas has many traditions; some good like eggnog. Some not so good like a months torture listening to Celine Dion's Christmas album, saying no to every one that invites us to visit for Christmas or working 6 0r 7 work weeks. (whine,whine, whine) Wifey and I never making it to Christmas before giving each other our gifts (I got one today.)

This year, I started something new. I am collecting a little village. See if you recognize it.

I found these at Sears last year. There are classic movies like It's a Wonderful Life or Charlie Brown's Christmas but for me this is "The" classic. It has so many great things about a boy's life. Dealing with a bully, an overprotective mom, and a Dad's ill communications and those horrible gifts from the aunts. It is Monkey-boy's request that the maker of the village make a figurine with Ralphie in the bunny suit. I just tivo'd A Christmas Story and I can't wait to watch it with the boys.

Deck the halls with braws of rarwry. Far ra ra ra rawwh - ra ra ra rawwh!!!!!

I guess the idea is Merry Christmas. I hope you get to enjoy what ever it is that makes your holidays perfect.

I wish there was a blog when I was young

Although I have to say up front that I do agree with the idea that our children put too much of themselves out there for others to see through all of the avenues available now, (facebook, myspace, blogs) I do have to admit that I might have enjoyed knowing a little more about those I have never gotten to know and those I could have used the upper hand in knowing.
Perhaps there was a kid in high school that was in love with Robotech like I was in 5th grade. I might have found some great friends who liked to play baseball ALL day long or ride bikes around the school campuses. Maybe I could have found out a little more about my teachers. I always tried to find out their political party in high school, or if they were card carrying members of the WWF (Ohhh, now that is a blog I need to share one day, wrong WWF though) or the ACLU. Perhaps I could have figured out that Johnny in 7th grade knew a little Kar-ra-teh and save my good friend Keith from that butt whoopen he took, but most of all I wish I had it for the fathers of the girls I dated.
I dated a girl whoes father I only met once. Have you ever seen one of the houses where the dad has the hunting trophies all over the wall? (if you haven't, visit Monroe Utah, they have a few there) Well this guy was that way except there where no carcuses, just hats. He must have had 100 hats on the wall. I don't know if he got up in the morning and decided which hat to wear with his outfit or which outfit to wear with his hat. If he had a blog, I might have known.
When I date Alli, I would have shown up playing MoTab. Just Kidding, but I might have thrown my guitar in the passanger seat and played my Bob Dylan tape loud enough for him to hear it, or better yet some Doctor Demento or Wierd Al.
Meeting my father in law through his blog would have told me how to work for a bank and only work 12 days a year, golf for free 350 days and still some sucker corporation to pay him for 365. Wisdom lost. I would have at least gone out and learned how to hit a golf ball. Shanking a ball all day would have given me a better chance of respect than swinging twenty times each time before I finally hit the ball. I single handedly backed up the course at the teeing off spot on just the first hole. Good thing it was a nuetral golf course and not his home course. Maybe that is the reason he wore such a wide rim on his hat. I would have found some book of good old stories to tell. Perhaps a few tall tales? Paul Bunyon and Babe? Not professed for my dislike for BYU so much so soon. Definitly could have prevented some mistakes there.
But alas, I didn't. I do however recognize that my future daughters-in-law have a unfair advantage. They have a blog. Perhaps I will be lucky enought that my boys will be too embarassed to let them know what it is. Perhaps reading will be a thing of the past by that time and since the blog is not an audio file, they won't visit. But most likely they will. They will know all the things they need to know to soften me up. They would know that I would really be impressed if a said young lady showed up with a pint of Ben & Jerrys Cherry Garcia and a 20 oz. bottle of Hawaiin Punch to go with it, or showed up and professed to thier love of the Lakers especially vintage 80's Laker teams. Maybe one of them will get a job at the local theater and invite my son and me to watch the new release. I could possibly be bribed to let the boys date at 15 1/2 for that one, it would be a group date right?
So yes, I give a lot of myself away to my online audience, I do set myself up to be vonurable, but if these young ladies are smart they would tell me some embarassing stories about their father and we could do it over a couple of pints. . . of ice cream.

Senior Stud

Alright ladies. . . control yourselves. (Thanks to Elena for saving these pictures.) These are the only pictures I have and they are scanned. On the left I was a Junior. On the right, I was a Senior.

Thanks for suggesting this Wifey.

As for clothes, my favorites were shorts and a simple tee. In the late 80's I loved I.O.U. sweaters and Billabong clothing wich I still wear today. ooh, and I had a hard time giving up the roll on those jeans.