Notes

The following story is a recipe for feeling like utter dog shit.

Last night I  made dinner for Ike and Harry with a sad Levi on my hip. Rachel was trying to catch a quick nap before her overnight. I value her rest nearly as much as she does, so when she's sleeping I get uptight about keeping a quiet house. I set the kids up with paper and pens, hoping to stave off a cage match. All was going well until I heard a scream and then Harry was crying.

Turns out, Harry had written Isaac a note that said, "Isaac smell like a woman," or something just as pithy and poorly edited. Isaac read it, got angry and slugged Harry. All three of Ike's actions I was proud of. Harry whined about getting hit, I told him he had it coming, he said he insulted Ike because he doesn't like when Ike hits him, I said Ike hit him because he insulted him not the other way around, he said Ike always hits him (which is true), Ike denied this and started to cry, the discussion rapidly degenerated into a chicken and the egg thing, the pasta timer went off and, stressed as I was about trying to keep things quiet to begin with, I yelled for everyone to shut up. Then Levi cried.

Things settled down, but I wanted Harry to know that I was angry. There's nothing wrong with that in my book. He was acting like a jerk and one way to prevent him from not becoming a full time jerk is to let him know that when he acts like one it pisses me off for more than a few seconds. This upset him, but hey, we don't learn from the shit that doesn't upset us.

Ultimately the night mellowed. Rach went to work. All the boys went to sleep without incident. All was well. Cut to two in the morning when Ike crawls into myt bed. Followed by Harry. Followed by Levi waking up. Everyone was up for awhile. We all got back to sleep though. Until 5:30. Then it started all over.

I managed to sleep another hour when Rach came home at 6:00 (poor girl, I love her so), but it's not difficult to imagine that I woke with frayed nerves. Rach had fallen asleep, so again, I wanted a quiet house. Harry wasn't cooperating in this endeavor so he had the top spot on my shit list. While making his breakfast and lunch, unbeknownst to me, he started with the notes again. I discovered this when I heard Ike scream, start to cry and try to tear the notebook from Harry's hands.

I said in my scariest quiet voice, "Harry Sey, when are you going to understand that you're the older brother?! You need to help me, not make things harder and when you provoke Ike, I want him to slug you!" Harry had this jerky grin on his face, like "I know, but it's funny!" He tried to show me the note. I said, "Why would I want to see it!? I'm sick of you insulting him! You can write, you can read, and you use it to hurt his feelings!" (With great power comes great responsibility and all that). He kept smiling and I wanted to knock the dimples off his little face. He said, "Just look!" And I said "I don't ever want to see one of your stupid notes again! Go and eat your breakfast!" "FINE!" He said, with wounded, teary eyes, and went to the table to eat his Rice Krispies. As far as I was concerned he should be sad. He hadn't learned the simple lesson I apparently did such a shitty job of teaching him the very night before.

Ike wandered over and looked at the pad. Then he read the note: "Isaac is the best brother ever."

The End.

F Words

The F word is a big deal around here these days and it's infuriating. Where do they learn it? At first, I wasn't sure they actually knew what it was. I heard Harry and Ike whispering and snickering over lots of different F words: fart, fat, fart. Mostly just fart. Then a mother at school came up to me and said one boy (not Harry) taught her boy "the F word." She didn't say the boy taught her son "fuck." She actually said "the F word." Now I understood. She was the Typhoid Mary of the F word. 

The F word is the problem of course, not the word fuck. The F word is lame. It's just a thing to get everyone giddy with little boy boners. It's useless. You can't say, "F word this," or "F word you," or "Bad Ass Mother F word-er." It's just a place holder for an obscenity, not a real one. It conjures the curse, without inflicting any of the delectable damage.

And the real issue is there's no turning back now. I can't get them to unlearn "the F word."The taboo is too bonerific. The only way to rob the F word of its power is to diminish it by comparison. My only choice is to teach them how to properly use the word Fuck. 

Ike will be easy. When he says, "I want some juice!" it rings like "I want some fuckin' juice!" "I have to poop, Daddy" is already "I gotta take a fuckin' dump, bro."

