Kay -N- Kay

An original tale by Brennan Codlin:

(This was one of Bran’s writing samples we received back from his 3rd grade teacher)

Transcribed in it’s original draft form:

“One afternoon I was watching TV.  And then all the sunden the news came up.  It said-*good afternoon.  At night there is a guy that is raising zombies and skloton warriors.  So if you here any knoking in the middle of the night please call 911 or the millatary.

…In the middle of the night insted of a knoking on the door I heard a slash!  He’s here!! I said.  Then my parents woke up.  I called 911 and I said he is here but it was to late.  I then was a liveing zombie kid.  My parents jumped out the window and said noooooooo!!! at the same time.”

On a completely unrelated topic, I got the World of Warcraft Realm First achievement for Level 85 Death Knight on Azjol-Nerub.

;D

Bran had an eye doctor appointment today.  While looking deep into my son’s eyes, examining irises, corneas, retinas, and his very brain for all I know, the nice doctor made an attempt at some chit chat with him.

Dr. Archer:  “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
Bran:  “I want to be a god.”

Me:  * I just cover my face with my hands and shake my head*

<silence follows after Dr. Archer stopped dead in his work and sat back just looking at Bran>

Dr. Archer:  “You know… in all my years of asking that question, I don’t think I’ve ever once been given that answer…”

It may be time to curb some of Bran’s video game time.

Bran and I spent a nice Saturday morning putting together a little science project, courtesy of Grandma!

BEHOLD… BranCan2010

Our initial activation of BranCan2010 was met with limited success:

It turns out that he just needed a more suitable surface to navigate:

I think the hardest part about making BranCan2010 was trying to stop myself from just putting it all together myself! 

We took Bran and his friend Noah out bowling this weekend and I took a couple of videos with my phone.  I think I may try using those rails next time I bowl a game!

We finally got hit by part of Snowmagedon 2010 and Bran’s school was cancelled.  Someone has to stay home with him, so I stepped up to take care of the situation.

The choice was stay inside and play video games or…

DRAG TEH SPAWN OUTSIDE!

Snow days can be a lot of fun…

Snow days can also be a lot of work…

No matter what you do on a Snow Day, no school never fails to put a smile on a kid’s face.

My Grandfather passed away recently and we went to the funeral last week.  He lived to be 101 years old!

Most anyone who knows me knows I’m not a religious person, but my grandparents (maternal) were.  They were those rare sorts of people who despite being deeply devout in their beliefs, would not wear their religion on their sleeves.  They were never the sort to look on you with that vaguely disappointed expression, as if already imagining your soul burning for all eternity and wondering how they could possibly “help” you to see the light. (My friend Molly is very similar)  If my grandparents ever said a prayer for their heathen grandson, I never knew it… and I love them all the more for that.  They were genuinely good people who lived their lives, strong, yet quiet, in their faith.

Bran was very curious about the whole affair.  We’d taken him with us a couple of months back on what would be the last time I’d see my Grandfather alive, so he actually knew and remembered who it was who had died.  It was recent enough to still be clear in his 7 year old mind, probably even complete with memories of words spoken.  At that time, Grandpa was having more “bad” days than “good”, but we’d lucked out for our visit.  We talked about him playing trombone in the Ohio State Marching band and his time as a missionary for three weeks in Honduras.  I won’t go so far as to say that the conversation was easy, heh… he was 101 and if he rambled a bit or couldn’t quite recall enough details, well that was just fine.  Bran was naturally shy about this scary old man in his hospice bed and oxygen tank, and initially refused to come in.  But as the minutes passed I looked over to find he’d scooted closer and closer until he finally joined our circle.  It wasn’t long until he was asking questions and telling his own stories to his “Great-grandpa.”

That was a good day and I guess everyone felt better for it.

At the funeral last week, I explained to Bran that Great-grandpa had died and that his body was up in the casket at the front of the room.  We’d already gone over a lot of questions such as “Why is he dead?” and “How did he die?”  We explained that Great-grandpa was very old and it gets harder for your heart to keep beating and pumping your blood when you get that old.  He’s read a few books with us about the human body and has long been fascinated with the concept of lungs, hearts, and other organs.  He accepted our explanations with an unaccustomed  solemnity.

