From the e-mail of Len Siren, 33, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

 

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Thanksgiving

 

Hey gang!

 

So we’ve got 15 people over yesterday celebrating Turkey Day.  Stacy loves spending 4 days preparing and 8 hours yesterday cooking so that we can all shovel the food down our throats in 10 minutes.  Honestly, I believe the best part of the day is going around the table and letting everyone individually give thanks.  This ritual is then followed by a hearty “Hear Hear!” and a gulp of wine.  We went through 10 bottles of the grape yesterday.  I guess there was much to give thanks for. 

 

While Jupiter sat happily in his chair flinging cranberry sauce at my mother-in-law, Stacy asked me what the hell I was thankful for.  I said I was thankful that my wife doesn’t know any good divorce lawyers!  Stacy playfully clocked me upside the head with her hand.  Jupiter saw this and began to cry.  “Why Mommy clock Daddy upside his fat head?” he whimpered. 

 

“It’s okay, Jupiter,” Stacy said.  “Daddy and I were just playing.  See?”  She clocked me upside the head again. 

 

“Yeah,” I said.  “It’s just playing, son.”  I playfully shoved Stacy’s face into her mashed potatoes.  My father laughed as he dropped his cigarette into my sister’s wineglass. 

 

“That’s not very funny,” said my father-in-law, Brogue.  “Ya keep yer hands off m’daughter if ya noo wutz good fer ya.”  Somehow, my father-in-law, born and bred in Memphis, speaks with a Scottish-Irish accent.  He stood…armed with a drumstick.

 

“Yeah?” I said as I held my ground.  “What are ya gonna do about it, old man?”  I stood with a large spoon of mashed potatoes in my hand.

 

Stacy wiped the mashed potatoes and gravy from her eyes and yelled, “Both of you sit down!  We destroyed our house a couple years ago with our food fight.  Can we please remain civil this year?”

 

Brogue and I looked at one another across the table and simultaneously shrugged.  We then turned to Stacy and flung our food at her!  Stacy immediately picked up the bowl of stuffing and heaved it at me!  I ducked.  The stuffing pelted my mother-in-law!  She then picked up the bowl of green bean casserole and frisbeed it at my wife!  Stacy ducked and the bowl smashed into the wall, leaving a hole roughly the size of Rhode Island!

 

Next thing I knew, the entire house resembled the cafeteria scene from Animal House!  My father-in-law was throwing punches at my grandmother who was gnawing on his ankle!  My sister was pounding Stacy’s brother with a gravy ladle!  My mother had my mother-in-law in a full nelson!  My grandfather was smashing a guitar off in the foyer.  Stacy brought a chair down upon my father’s head.  Jupiter was standing on his chair, clapping wildly and giggling at the insane fury.  

 

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I noticed Jupiter holding up the turkey with one hand.  In the other hand was a blowtorch!  “Don’t you DARE turn that blowtorch on that turkey!” I yelled.  Jupiter, once more displaying the fact that his listening skills are far from developed, proceeded to scorch the living tar out of the bird!  Instinctively, I flipped the table up and brought it down on my son.  Sure, what remained of the turkey was saved, but now my house was up in flames!

 

Hours later, after the last fire engine steamrolled out of my driveway and all the teeth and flesh were gathered and all the wounds attended to, we raised a glass to one another.  Jupiter held up his juicy cup.  “Here’s to family,” I said. 

 

Stacy clocked me upside the head…this time with a crowbar.  The remainder of the evening was spent in an eerie dark silence for me.

 

Hey, at least I didn’t have to help clean up!

 

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

 

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 33, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

 

So I’m sitting in my office, surfing the internet and periodically glancing up over my cubicle wall to make sure the boss ain’t headed my way, when I got a call on my cell phone.  I knew it couldn’t be Stacy cause she never calls my cell phone while I’m busy here at work.  It couldn’t be any of my buddies cause they usually just e-mail me during the day, and it couldn’t be my momma cause she only calls me an a-hole.

