In case you missed it...

OK. I've been extraordinarily lazy lately. So, to make up for it, here are all of Isaac's little quips, questions and comments from the past month as posted on facebook and/or twitter.

Me (pointing to a buffalo at the museum): Isaac, do you know what that is?
Isaac: Yup, I do.
Me: What is it?
Isaac: A Bantha!
Me: Not quite.
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Isaac: Is it Sunday?
Me: No, it's Saturday. New Year's Day.
Isaac: What happens in this month?
Me: Um...
Isaac (with concern in his voice): Is this when the leprechauns come out?
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Isaac (presenting 3 saliva-encased unpopped popcorn kernels): Worst. Nuts. Ever!!
Me: What?
Isaac: These nuts almost broke my teeth!
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Isaac: I want to have a tattoo shop in the living room. And a restaurant in the kitchen. And a bookstore in the dining room. We can teach people to read, and have books like a library. And we can make houses and clothes for people who don't have them. And we can make food for people who don't have food. And we can all live together and help each other.
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Isaac (on his new camouflage water bottle): Dad, do you like my new water bottle? It's Army.
Me: Awesome!
Isaac: If you drop it in the grass, you won't see it because it looks like grass, but if you drop it on the sidewalk, you can see it still.
Me: Nice!
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Isaac: Hey dad, come read your book by me.
Me (getting off the chair to sit by Isaac on the couch): OK. Do you want me to read it to you?
Isaac: Yeah. But read with your mouth closed.
Me: You don't want me to read it to you?
Isaac: No.
Me (moving back to my chair): OK. I'll just go back over there.
Isaac: OK. Good.
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Isaac: Someday, when I'm older, I'm going to tell Jack Black that he's in a lot of movies.
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In the middle of Isaac's fairly accurate explanation of geysers, he included "If you want to grill something, you have to kill it first" and "DON'T boil the ice cream." Explanation, please?
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Isaac: Dad, I need to take something to my room. But don't worry about what it is. I am able to make my own decisions, OK?
Me: Why are you taking that to your room?
Isaac (clearly carrying a meat-tenderizer): In case bad guys come, I can smash them with this.
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Isaac (kissing Brenda goodnight): Mom, you should brush your teeth; your breath is stinky. You, too, dad. Yours is stinky. You both have lots of germs in your mouth.
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Isaac: Dad, when the snow melts, and we go into the forest, you're probably going to want to wear camouflage. OK? Mom and I will set up equipment so we can catch dinner. OK?
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What forest? When did my son become such a survivalist? Did he watch "Red Dawn" recently?
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Isaac woke me up this morning by standing about 6" from my face and singing the first verse of "Working" by Cock Sparrer." He's so punk!
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Isaac is watching 'Batman' and doing a great job of writing the names of the characters in the movie. However, his attempt at "batmobile" came out as "batbowel." Well played, son. You're clearly ready to label people as bat-shit-crazy.
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Isaac recommended that Brenda and I watch "Nosferatu" for Valentine's Day after he and Rosie go to bed. He is going to be a real honey-dripper when he gets older!
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Isaac is telling me about a maple syrup from China that tastes great on Japanese food. The best part is that I'm not asleep or dreaming.
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The Headliner at Farm Aid 2011

You're so (inexplicably interested in) vein(s).

Here's a video of Isaac explaining how veins work.

Droppin' science. More specifically, Biology.

Lately, Isaac has some kind of interest in explaining how various bodily processes occur. Not really sure what the basis of his knowledge is, but I'll accept his reasoning. Below is a video in which Isaac explains how babies form.

Not Quite Homophones.

This past August, Isaac began kindergarten. As a result, his desire to write and try to read has exploded. His mother and I find this to be a great thing. Just a week ago, while out and about, Isaac asked if we could buy him a journal and some pencils so he could do his "homework." Of course, we obliged. i took him to the store and let him pick out his own journal and pencils. Since that night, we spend time nearly everyday sitting with Isaac as he sounds out words and writes them down. It's one of the greatest things! He tells us a word and then spells it. We typically coach him, but make him do the work himself. As parents, we are thrilled. The one result of school and his new journal is his expanded vocabulary. He's been using (and trying to use) all kinds of new words that he hears at home and from his teacher. Sometimes, however, he uses the wrong word.