Harry will be tougher. He's not really an expletive kind of kid. I'll have to work it in as a way to amplify his feelings. For instance, I think he could manage, "Levi's the cutest fuckin' baby in the world, Mama." Or maybe, "I love you so so so fuckin' much, Daddy."

S-m-a-r-t-y-p-a-n-t-s

Ike's a tough kid. I have no idea where he gets it from. But he's not all brawn. He was inspired to write a note to his teacher while on holiday break:

I'm so grateful. I so miss you Sadye

He's a lover too. 

I'd like to brag about his brains for a bit. He's in Preschool. Penmanship aside, that's pretty rad up there. I remember my first day of Kindergarten I forgot how to spell my name. After winter break in 4th Grade I forgot how to spell "of."

He's tough with a big heart and brains. Now that I think of it, he's all Rach.

So is Harry though (all he got from me are the fear, whining and chicken legs). Lately, he's been on a spelling jag. He spells his sentences now. As in, "I-w-a-n-t-c-h-i-c-k-e-n-n-u-g-g-e-t-s-f-o-r-d-i-n-n-e-r." He never spells, "p-l-e-a-s-e" though, which pisses me off to no end. Honestly, it's amazing to literally hear your kid's brain in action, but the truth is, I barely listened to him before. Now he might as well be using morse code to communicate with me.

The topper came the other day when he spelled "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." I'm serious. But then again, so did I just now, so fuck him.

Actually, I googled it.
Then had to cut and paste it.

Once they learn to cook I'll be obsolete.

Make it Work

A girl at school thinks Harry's cute. Now Harry thinks he's cute. When he gets dressed in the morning, he checks himself out in the mirror and says "I think I look cute." He's so conceited.

Ike is developing an interesting personal style. For one thing, he only wears athletic shorts, often al fresca. He usually wears an unbuttoned plaid flannel or pajama shirt, sometimes with a t shirt underneath, sometimes not. Lastly, he wears non-matching socks and non-matching shoes. As much as I want him to express himself, I think he's actually expressing a colorblind high school coach who thinks he's Hugh Hefner. 

Harry's style is no less odd. Very colorful. His favorite shorts are purple madras. He went to the mall with his Grandmother and selected pants in turquoise and emerald green. He also likes to match, and goes to great lengths to find shirts of the same color, close to the same color, or ones that have a bit of the pant color in them somewhere. With his red shoes, he looks like an Ellsworth Kelly painting. Very special. Yes, I meant it that way. 

You Talk Too Much

Harry is afraid to be alone. He won't get dressed in his room by himself. He forces me to follow him around the house looking for miniscule but indispensable lego pieces. It's an enormous pain but I try to be sympathetic. He also never stops talking. Not ever. If he has nothing on his mind he'll just describe what's going on around him. Like color-commentary on his own life. Herein lies the rub. In order to take a dump (for which he needs privacy, of course) he has to talk to me in the other room (so as not to get scared). However, he can't think of anything besides taking said dump when he's on the can. I think I'm going to start him on Twitter.

One day Harry got a sore throat. He talked a lot about it naturally. Ike and I listened to him talk about when it hurts, how long he thought it would last, what medicine Mommy said he should take, et al.  At one point, he wondered where his sore throat came from, to which Ike responded, "Maybe it's because you talk too much."

Ike's four and a half now. He's never taken karate or anything like it. The other day he executed a brutal takedown on his nine-year old cousin, followed by one of those arm-lock-in-the-leg things. Like he was trying to get his cousin to tap out. He's like the Mozart of MMA.

There Will Be Blood

Been a long time since I wrote about my dudes. Now there's a third. Which reminds me. Before Levi arrived and he was in Mommy's tummy, both boys did much speculating on how, and from where, the baby would come out. Ike was adamant that the baby wasn't coming out of Mommy's penis because Mommy doesn't have a penis. I wanted to say, "not anymore," just to be a dick. But then I thought of all the traumatic images he might conjure and decided against it. Harry clarified: Mommy has a hole in her that's not a penis. It's a bagina. Better this than the real word. The real word makes me uneasy.