 

It had to be Jupiter’s daycare. 

 

I looked at the phone.  “Starlight Starbright,” with the phone number was filling the display.  I grumbled to myself as I answered.  This would make it the third phone call this week from daycare regarding Jupiter’s behavior.  And it was Monday.

 

“Hello, Mrs. Voss,” I mumbled into my phone.

 

“Mr. Siren?” came the annoyed, beefy voice from the other end.  “We need to discuss your son’s behavior.”

 

“Isn’t it your job to discuss his behavior with him during the hours of 8AM-5:30PM while I’m paying you half my paycheck???” I cried.  Well, I didn’t really say that.  I think I said something like, “What did he do now? and I’ll be there in a half hour,” or something like that.

 

When I arrived at Starlight Starbright Daycare, I saw that there were eight two-year-olds coloring nicely on a picnic table.  That killed me.  An indoor picnic table.  And the kids were nice and quiet.  Mrs. Voss’ assistant, Miss Tammy, was sitting with them.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Siren,” she said softly to me.  “Mrs. Voss and Jupiter are in the back room.”  I nodded and made my way.

 

I opened the door to the back room and nearly passed out at what I saw!  Mrs. Voss was lying on her back, unconscious!  Her face was a ghastly bluish-gray.  Jupiter was sitting on her stomach, punching her in the chest!  “Jupiter!” I cried.  “What in blue blazes do ya think you’re doing??”  Great, I thought.  He killed another one.

 

“Miss Voss gonna die,” said Jupiter as he punched her in the chest.  “She joke then die.”

 

I lit a cigarette.  “She told you a joke and you didn’t like it so you thought it best to kill her?” I yelled.  “What have your mother and I told you about killing people, son?  It’s not legal in most states.  Now stop punching her.”  I bent down and picked up the boy.

 

“Miss Voss gonna die!” he cried.  “She joke then die!”

 

“You need to develop a better sense of humor, boy,” I said as I reached the door.  “Just because you don’t like someone’s joke doesn’t you mean you get to kill them.  I explained this to you after what you did to Pop-Pop after he told that Irish joke at Easter.”

 

Well, the boy simply wasn’t listening to me.  He shoved me and broke free from my arms.  He landed on the floor and ran to Mrs. Voss.  He punched her chest again.  As I reached down for him, Jupiter suddenly jumped and landed on Mrs. Voss’ chest!  Something flew out of her mouth and landed on the floor.  It looked like a wad of bread.  The next thing I knew, Mrs. Voss opened her eyes and the color came back to her face.  “Jupiter?  Mr. Siren?  What happened?”

 

“Miss Voss joke and gonna die,” said Jupiter.

 

“I’m so sorry,” I said.  “The boy has no sense of humor.  Gets that from his mother’s side of the family.  I swear I was going to call 9-1-1…”

 

Mrs. Voss stood.  “No,” she said.  “Jupiter is saying I choked and I was going to die.  I remember now!  Jupiter and I were eating lunch together because he had a timeout for his behavior this morning.  I started choking on my turkey sandwich and must have passed out.  Your son saved me, Mr. Siren!  Your son is a hero!!!“

 

Well, if I were on a chair I would have nearly fallen off of the damn thing.  I couldn’t believe it!  Jupiter actually saved someone!  I was so proud of my son!  Mrs. Voss stepped into the other room and explained what happened to Miss Tammy.  While I called Stacy and told her the story, Miss Tammy called 9-1-1, just to make sure that Mrs. Voss was okay.  Some of the media showed up with the ambulance and interviewed Jupiter, Mrs. Voss and myself.  Jupiter had not only saved his teacher, but also saved Stacy and I the hassle of trying to find yet another daycare for the boy!

 

As we drove home an hour later, I couldn’t help notice Jupiter playing with something in his carseat.  “Whatcha got there, son?” I asked.  “What is our little hero playing with?”

 

“Miss Voss wallet,” Jupiter blurted out.  “I stole it from da bitch when I was twying to kill huh.”