Isaac: Dad...Rosie stinks. Will you light some insects?
Me: Some what?
Isaac: Some instincts?
Me: You mean "incense?"
Isaac: Yeah, she stinks.

Isaac (opening his mouth very wide): Dad, look.
Me: Yeah, I know.
Isaac: How did you know that I have a fossil?
Me: You mean an "ulcer?"
Isaac: Yeah, an ulcer.

God love him. He still speaks more cleverly and coherently than many adults I meet. As a side note, although his fossils are better, Rosie still stinks.

Look out, Head & Shoulders.

Me: Alright, time to wash your hair.

Isaac: I don't want to wash my hair.

Me: Why not?

Isaac: Because when I put shampoo on my head, it feels like zombies kissing my brain.

Me: That sounds kind of cozy.

I was going to include an image of a zombie with soap/shampoo all over him/herself but couldn't find anything suitable. I was surprised, however, at some of the images that came up when I googled "zombie shower." There were more images depicting sex outside of showers than there were images of shower/soap-related activities...or zombies, for that matter Weird.

Somebody must inform Ted Nugent.

Right as I was getting ready to start this post, I realized that my last post, like this one, had to do with Isaac's vast imagination. So, without further ado, here yet another installment of Isaac's patented brand of psychedelic storytelling; complete with my own editorials:

Isaac: Hey, dad.

Me: Yeah?

Isaac: Did I tell you what happened when I went to grammy's house a couple of weeks ago?

Me: What was that?

Isaac: Um, grammy took me for a walk in the forest. (This is total bullshit. My parents live nowhere near a forest and they certainly would not be walking through said forest even if one was handy.) And we saw a little squirrel.

Me: OK?

Isaac: And I bent down to pet it. (Again, this never could have happened. We have about a half-dozen very brazen squirrels around our house who couldn't care less about people. They just like to sift through our compost pile and rummage through our recycling. One actually pulled a knife on me last week (OK...this is not true.).)

Me: Really?

Isaac: Yeah! And then four hunters came along and one of them put a missile in his gun and shot the squirrel. (Here is where he went for the gold and, unfortunately, it cost him my respect. You see, spinning a yarn is one thing, but lying straight to one's father's face is another. First of all, what squirrel would remain still while not one, but FOUR hunters load weapons of mass destruction into their rifles? Only a dead one. Also, I'd like to think that my mother ("grammy"), would have had the common decency to remove Isaac from the situation rather than supply him with goggles and earplugs as Isaac would probably have me believe. Now, as far as the idea of hunters using excessive force to exterminate a small woodland creature goes, that is totally feasible. Better luck next time, Isaac.)

Me: Wow! That sounds pretty crazy. I'll have to ask grammy about that.

Isaac: No, don't. She was scared.

So it goes. They just keep getting better and better. There are actually a few more stories that I have in the works including an explanation from Isaac as to how veins work. Just wait until you hear that one!

Even tusken raiders need to eat.

As Isaac gets older, his imagination gets better. For quite a while now, he has become increasingly more and more interested in making up names for characters who don't really have names. For example, if I was to ask him for the names of the biker scouts in "Return of the Jedi," he would make something up. What's even better is that he ofter creates back-stories for the characters, as well. Today, he did both.

While playing his Star Wars Lego game for the Wii, Isaac called me into the living room to inform me of the following:

The tusken raiders (sand people) were, in fact, brothers who lived together in the desert. He rattled off 4 or 5 names, all ending with "-antro" before telling me that the last brother was named "Cilantro." I reasoned that "Cilantro" must be the chef of the group. Isaac did not correct me, so I trust that my assumption must have been correct.

Hannibal Lecter

If your son or daughter ever asks you to close your eyes and ears, don't do it. I did and it almost cost me my nose.

One evening last week, while Isaac and I were playing, he out of the blue asked if he could bite my nose. This struck me as an odd request, so I just laughed and declined his strange offer.

