You are, no doubt, wondering how my day went. Be careful what you pray for, because here it is.

Work was work. Left promptly at 8 1/2 hours because Ms Pikachu had the gymnastic equivalent of a recital. It was basically a bunch of beginners trying to strut what they've learned. It was charming in a kids crashing and burning kind of a way, and all the parents applauded. Except me, I was videotaping. There were kids that showed promise, and there were kids that showed nothing but enthusiasm. They were there because they wanted to be though, and had the courage to perform in front of a group to please their parents, and that's all that mattered.

After the event we stopped at the library to pick up a DVD the wife had reserved. Perhaps a DVD review will be soon forthcoming. Trainboy went in with the wife to get it. Ms Pikachu sat behind me like always. She got bored, a dangerous thing, because she then feels the need to play with me. Like a cat with a mouse. There came a quizical, "Dad?" yeah? "My butt itches." You've got fingers, use them! She laughed. Rustling. Pause. "Dad?" yeah. "Do you need some earwax?" No, not really. Another pause. "Do you need some booger? I have some." "Dad?" uh-huh. "Are you trying to ignore me." Yes, and I'm not doing a very good job.

Then the wife got back with TrainBoy. It wasn't long and TrainBoy started in. "Dad?" yeah. "My butt itches." There it was- enough evidence to convict of conspiracy to drive their dad crazy. The kids laughed like a couple of jackals.

We stopped at Petco to get the Guinea pigs some vitamins. Usually we all go in, the kids just love the place. The wife got out, I got out. The kids did not get out. I asked her if the kids were going in or not. As she started for the door she said, no, she was just running in to get the vitamins. By then she was halfway to the door, I had to nearly yell, "Do you need some money?" She shook her head and said, "No." In my best whimpering voice I pleaded, "Can I have some?"

There was a burly guy getting into his pickup adjacent to us. He looked like he couldn't believe such a pathetic public display of whipped. I hope he enjoyed it. He'll probably have to tell the story to his beer buddies. They'll shake their heads, have a laugh, and go home to be studs. If their wives will let them. But I digress.

We went to Ryan's. Ms Pikachu cut a dinner roll all the way through and opened and closed it like a puppet's mouth. "Hello, hi there, how ya doin? I don't feel too good myself." She dropped the roll onto the table. And commanded, loud enough for anyone sitting nearby to hear, "Stand back, I know CPR!" She repeatedly pressed on the roll but only succeeded in flattening it. She dramatically announced "We need to shock it. Paddles! " She pressed a fork and spoon against it. "Clear!" She tried it a couple times and pronounced a time of death. She picked it up, examined it, sunk her teeth into it, and while it was still in her mouth, exclaimed, "I have a pulse!"

Later, when I came back to the table with desert, before I even sat down the wife asked, "Why are you talking to your food?" Like I could tell her. Like it would matter to her if I did. But I didn't know that I was. The kids laughed.

Eventually the wife and Trainboy used the restroom. Ms Pikachu quickly became bored. Uh-oh. I sipped my coffee between bites of cherry crisp. "Dad?" yeah. "You're talking to yourself again. You look like this." And she proceeded to do a terribly accurate impression of a doddering old man. It did not help that it was supposedly an impression of me.

When she returned I told the wife, "Your kids are driving me crazy." She ignored me.

Then we went home. She decided to drive.

So that's how my day went. In case you're wondering, yes, it really did happen.

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