"Let's play charades...I go first!"

"Let's play charades...I go first!"

This phrase kicks off almost every single dinner that we have.   Often lunch and breakfast too.

It occurred to me that some of the readers don't really know the boys, you may have seen pictures or you hear a story now an again, second hand through a family member or friends.  I think to fully appreciate the blog, you probably need to have a better idea of who your heroes will be be over the next few months.

That's Malcolm.

Yes, Malcolm in the middle.  At least for a little while longer.  And right now, he is the the typical middle child.  He needs lots of attention, and to be honest, he does kinda get screwed sometimes.  He can be as tough as he looks in the picture above (the beer actaully looks like it could be his), or as sweet he is in the three below.  He can be your buddy or your worst enemy.

That really depends on the day, if he's just woken up, if you took his tablet, if you gave him chocolate milk in the morning, if you made him turn off the tv and brush his teeth, or if you're Mommy.  She generally can do no wrong and she also the only one who, no matter what she guesses, wins at fucking charades.  Charades started with his obsession with angler fishes.  So for three weeks, we opened dinner with his angler fish interpretation.  It was so good, Duncs began to copy it.  The other night, he was doing something really weird and we couldn't figure it out, so I said to Jess, pick something outrageous and guess and let's see.  She says, "Wrestler." (Not that outrageous but it produced the desired effect). And he excitedly points and say, "Mommy got it."  Meanwhile, me, Neil and Duncs have been trying to guess what it is for the past three minutes and we can't get it.  Mind you, it looks nothing like wrestling or a wrestler.  It looked more like he was pulling the intestines out of something.  I don't know what they hell he was doing but, Mommy gets it.

The best part is, he does it on purpose and he knows it.  He is funny as hell.  He's super sweet - the one who checks on both of his brothers if they are upset, even if they are upset because he made them upset or told on them, which then got them upset.  HIs favorite words are "penis butt cheeks."  Or "butt cheeks penis" - whichever order he feels like.  He can sometimes be helpful.  For instance, cleaning up some bushes I cut - not helpful when it is time for all of us to clean up the living room.  He procrastinates and avoids that shit even though he is the one who made most of the mess.  At this point he seems to be the most athletic of the lot.  He's really smart, tough, strong, stubborn, very loyal, let's you know what he is thinking and has a short fuse.

Remind any of my friends of anyone?

He looks the most like me.  The other night, Jess woke up in the middle of the night and was a little freaked out for some reason - just startled or had a weird dream.  I sat up to ask her if she was ok and she looked at me and said,  "Woah - you really look like Malcolm."  To which I replied, "No, he looks like me."  

He's got the MacNeil face and the Hoffmann body - short legs and long torso.  And clear has some Hoffmann genetics as he runs around outside in his socks a lot.

He loves the fact that he gets to play big brother to Duncs and he more often than not, looks out for his little brother whenever he can.  And like a good little brother, he idolizes his older brother, even when said older brother is being a dick to him.  That happens a lot.  He wants to do whatever he's doing, says whatever he says and does whatever he asks him to do.  It's a recipe for disaster.

He's sweet until he's offended by something that you do - as in the rabbit hunting scene below.

Malcolm is everything that is good about boys, which coincidentally, is also everything that can be bad about them.  He's strong willed, impulsive, filthy, sometimes too sensitive, insecure to a degree that can hold him back at times, but then overly friendly that can get him into trouble, inquisitive, he demands attention and will get it (good or bad) and he has more energy than the sun.  He doesn't stop moving, from the moment he wakes up and walks into our room with a scowl on his face (every morning at precisely 6:31 am when his clock turns green) to when I hold him before putting him to bed at night.  To know him is to love him.  He's Malcolm Alexander and you better not call him anything else.

We wouldn't have him any other way.

*In other news:

Neil needs yet another fucking passport photo.  If they don't get this right I swear he's not going to make it on the trip.  We have had it rejected twice and it was done by town hall.  I brought him to Rite Aid and they couldn't get it (the guy tried really hard).  It seriously has me a little worried, we leave in like a month.  Jess is going to have to take him to like wherever the hell you have to go to get that shit taken care of.  We leave in like a month.

I am happy to say do not seem to have anything too crazily wrong with my stomach.  The endoscopy and colonoscopy both went well and though there is some minor and normal wear and tear for my age (keep your comments to yourself), everything is clear.  I do have to go for a lactose test on Friday.  WTF, no milk and no mozzarella?  All I eat every day is milk in my coffee and a slice of cheese on my sandwich.  So now what, no pizza, tacos without cheese, ice cream...I'm going to stop because each time I think about it, the list gets bigger.  Bullshit!