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 33, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

 

Another frustrating day with Jupiter.  Stacy went out shopping so I was left alone with the little one.  I still can’t believe he’s already 2-years-old.  Seems like only yesterday when Stacy and I were exchanging vowels.  I still wear the “O” she gave me as a necklace.  I rarely wear the “A” but sometimes the “Y”.

 

So I was feeding Jupiter breakfast and I thought I’d try to work on his speech again.  He was just beginning to sound out certain letters and easy words…but I wanted to make sure my son didn’t adopt some early bad habits.

 

“What are you eating?” I asked my little guy.

“Hand tates,” he replied.

“Pancakes,” I corrected him.

“Hand tates.”

 

I thought I’d try another word.  “What did we eat for dinner last night, Jupiter?  Do you remember?”

“Glabth!”

“We ate spaghetti,” I said.  “Can you say spaghetti?”

“Bus getty!”

“Spaghetti.”

“Bus getty!”

 

I saw we were getting nowhere.  If anything, I felt that Jupiter had regressed since our last session last weekend.  “Jupiter,” I said, “Can you say ‘Heimlich maneuver’?”

“Heineken remover.”

“What about ‘ostensibly’?”

“Ostensively.”

Hmmm, this is worse than I thought.  “How about ‘Six thick thistle sticks?  Six thick thistles stick.”

“Six sick thistle thicks.  Six sick thistles stick.”

“Thick, not sick!”

“Thick, not sick!” he cried as he flung a pancake onto the floor.

 

“Take for granted,” I said.

“Take for granite,” replied my son.

“Ha!” I cried.  “We do tend to take granite for granted, it is so ubiquitous.  But that, of course, is not the point.”

“Ubiquitous,” said he.

“Pernickety.”

“Persnickety,” said Jupiter.

“Vincent vowed vengeance very vehemently,” said I.

“Vincent vehemently vowed vengeance,” said Jupiter.  “Very.”

“No, no NO!” I cried.  “This is ALL wrong!  Let me hear you say ‘Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe’.”

“Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe.”

“GOO-tuh, not GARE-tuh!” I cried.  “True, we Americans do tend to overemphasize the umlaut to an R when it isn’t as harsh as that.  But come ON!”

“Come on!” cried Jupiter.

 

“No more Hop On Pop or Goodnight Moon for you,” I said.  “We’re going to spend more time with our head in the middle of a serious book…without pictures…do you hear me?”

 

“Vows,” said Jupiter.

“What?”

“Vows,” he said.  “You and Mommy exchanged vows, not vowels, ya two-legged jackath.”

 

“That’s jackass,” I corrected him.  “Daddy is a two-legged jackass!”

 

Oh great!  Now he has a lisp!

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

So the Sirens went to the state fair this past weekend in Nashville.  We were walking around, minding our own damn business when Jupiter pointed to the Merry-Go-Round and cried with glee.  “You wanna go on the carousel, son?” I asked.  Jupiter nodded and clapped his chubby hands.  Stacy said she’d watch and take a picture or two.

I handed some college dropout two tickets and we made our way onto the platform of the Merry-Go-Round.  Jupiter giggled and pointed to the bright lights.  He was loving life, goddammit.  I strapped the lad onto a majestic, black horse.  “Hold onto the pole, son,” I instructed.  Jupiter unzipped his shorts and whipped out his lightning rod, both hands cupped around that puppy!  “Not YOUR pole, son!” I yelled.  “The one for the horse!”

The 19th century evil carnival music began, and the carousel began to spin.  Jupiter laughed as he hopped up and down in his seat.  We spun by Stacy who took a picture of her two boys.  Just then, the college dropout spun around the brass ring holder.  All of the children sitting on the outer horses reached up and grabbed a brass ring as they sped by.  I grabbed one and proceeded to hand it to Jupiter.  “Here’s a brass ring for ya, boy,” I said.  “If we collect the most, we win a free ride.”  Jupiter took the friggin’ ring and threw it to the ground!  “Why, you little…” I muttered as I bent down to pick it up.  When I stood up again, Jupiter was gone!