We continued playing with Legos, or Star Wars figures or plutonium or whatever it was that we were using at the moment, the nose biting offer well behind us. Then, a few minutes later, Isaac asked me to close my eyes. Suspecting nothing out of the ordinary (for some reason), I obliged. His next request should have tipped me off that something weird was going to happen, but again, I obliged. It was only after I felt warm breath on my face that I opened my eyes to find my nose IN Isaac's mouth. He was trying his hardest not to laugh which made the whole scene that much better.

I'm still not sure what triggered his desire to eat my face, but I can appreciate his drive and determination to make his dream a reality.

Now that's no bull!

Isaac (while watching TV): I want to wrestle a bull.
Me: Why?
Isaac (with a "DUH!" tone in his voice): So I can eat it.

Famine, be damned!!/Go figure!!!

While eating dinner a few nights ago, Isaac said:

"Dad, I wish I had a machine so if I said 'I want a potato,' it would make me one."

And I don't think he intended "make me one" to mean "bake it in the oven for 30 minutes before applying butter and presenting to me with a fork." But rather, "construct one on my behalf." Now, there's a kid whose not afraid to dream big.

For quite a while now, Isaac has been pestering me to let him take my Doyle action figure out of the box. For anyone who doesn't know who Doyle is, he was/is the guitar player for legendary horror-punk band, the Misfits. My reason for wanting Doyle to remain in his (coffin-shaped) box had nothing to do with maintaining its value. In fact, it's most likely still worth about $14.99 like it was 14 years ago. No, my goal in keeping his boxed had much more to do with not wanting his guitar, bicep bands or Frankenstein neck-bolts to find themselves in "missing" status. But, today, I broke down and let Isaac play with the 12" figure. So, since about 5:00 this is all Isaac has cared about. He made me tell him about the other members of the band, he listened to a bunch of songs and he has been carrying and talking to Doyle as if he was real. I'm thrilled! For me, a grand opportunity has presented itself to get my son familiar with something I still thoroughly enjoy.

Isaac has always had an interest in action figures of all kinds, Star Wars, He-Man, Transformers and G.I. Joes are all present and accounted for in this house. But tonight, he asked something that someone should have asked Kenner 30 years ago:

Isaac: Dad, who made the Star Wars theme song?
Me: John Williams.
Isaac: Do they make an action figure of him?
Me: They SHOULD.

What a great idea from such a little man! Why wouldn't someone create a figure to commemorate the man responsible for creating one of the greatest themes known to man? Perhaps he could have scored all the times my He-Man figures made out with my sister's Barbies.

Stick and Bindle.

Isaac: One dollar? That's not a bad paycheck!

Indeed, hobos would find this to be a fair wage for a day's work.

A lesson in anatomy.

Just because I haven't posted much lately does not mean that Isaac has suddenly traded in his habit of saying awesome things in favor of more adult conversation. In fact, last night, while he and I were watching a documentary on the Pixies entitled "LoudQUIETLoud," he broke me off a piece of the following. He was eating chocolate pudding with strawberries while we were watching the flick. As 5-year old boys are wont to do, he had gotten some chocolate on his face, hands...and legs.

Me: How was it, Isaac?
Isaac: Good.
Me: Here's a napkin for your face and hands.
Isaac: Thanks.
Me: Is that some on your leg? (It was clearly on his leg.)
Isaac (wiping it off his leg): Maybe. No.
Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was.
Isaac (grinning from ear to ear): No, it was my bellybutton.
Me: Your bellybutton?
Isaac (pulling his collar down, exposing his left nipple): Yeah, see? Like this.
Me: That's your nipple.
Isaac: My nipple?
Me: Yeah.
Isaac: Oh, I've got nipples all over the place.

And there ya have it. Just when you think Isaac might be in hiding or putting away his innocent ways, he comes out of nowhere and shoves a nipple right in your face.

Lost in Translation

I'm not entirely certain what started all of this, but a week or so ago, while sitting at the dinner table, Isaac began talking about speaking Chinese and whether or not Brenda and/or I spoke Chinese. This went on for a little while before I finally asked Isaac if he spoke Chinese. After taking a moment to consider the question, he stuck out the pointer finger of his left hand and, with a nod, said, "England."

Brenda and I did everything in our collective power to not laugh uncontrollably. The earnestness of his reply was as fantastic as what he said. Twenty minutes later, I asked him the same question, only to be answered with "Englaaaaaand" as if to say "We've already gone over thiiiiiiiissss." Madness nearly ensued, but luckily, Brenda and I got everything under control.