Harry also wondered if when the baby comes out, "will there be blood?" Yes, Harry. There Will Be Blood.

The boys are very good with Levi. They don't fully grasp the notion of infant development, though. When Harry asks Levi if he's happy and Levi's head bobs up and down in an effort solely to hold it up, Harry thinks Levi answered yes. And Ike is always telling Levi not to do things, like grab his hair. When Levi then grabs his hair, Ike gets upset that Levi isn't listening to him. In other words, Harry thinks Levi is much smarter than he actually is and Ike thinks he's much dumber. Sort of a glass half full, half empty distinction in my older guys I guess.

Maybe Ike's right, though. Levi isn't exactly a genius.

Talk vs. Action

Harry made fast friends with a boy at school. At recess though, this friend plays and doesn't listen to him when he tries to converse. Harry talks a lot so I can't blame his friend, but it I'm glad I don't have to watch this. I hope he doesn't become that conspiratorial know-it-all at the coffee shop everyone avoids.

Time passed. We asked Harry how recess was going. He said it was fine, even though his friend runs around a lot. We asked if the girls run around just as much. He said, "No." Then he paused and thought.
"Girls talk a lot." A smile curled across his lips. Atta boy. Turn your weakness into a strength.

Ike was in the bath the other day and happened upon his penis. He pulled it away from his body, making it as long as he could and said, "Daddy! My penis is big!" I wanted to say something about how long and skinny doesn't really mean big, but then he pushed it back in and said, "Daddy! My penis is small!" That's when I realized he had no interest in having a large penis. Thank god for him.

Today I make a prediction. Ike will be an Ultimate Fighter. And 20 years from now, against my better instincts, I will root for him on the outside of a cage to nearly kill some tattooed giant with a criminal record. Mozart wrote his first composition at 5. Is 3 1/2 too young to start Gracie Jujitsu?

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.

Fast Times

Ike said his first unsolicited "I love you" today. I love him too.

He was also trying to mend Harry's broken Iron Man mask and, channeling Jeff Spicoli, looked up to me with guilty eyes and said, "I can fix it."

Harry showed his mettle yesterday:





I did too I might add by bringing the flip to his practice.

Wookit!

Ike's favorite word now is, "Wookit!" As in "Look it!" Which I know is two words and not an official conjunction, but whatever. At least I think he's saying "Look It!" He may actually be saying "Wookie!" since I've never met a kid who resembles a toddler Chewbacca as much as Ike. Not sure Harry's cut out to be Han Solo, however.

He's also been singing "Old MacDonald," a lot lately. His rendition goes something like this: "Has a farm... Pig! E-I-E-I-O!" (followed by really great pig sounds). He's not quite sure what belongs on a farm yet though. When he runs out of animals, he looks around the room and calls out other nouns, like "Has a farm... Spoon!" But then he usually doesn't have a sound for it.

The most annoying thing he does right now is when you offer him something, anything at all, he says "I wanna diff one." Pants, shirts, juice cups, washcloths. So you spend about ten minutes offering him different choices and inevitably he goes back to the first one. At which time, even though I knew all along it was coming to this, I'm dangerously close to poking him in the eye. And then asking if he wanted a different one.

Harry thinks it's funny that cowboys ride on horses. Personally I think it would be funnier if they rode on cows.

He's very into temporary tattoos right now and asked me why my tattoos don't ever rub off. I told him why, but he didn't understand. I'll have to take him to get a real one soon. We've been looking for activities for him anyway.

On a more depressing note, I was walking with him the other day and a homeless man asked us for money. This homeless man in particular happens to be a guy I see all the time telling gay men they're going to hell, so I don't give him money. When Harry asked me what he wanted I explained that sometimes people ask for help if they need it. He asked why I didn't help that guy. I told him he wasn't a very nice person. He thought about this for a while, then asked me if you only help nice people. I'm starting to long for the days when Scooby Doo was all we talked about.

Daddy?