“For the love of…” I groaned.  The lad had vanished.  Oh well.  I’d have to explain this to Stacy.  She’d be upset at first, but we could always start trying again…maybe get a puppy in the meantime…and SUDDENLY, I saw him!  He was three horses ahead of me, knocking a poor girl off her horse!  Jupiter had been sitting on an “inney” horse.  The little bastard wanted an “outey”!  Like some demented horror flick, the little girl plummeted off the horse and carousel with a scream that quickly faded as we spun away.  Jupiter stood on his horse.  “Jupiter!” I cried.  “What in God’s name…??”  I rushed after him, but to no avail.  Jupiter had one hand on his horse’s pole and with his right hand he reached up for the brass ring holder…

KAWAMMM!!!  The entire carousel came to a screeching halt.  I was thrown backwards on my ass and put up my arms just in time to protect my ribs from a 300 lb. woman wearing tight sweatpants.  After she rolled off me I looked up to see what had happened.  Jupiter was holding onto his horsey with one hand and the ENTIRE brass ring holder with the other.  Black smoke was pouring out of the carousel engine.  A couple dozen kids and parents were picking themselves up off the floor, groaning while tending to their wounds.

“Son,” I said, “I admire your fervor to win a free ride…but this is ridiculous!”

Needless to say, we skipped the Ferris Wheel.

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of West Chester, PA, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

 

So I’m sitting in my house the other day, counting my chickens before they hatch and all that crap, when Stacy says to me, “I’m going out shopping.  You watch the baby.”  She hands me Jupiter who is literally drowning in his own drool.  Four teeth just broke through his upper gum.

 

“What time you gonna be back, woman?” I asked.  I always call my wife “woman”.  I’m romantic that way.  She calls me “a-hole”.  I guess it’s because I’m anal or something.

 

“When I’ve maxed out your credit card, a-hole,” said Stacy.  Before I could raise a ruckus (which I do in my spare time…I have a ruckus farm in the backyard…just ate a ruckus omelet this morning) Stacy was in the Jeep and off!

 

So there I was with Jupiter.  Just turned 10 months.  Nearly 23 lbs., 28 lbs. when he’s excited.  “So whaddya wanna do, son?” I asked.

 

“Gabbya, dabbya, blafoo!”  He said.  “What?” I asked.  “Gaw!  Da!  Mah wah!” he cried.  “What in blue blazes are ya trying to tell me here, boy?”

 

I could tell he was frustrated.  He held up two fingers.  “Two words?” I asked.  He nodded.  He held up one finger.  “First word?”  A nod.  He held up a picture of two female dogs.  “Bitches?” I guessed.  He pointed to his nose with one hand and pointed to me with the other.  He held up a finger.  “Second word?” I asked.  Another nod.  He crawled over to the liquor cabinet, opened it, and pointed to a bottle of Jack.  “Booze?” I guessed.  He nodded and clapped his chubby little hands.  “You want bitches ‘n’ booze?” I said.  Jupiter drooled and nodded like a rabid hyena.

 

“Don’t you think yer a little young for that, son?” I asked.  “How’s about I read you a Dr. Seuss story?”

 

“Gabbya dah blafoo?”

 

“No, it does not have any nudie pictures!!!”  Can you believe this kid??

 

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len               

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

So we dressed Jupiter up as Po for Halloween (Stacy and I are not advocates of that spaced-out, hippy English debacle Teletubbies…the kid just happens to like it.)

So he’s standing there, looking all cute and innocent when someone has the friggin’ nerve to knock on the front door.  “Who the hell is that?“ I yelled to the wife.  “Who in their right mind would come a-knockin’ on Halloween night??”

“Probably trick-or-treaters, a-hole,” Stacy responded.

I opened the front door.  Two adorable little kids dressed as Superman and some Pokemon reject were standing there with plastic bags in their hands.  “What the HELL do you want?” I asked then proceeded to crush an empty beer can on my forehead.