Since this episode, Isaac has not wavered in his stance on whether or not he is familiar with the Chinese language.

A cook you can count on.

Just because it's been a while since I've documented anything that Isaac has said does not mean that he's been silent. Tonight, for example, Isaac brought out some grat ones.

At about 8:45, Brenda decided to make zucchini bread. Isaac wanted to help. In fact, when Rosalie and I stumbled into the kitchen at about 9:00, Isaac was all too excited to have us be his audience.

Isaac (brimming with glee): Dad! I have a great idea!!
Me: What's that?
Isaac: You can sit over there and watch me cook! Isn't that a great idea?
Me: Ha! Yeah!! You're a much better cook than I am, buddy.
Isaac: Well, I can teach you. You just take some of that in a spoon and dump it in here and mix in.

He was sooo excited to be cooking. Isaac and Brenda slaved away in the kitchen while Rosalie and I watched the L.A./Boston game (GO BOSTON!!!!!!!!). Finally, after I had put Rosie to bed, Brenda and Isaac sauntered into the living room to give hugs and kisses on the way to Isaac's bedroom. I told him that I was looking forward to trying his bread and that if it wasn't good, I was going to eat him. He giggled and started up the steps. A moment later, Brenda walked back down the steps to get something she had forgotten. It was then that Isaac walked directly over to me and said, "Dad, my bread won't (with a swift wave of his arm) let you down. It will be good. It won't let you down. If you eat it, you will like it."

What a trustworthy baker! Now if it isn't good, I have to pretend to like it, but that's still a fair trade if you ask me.

At The Movies

Very recently, Isaac and I have found ourselves watching movies together. It's nice when he actually sits down long enough for something like that.

This first one was from a few weeks ago while we were playing with the Moon Sand that her had acquired at his 5 year birthday party. My attention would have been all Isaac's if it wasn't for the relentless action-packed thrill-ride that is "Top Gun." I turned the TV on close to the end when Maverick and Co. were in the midst of a pretty intense dogfight. The pilots were going back and forth screaming various things. At one point, Slider (Iceman's wingman) yelled "Strike Four!" But that's not what Isaac heard.

Isaac: Why did he say "Slap Whore!"?
Me: He didn't...and please never say that again.

I'm certain that he didn't know what he was even saying. Regardless, I don't want his preschool teachers to think that his father is a pimp.

This afternoon saw Isaac breaking off two gems. Off and on, we watched the original Star Wars trilogy, starting with "Episode IV: A New Hope." When the Mos Eisley Spaceport scene with Han Solo and Greedo came up, Isaac made me a proud parent.

Isaac: Is Han gonna shoot first?
Me (beaming): Most likely.

And finally, during the scene at Jabba's palace during the opening 20 minutes of "Episode VI: Return of the (Muthafuckin') Jedi," Isaac asked "Does Jabba speak Korean?"

I said no, but in fairness, I'm basing that on rumors.

I'll have to get back to you about that one.

A few days ago, Isaac absolutely blew my mind. Not only did he blow my mind, but he left me perplexed.

We were sitting at the kitchen table having dinner when started asking me which I like better, which one is funnier; this or that...this or that? Finally, after going back and forth between kinds of food, songs, shows etc,etc, he asked the one question that I

A: Have never been asked, and
B: Will probably never be asked again.

Isaac: Would you rather eat a remote control...or an ear?
Me: I'd rather eat a remo...Wait! No, an ear. I'd rather eat an ear.

Of course, he was just being silly, but what a question! I was almost too quick to say that I'd rather eat a remote, but let's be serious...I can EAT an ear. As revolting as the idea of ingesting an ear can be, imagine trying to eat a large piece of hard plastic.

But before committing to the ear choice, I'd have to be given a little bit more information. For instance, if the ear is from a pig, no problem. People eat those shits with hot sauce all the time. Some actually enjoy them. On the other hand, however, what if the ear was from a loved one. Furthermore, why would I be forced or asked to eat an ear in the first place? Then again, in reality, I honestly can't think of any situation in which I'd rather consume a remote control than ANY ear. Maybe if the ear belonged to Rosalie, I'd go with the remote option, but that's it. I've always thought Isaac's ears looked delicious. Not to mention, he'd rather eat my ear than a remote control just on basic principle, so why should I spare him?