Harry's favorite word is "Daddy," though he says it so fast it sounds more like Da-ee. He says it at least 4000 times a day. He says it before he asks a question, as in, "Da-ee, can I play Ben Ten today?" He says it at the end of a question, as in, "Can I play Ben Ten today, Da-ee?" He says it when he's telling me something very important, as in, "Da-ee my balloon isn't up anymore." And he says it when he's telling me something that's not so important, as in, "Da-ee, my balloon isn't up anymore." He even says it when he has nothing to say, as in, "Da-ee... um... um... Da-ee?" At this point, I feel like I'm basically punctuation. When it's career day at school, I'll be introduced as a comma.

Ike says whatever Harry says. Twice. Needless to say I'm starting to rethink those days when all I wanted was to hear the sweet voice of my child say "Daddy."

Harry was talking so much yesterday that at four o'clock in the afternoon he actually said, "Da-ee, my neck's tired from talking." Then he said my name again. And went on to say:

"Sometimes pigeons fly too fast and bump into cars." I agreed. Then he asked me if when that happens, do they die? I said they do. He thought about this, then said, "that's okay, because there's never not going to be pigeons. When one dies there's always going to be more pigeons." As much as Merle hates to admit this, it's true.

At some point recently he learned about patterns. Now he sees them everywhere. Red, blue, red, blue... Ike's book, Harry's book, Ike's book, Harry's book. Vicki (the babysitter), Josefina (the other babysitter), Vicki, Josephina.... He's also crazy about counting as high as he can. He got to 199 the other day. I'm not sure whether or not I should encourage this mathy behavior at such a young age. On the one hand, it's pretty deep. On the other, I envision his future as a rambling lunatic counting parking meters in the Tenderloin.

In a related story, he almost completely lost his shit because I told him "eleventeen" wasn't a number. Ultimately I had to back down. But I know I'm right.

Ike drinks about a 1/2 gallon of juice a day. We're trying to get him to use the toilet but it's like trying to potty train a fountain. Ike is so juice crazy, if we say any word that even sounds like the word "juice," he turns into a murderous crack head. If I told Harry we celebrate Hanukkah because we're "jews," Ike would rip the refrigerator door off. I won't be surprised when Ike pawns our TV for some "apple."

Girls, Girls, Girls

Okay, so the "you look cool" thing is getting out of hand. Harry's saying it to get what he wants. As in, "Daddy, you look cool. Can I watch another show?" No, Harry. Not until your powers of discernment are more refined. I know I don't look cool in pajamas.

The word "cool" is also getting kind of old in the house. Ikey even says it now. And he skips "L" through "P" in his A-B-C's. Don't they know if everything's cool, nothing's cool?

Harry loves the ATM. What kid wouldn't? Buttons, noises, money comes out. It's magic. I tried to explain to him how banks work. That we (read: Mommy) make money from work and the bank keeps it until we need it, and we take it out. He said, "So banks are good." I referred him to Paul Krugman's editorials.

Walking home on a cold day Harry put his hands in his pockets and said, "Daddy, pockets are like hot-chocolate for your hands." I felt weird having such a sweet little kid on my hands at that moment. As though I was definitely going to screw it up somehow.

We were checking the sizes of the shirts in his closet to see which were his and which were Ike's. I explained that Harry wears a four and Ike wears a two (though he wears a four, just like Harry, but it wouldn't have helped my logic lesson). Harry asked me if I wear a thirty-nine. Cute. Then he asked if next year I'd wear a forty. Not quite as cute.

He was going on today about why Iron Man stickers stick better than other ones. Typically, I tuned out, but when he finished his lecture he asked, "right, Daddy?" I absently said, "I don't know, we'll have to get to the bottom of it," and he said, "But we're already on the top of it." If nothing else, it proves I should be listening better.

At the dinner table, Harry asked me who I loved. I said Mommy, Ike, Harry and the rest of our family. Then I asked him the same question. He thought about it and said three girls in his class (who will remain nameless for this article). Three girls. No parents. No family. Here we go.