“Trick or treat, a-hole,” said the kids.  I began to lecture the little imps how in MY day I NEVER got candy for free…when Jupiter darted across the living room, grabbed the Pokemon’s bag, ripped it out of his hands, and ran outside like his tiny ass was on fire.

“Cute kid,” said Superman.  “Now where’s the loot?”

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

 

So we’re down at Virginia Beach with our friends this past weekend and everyone decides we should go relax on the beach.  I figured that was a good idea, being we were at Virginia Beach and all.  The best time to go on the beach is when you’re near the ocean; that’s what my grandma always said before the men in white came and took her away.

 

So my sorry ass is planted in a beach chair, a beer is planted in my hand and I’m watching the ebb and flow of the tide (the ebbs kill me, the flows are overrated) when Jupiter comes waddling up to me.  “Whatcha doing, son?” I asked.  He turned and pointed to the water.  “You wanna go in the water?” I asked.  “Is that what you’re trying to tell me, lad?”  Jupiter turned away from me and bolted down the wet sand to the water.  Stacy was laying on her towel, her skin greedily soaking up the sun’s rays.

 

So like any good father, I ran after my kid.  I picked Jupiter up and lifted him up and down in the water.  He giggled and laughed.  I carried him out a few minutes later and plopped him down next to Sue and our friends.

Jupiter got up and ran for the water again!  Stacy was sawing a log in half so I ran after the kid again.  We played in the water for a few minutes, I carried him out and plopped him next to Stacy.  The sun was hot and I was getting tired.

Jupiter hopped up and ran straight for the water!  “For the love of…” I muttered as Stacy’s snoring began to attract the seagulls.  I ran after the little imp who was beating the snot out of a horseshoe crab.  “Get yer ass up here!” I yelled at him.  The horseshoe crab ran up to me and saluted.  “Not you!” I yelled.  “My son!”  The horseshoe crab shrugged and walked off.

Jupiter started to swim out to sea!  Trying to control my panic, I swam after him.  I wasn’t gaining any ground!  The damn ebbs and flows!  I dropped my beer and began to swim with two arms.  Jupiter turned around and flipped me the bird, the little bastard!  I was exhausted!  Out of nowhere, the theme from Jaws could be heard over the water.  Suddenly, a shark fin appeared from the water, only fifty feet from Jupiter!  “Son!” I screamed.  “Look out for the shark!”  Just then, the shark’s head with its two black soulless eyes appeared above the water.  Jupiter began to swim towards the shark!  I screamed and hollered and splashed…I was so exhausted…I passed out.

I awoke to the sounds of cheers.  I opened my eyes and couldn’t believe what I saw!  Jupiter was sitting on a pile of money…on the beach!  “What the hell happened?” I asked Stacy who was beside me.  I turned and saw the sign, “FRESH SHARK STEAK, $10.99/lb.”  Jupiter was making a mint!

I turned to Stacy.  “I guess Jupiter’s getting sick of Gerber’s, huh?”

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

So I’m sitting on the couch, explaining to Jupiter how to scratch one’s ass without really trying when I notice the kid is doing a fine job.  “Not bad, son,” I said as I downed my seventh beer for the night.  I was building a beer tower in my living room.  Tonight was the night I’d get it to the ceiling without spewing my dinner.

*SCRATCH*  *SCRATCH*  *SCRATCH*

“You’re scratching way too much, son,” I said.

“Gaa gaa goo goo gaa,” he said, followed by *SCRATCH*  *SCRATCH*  *SCRATCH*

“Stacy,” I said.  “Jupiter’s just sitting here, scratching his ass.”

“Now you know for sure he’s your son,” Stacy said from the kitchen.

I was gonna come back with a witty one-liner, but I was about to pass out.  I threw an empty beer can at Jupiter.  It bounced off his head.  He picked it up and threw it at me.  It bounced off my skull.  I fell off the couch.  Stacy came in and kicked me in the head.  Jupiter picked up the ottoman and bounced it off my back.

