Small Tattoos

Harry told me a story the other day about how a friend of his at school stepped on a bee. He said the first time the boy stepped on it, it didn't die. But the second time he stepped on it, it did. He thought for a while, then offered that maybe the bee forgot to put his arms up to stop the boy's foot the second time. Probably because he was staring at something else, thinking. Harry said he does that all the time, sits and stares. I hope nobody steps on him during one of his reveries.

He also said that if he were to get a tattoo of a superhero on his penis it would have to be small. That needs no extra comment, especially not from his father from whom he's inherited his penis.

Harry's very adept at using the remote control now. He can bring up On Demand service himself and scroll through the channels to find the show he wants. Yesterday, he discovered there was more than one page of Ben Ten shows available, and when he scrolled to the second, he was very happy with the result. He screamed, "Daddy, wanna see me go down on Ben Ten?" Ahem.

Harry decided he wants to have a superhero party for his birthday and he's going to be Iron Man. He asked Ike who he wanted to be and Ike said, "Iron Man!" Harry said "You can't be Iron Man because I'm going to be Iron Man," to which Ike responded, with a touch of sadness, "Oh."

Ike put Harry's Ben Ten Ultimatrix watch on and came to show us. He said, "Mommy, lookit!" Mommy looked. He said, "Daddy, lookit!" I looked. Then he saw our cat, Nola, and said, "Nola, lookit!" Nola had little interest. But she's kind of a bitch.