Monday, June 24, 2013

Uncle Tom and Aunt Stacey: Best Babysitters Ever

Today we babysat Jack and Ella and may I say we are the best babysitters ever. We only lost the children for a very short period of time.

On the way home from lunch at the Ramen joint, the two of them took off across a field and vanished. Not only that, but Jack had Tom's iphone clutched in his sweaty little palms. What a fly in the ointment to lose not only two kids but a phone besides. Of course it didn't take us long to put the pieces together and mastermind an ingenious plan because we are, as aforementioned, the best babysitters ever. I called Jack on the phone. The crumbsnatcher let me go to voicemail.

Eventually, I went with the "find my phone" GPS feature and Jack and Ella were located in their livingroom curled up before the dim light of an iPad playing Angry Birds in Space. Jack had not wanted to answer the phone while he was running. We rewarded his safety-first attitude by letting them watch Tracie's rendition of the Aerosmith/RunDMC Walk This Way video a dozen times. Consensus accords the best part to be when "Stephen Tyler" CRASHES RIGHT THROUGH THE WALL! BOOM-CHACKALACKA!

We discussed how funny it would be if a baby's first word was BOOM-CHACKALACKA. My brother is not pleased that we have taught his children to shriek BOOM-CHACKALACKA as often as possible. Serves him right for stealing five silver dollars out of my piggy bank in second grade.

After that, we rehearsed a theatrical one-act in preparation for Dad's return from the office. The production value remained low, but everyone did remember to bellow their lines at the right time. It went like this:

Aunt Stacey: "I like your nurse's uniform, guy."
Uncle Tom: "These are O.R. scrubs!"
Jack and Ella: "O.R. they?
Full Company: snort snort snort.


Jack by the garbage truck 130624
We spent the morning waiting for the garbage truck.
The kid is obsessed with waste management.

Jack by the garbage truck2 130624
Following around the truck helping out Pete and Ricky

Tuesday, June 04, 2013

The Incident on the subway in 1939 in which Grampy beat up an Irishman. As told by Grammy.

Bubby and Zayde
In 1939, your Grampy worked at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He got on the BMT with his gang after work and they were tired. Already on the train was this Irishman who worked at another shipyard. He was sprawled out over three seats, this Irishman, and the train was full.

Grampy approached the Irishman and asked him to sit up. The Irishman said, "Why do I have to listen to you, you little Jew." And before the Irishman had even gotten the words out, Grampy lifted his fist and beat the shit out of him, left him unconscious in a pool of blood.

We grew up in a tough neighborhood, you know this Bubbala. You can't be weak in such a neighborhood. I told you about my first date with your grandfathah, when we were sitting on the trolly in the Bronx and a boy ran past. He was Grampy's good friend this boy. He called out to Grampy, "Hey Roite! I'd stay and talk to your girl but the cops are chasing me."

Anyway, when Grampy got home that evening he had blood all over his jacket and I became petrified, naturally. I thought the blood was his, but it wasn't. After that, Grampy was always afraid to ride the subway. He thought he might have killed the Irishman and they'd come for him, the Irish.

Your Grampy knew how to use his fists. He was a tough guy, you know.