THREE HOURS LATER…

“Stacy,” I said.  “Jupiter’s just sitting here, scratching his ass.”

“Hmmm,” she said.  She took off Jupiter’s clothes.  THERE WERE WIDDLE PINK BUMPS COVERING HIS WIDDLE BODY EVERYWHERE!

“That kid better lay off the booze,” I snorted.

“I better stop feeding him radishes,” Stacy said.

“Goo gaa gaa goo goo!” Jupiter cried.  (TRANSLATION:  Hey dumb asses!  I HAVE CHICKEN POX!)

“That kid better lay off the snort,” I said.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t suck on those spark plugs anymore,” said Stacy.

“Goo gaa,” saighed Jupiter.  (TRANSLATION:  To anyone who reads this…please call me a doctor.  I HAVE CHICKEN POX!)

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

Hey gang!

SECOND TOOTH CAME IN TODAY!

 

But more importantly, Jupiter wrote his first poems last night.  He’s so shy…I found them under his diaper changing table.

 

“HOW I LOVE MY MOMMY”

by Jupiter Siren

 

How I love my Mommy,

She feeds me every day,

She holds me and kisses me

And throws my dirty diapers away.

I love to snuggle with her,

To be away from her is bad,

Cause when she’s away,

Much to my dismay,

I’m stuck with dear ol’ Dad!

 

“HOW I LOVE MY PACIFIER”

by Jupiter Siren

 

How I love my pacifier,

To love it is to suck it,

To suck it is to love it,

What the f**k?

I love to suck!

You’ll hate me if you chuck it!

From the e-mail of Len Siren, 31, computer programmer of Fruitdish, TN, to his family and friends:

From: Len

To: Family/Friends

Subject: Baby Update

So the in-laws are over on Thanksgiving, and we’re sitting around the table giving thanks before shoving 8 hours worth of cooking down our throats in 10 minutes.  Jupiter was sitting happily in his chair, already shoving giblet stuffing up his nostrils.  Stacy asked me what I was thankful for.  “I’m thankful that Jupiter’s not a twin!” I laughed.  Stacy scooped up some mashed potatoes and flung them across the table at me.  “I’m also thankful Stacy’s not a twin,” I muttered.  Stacy said she was thankful she had the strength to not strangle me over the past year.

Needless to say, everyone was thankful for the addition of Jupiter to the family.  “What do ya say to that, son?” I asked as I turned to his highchair.  The chair was empty!  Jupiter was gone!  I turned to see the slippery bastard opening the glass fireplace doors!  And to make matters worse, he was holding onto the serving dish piled high with turkey!  “Don’t even think of it, little one!” I yelled.  “You throw that turkey in the fire, you’re going in after it!”

“Stop yelling at your son,” said my mother-in-law. 

“Oh yeah?” I yelled.  “Ya gonna make me?!”  Before I could even blink, my mother-in-law brought her clenched fist into my jaw with a swift uppercut.  I saw stars as I landed on the carpet.  I kicked my leg forward and tripped her.  “You wanna piece of me?!”  I yelled.  “You wanna piece of me?!” 

“Stop yelling at my mother,” said my sister-in-law.  I elbowed her in the ribs.  She went down faster than a pile of bricks.  My brother-in-law took a swing at me with his crowbar. I ducked.  The metal plowed into my father-in-law’s snout. He brought his knee into my brother-in-law’s private jewels with a deafening crunch.  Stacy brought a chair down on my head.  My mother-in-law body-slammed my sister-in-law.  Everyone was beating the crap out of one another.  Jupiter was throwing the turkey into the roaring fire.  Somewhere, off in the distance, a dog barked.

Hours later, after all the teeth and flesh were gathered and all the wounds attended to, we raised a glass to one another.  “Here’s to family,” I said.

“With a family like this, here’s to health insurance,” laughed my father-in-law as he spit out a tooth.