This post is as ludicrous as it is morbid.

Botanical Tacos for Burglars

Here are just some of the highlights from the past week:

Yesterday while walking home from the park. Isaac was on my shoulders.

(In a whisper): "Dad...I love you more than tacos."

From a few days ago. Isaac told me that he had a secret to tell me, so I hunkered down to his level and he said:

"Dad...I love you more than plants."

From earlier this week. I was starving to death and my stomach was beginning to hurt.

Isaac: Why does your stomach hurt?
Me: I'm just really hungry.
Isaac: I will hug your stomach for you so it feels better.
Me: Thanks, buddy.
Isaac: Maybe burglars did it.
Me: What?
Isaac: Maybe a burglar sneaked into the house with a mask and cash and punched your belly while you were sleeping.
Me: Um, maybe.

I couldn't figure out what kind of sadistic burglar would stop at our house on his way home from a big heist just to punch me in the stomach and leave. It couldn't have been a very hard punch seeing as though I never woke up. Then again, maybe Isaac was trying to threaten me in a very subtle manner. Kind of like, "Hey, I'm gonna hire a money hungry dude to come beat you if you don't make with the money, and fast." I guess I'll have to wait and see.

A prankster, he ain't/Love in the time of Lockheed-Martin

Isaac's preschool is fantastic. He loves it. Brenda and I love it. Everyone is happy. One of the best parts is the way they acknowledge nearly every holiday. For instance, this past Monday, the same Leprechaun who wreaked havoc just twelve days before turned everyone's milk green and left green footprints on the floor. Now that's dedication. Even after St. Patrick's Day was close to two weeks past, the staff kept it coming. That being said, I wasn't too surprised when Isaac offered his best attempt at comedy on April Fool's Day.

Isaac: Hey, Dad. You have a...um...spider in your hair.
Me: What?
Isaac: Um...uh...FOOLS!!!!
Me: HA! I think you mean 'April Fool's."
Isaac: Oh, yeah. Dad, you have a brontosaurus on your head.
Me: I do?
Isaac: April Fool's!
Me: That's it!

I'm honestly relieved that he's terrible at this kind of thing. That will save him a lot of grief when he gets older.

A few nights ago, it was my turn to put Isaac to bed. We played school for a little bit and then we played a card game that Isaac made up which is kind of like 'Go-Fish" but uses 'Skip-Bo' cards. Oh, and the players must talk in cowboy voices. I know...AWESOME!!! Anyway, we got done with all the playing so the time to be tucked in came. Isaac gave me a big hug and then the following happened.

Me: I love you soooo much, buddy.
Isaac: I love you, too. Do you know how much?
Me: How much?
Isaac: I love you more than guns.
Me: Oh, good.
Isaac: And jerks.
Me: Great.
Isaac: Yeah, I love you more than those, 'cause they're bad.

At least I know where I stand: Ahead of guns and jerks, but probably right below irritable bowel syndrome.

My Little Carbon Knight

A few mornings ago, before I left for work, Isaac gave me two excellent Star Wars moments. For the first one, he and I were sitting in the kitchen where there sat a 4"X4"X12" Tupperware container. Isaac fiddled with it for a few moments before standing it up on one of it's 4"X4" ends. I asked him what it was supposed to be and he told me that it was Han Solo after he was frozen. That was pretty good, but the next one was even better.

I had gotten everything around for work and was making my way to the door, saying good-byes along the way, when I found Isaac on his back on the living room floor, sliding across said floor with his hands at chest level like he was getting ready to catch a basketball or do a push up.

Me: Isaac, what are you doing?
Issac (sliding on his back with hands frozen in same position): I'm Han Solo. I'm frozen.
Me: Oh. I see.
Isaac: Boba Fett is taking me to his ship. Then I'm going to Jabba's palace.

My heart swelled with pride as my little smuggler was carried away. I guess he worked out a deal with Jabba, because when I returned home that evening, Isaac was there; carbonite-free.