The Banshee

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Only two decent pictures came out today for Morgan on his trip to Inflatable Insanity, or “Jumping” as he likes to call it. He did ok today until we had to come home. He was a little rough with Dawn Siau’s little girl, but I think that was accidental. He also kept trying to put his head in the lap of a poor lady in the jump house who was trying to play with her own son. I pulled him away but she didn’t seem too upset.

Like I said, he was fine until it was time to go home. Then he didn’t want anything to do with me. I had to carry him over to the chair to put his shoes on, and while I was carrying him, he took the opportunity to scream right in my ear as loud as he could. I swear I’m going to go deaf before he grows out of this phase. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get his shoes on, and he’s busy hitting and scratching me in the face.

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On the way home in the car, he kept asking to go to Office Max (he likes to look at their floor lamps), or to Wal Mart (he just likes to go there). When I said no, he was going home, he started screaming again as loud as he could. Luckily, I anticipated this, so the car windows were all closed and the air conditioning was running. I don’t usually run the AC because I’m a manly man and it isn’t usually unbearable. Only if it is really humid do I turn it on. My ears still hurt.

One thing I know he’s going to start asking for at Wal Mart is to look at the steering wheel covers. I made the hugely stupid mistake of showing him the wheel covers in the automotive section last time we were at Wal Mart getting some wiper fluid. He loved playing with the wheel and pretending he was driving a car. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to give it up. I figured it wouldn’t be too bad to buy it for him and let him play in the car with it. Well, the one he had picked out was (naturally) the most expensive one. When I tried to swap it with a less expensive one, he didn’t want it. He kept pointing to the other, leather, stitched, wheel cover. “This one!”

I eventually wound up leaving without either one, and he threw a temper tantrum. He likes for me to push the shopping cart, so his punishment was that Ash pushed him around for most of our grocery shopping trip. He didn’t like that at all, but we were firm about his misbehaving. I’ll be looking into buying one for him to play with eventually, or maybe a different toy car steering wheel. I don’t know what I’ll finally end up doing.

A safe for a dollar bill?

I was just amused at myself today, thinking about some of the things I’ve set up for security on this blog. For example, I have a new plugin on WordPress (my blogging software) called Bad Behavior. I just installed it this morning. You can see it in the Statistics section of the sidebar. It is supposed to be a really great program for stopping spam attacks on your blog. I thought it was amusing mainly because my blog doesn’t get that much traffic. Here I am setting up this great spam blocking tool, and no one really wants to spam my blog.

Same thing for the email notification signup I recently had. It is supposed to let someone sign up to get notified when I post a new entry. I took it down because Ash just told me it doesn’t automatically send out notifications after all. I’m still working on a new system so that people can sign up, but once again, who would want to or need to? If you have an RSS reader, like NewNewsWire for Mac, FeedDemon for Windows or NewsGator for anyone you don’t need email notifications. Every time you use your RSS reader, it just tells you about new posts anyway. If you come to the website on a regular basis, you will see new content anyway. And let’s face it, only two people signed up for email notification anyway, my wife and my brother (but not my sister because I think she’s mad at me. She didn’t even say hi to me when she was talking to Ash the other day).

I’m putting up all these world class tools to manage my blog so I don’t have to spend a huge amount of time maintaining all the spam and requests to get updated, and that isn’t even happening. Just something I wanted to laugh at myself about. I’m easily amused.