The casket was open and Bran could see Great-grandpa sort of propped up and highly visible.  He definitely wanted to go up for a closer look, so Kristin and I took him closer.  He was very quiet and respectful.  He paid some face time with looking at the various pictures around the casket, but his attention clearly kept wandering back over to the casket.  Later on, after he’d had some time to think on it all, he said that he wanted to go back up.  At first he said he just wanted to go “touch” Great-grandpa, but he further clarified by saying he wanted to “touch his heart.”

Now I wasn’t at all sure about this, but evidently Bran was.  I’m not sure if he wanted to just verify that his heart was no longer beating… or a fascination with seeing a dead person and what that really meant?  But I think it was his 7 year old way of coming to grips with the concept of mortality.

We’ve already had a couple of those moments during an otherwise normal bed time story or good night kiss, when he seemingly out of no where busts out with that parental nuclear warhead, “I don’t want you to die, Daddy.”  What can you say to that, really?  I still remember my own long nights of sleeplessness as a child, realizing that people really do die and then connecting the proverbial dots that meant that “people” includes “Mommy”.  As a child you try to find some sort of loophole in that logic, anything that can offer some sort of hope that the most important thing in your life… really the ONLY thing in your life, isn’t actually mortal.  Fortunately, when your young, magic isn’t something that can yet entirely be ruled out, so eventually sleep does come.  But deep down, when everyone else is asleep and the nightlight doesn’t seem so bright, you still know…

Bran eventually did touch Great-grandpa’s heart.  I think he’s connecting his own dots.

At the end of the service, he liked the idea of writing a note to put in the casket, to be buried with him.  He asked me for a couple of spelling confirmations, but the words were all his own:

William “Doc” Myers, 6/27/1908 – 10/25/2009

You will always be loved.

Towards the end of a fairly busy day at work, I got this voicemail from my 7 year old son:

Bran – Pixie Sticks

The best part of it is the very end when he drops the “I’m-leaving-a-very-official-message” voice and transitions into something more natural.  Clearly he hasn’t quite perfected that concept that even though you are done with what you WANT the other person to hear, they aren’t done hearing it until you actually hang up the phone.  😀

Kristin and Bran are having an adventure down in Arizona this week.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t go with them, but they are having a good time so far, even despite “The Great Paul Family Ham Stand Off of ’09”.  I may be able to get Kristin to post that saga when she gets back. 

Bran had a crisis of faith this year about the Easter bunny, compounded by Kristin waffling with her “Well, what do you think?” answer when asked if there truly was an altruistic seasonal hare who harbors in spring through the ritualistic decoration of avian embryos by children and subsequently hiding their handiwork for suspiciously unknown intentions.  He was pretty sure this Easter Bunny character was real, but his child-radar was picking up that while Mommy was seemingly allaying his doubts, she would not actually outright validate the existence and proclaim all doubters as heretics to be immediately stoned and posthumously drug through the streets.  Something was possibly amiss and clearly needed to be investigated further…

On Easter morning he woke up bright and early and unbeknown to his still sleepy mother, had hatched a plan to clear up this Easter Bunny business once and for all.  The night before, they had performed the ritual of properly coloring each egg in the house according to unwritten edicts of ages past and stored the talismans within the refrigerator.  Therein lay his proof.

Moments after opening his eyes, Bran made a beeline for the fridge and mother’s intuition prompted Kristin to ask what he was doing.  “Oh, I’m just going to check on the eggs.” he replied.

Misunderstanding, Kristin said, “Hunny, we’re not doing the Easter Egg Hunt yet, remember how we talked about doing it this afternoon?”

“Oh, I know.” he replied.  “I’m just going to check the refrigerator to see if the Easter Bunny picked up our eggs.”

The truth of the situation struck Kristin like a thunderbolt from on high.  If the eggs were still there then clearly the Easter Bunny would not have been able to get the eggs prior to them being hidden in the afternoon.  The crafty runt had out foxed her!  She needed a diversion…

“Ok dear, well why don’t you go use the potty first.”  It was a stretch… but it might buy her about 30 seconds.

Off he went and Kristin sprinted to the kitchen.  With only seconds to spare, she grabbed the tray of eggs, whipped it out of the fridge and cleverly covered them with an ordinary looking kitchen towel.

No sooner had she successfully disguised the tray of eggs as a large lump of something clearly being hidden underneath a towel when Bran returned.  He opened the door to the refrigerator which was now cleared of the damning evidence and turned wide-eyed and victorious to his mother.  “He IS real, Mommy!”