Quoting Ike without seeing the delivery is unfair because he's a more physical comedian than Harry. But if you haven't already, I strongly recommend getting tickets to his "Making a Muscle." It's not to be missed. Nor is the part in "Peeing on the Potty" when he forgets to tuck his wiener down. That's always a laugh riot. And of course, "Hide and Seek" is a gut-buster too, now that he can count to ten without needing help with his lines.

You Look Cool

As I was leaving the house today, Harry said "I want to hang out with you today because you look cool." I didn't look particularly cool and for a brief moment I considered changing. But a few minutes later, I overheard him telling Ike that he looked "cute." Ike did look cute, so I guess I'm going to trust Harry's taste from now on.

I picked up Harry from school yesterday and for the two-block, ten-minute walk home he didn't stop talking. Not for one second. In the middle of his diatribe about everything from his new Wolverine game to a movie he couldn't remember the name of but that's called Monsters vs. Aliens, he said, "Mommy said when you talk someone's ears off their ears fall off." But then kept on going at full clip. I guess he doesn't understand the ramifications of my ears falling off.

I was also reminded of an old Harry-ism the other day I want to put down for posterity. Pork-cork. Which I won't explain, but don't want to forget. Hey, Rach, where'd the pork cork go?

Ike's ABCs are coming along. He used to just sing the last verse to the tune: "now I now I now I now..." Recently though, it's progressed to, "now I now I now I now..." (long pause while Daddy sings the boring bit about "next time"), then: "come sing with me!" With a heavy emphasis on the "me." I think he likes singing about himself.

He also likes using Harry's plastic golf club. I finally taught him to hold it with both hands, but he wields it backwards, like a hockey stick. One of these days I know he's going to pull Harry's jersey over his head and start knocking his teeth out.

Hi. Good. Yep.

As I was putting my socks on today, Harry said it smelled like feet. I said maybe I should change my socks and he told me to change my feet.

At our Hanukkah lunch yesterday, two of his cousins had a dispute. Oscar said Ruben hit him. Ruben denied it. It went back and forth, parents tried to get to the bottom of it, until out of nowhere Harry interjected and said, "Ruben, you're just saying you didn't hit Oscar but you did." And that was the end of the truth commission. It was very strange. I was tempted to explain the whole "tattling" thing to Harry. But then again, it was such an elegant if accidental way to get to the bottom of it all. Maybe he'll be an umpire when he grows up. Or Santa Claus.

He also told me a girl in his class used him as a pillow the other day. I know I have some time on that one but it made me nervous. I mean, do you want your son to be the pillow or the head?

Ike's big on the phone these days. He always wants to "call gramma." He's always got the same thing to say, too: "Hi." "Good." "Yep." Then he hands the phone over. Seeing as how he's just imitating us, I have to say, we sound pretty boring on playback.



Ike also really likes the shower now. This was discovered after he pooped in the tub while bathing with Harry. Amazing how unfazed they were sitting in a tub of poop. I can't imagine anything worse. Is becoming disgusted by poop the true loss of innocence?

shooted

Well, it's Hanukkah. And on the second night, Harry wondered if the Hanukkah guy was coming so we could open presents. Jews of the world, take note. We need a Hanukkah guy.

The other day I told him to look in his room for his shoe and he said he already did and it's not there. I said yes it is. He said, no it's not, "I looked and my eyes were big and I could see the whole room and I didn't see it." The shoe was there, but at least I now know he's a forest not a tree guy.

We watched Iron Giant and he asked me why the hunters "shooted" the deer. Trying to avoid the subject of hunting for at least a few more months, I said some people shoot the animals and eat them for food. He asked me if I shooted the chicken we had last night.

Out of nowhere Ike can count to 14 now. He also knows lots of letters. Now that everything is about sibling rivalry, if Ike knows something Harry doesn't... it gets ugly fast. I've been trying to slow his learning down but I can't.

Ike also smiles mischievously and asks, "whahsay?" He'll keep doing it over and over and I have to admit it's very cute for the first thirty times.

K?

When Harry woke up this morning he said that he'd had a bad dream. I asked him what it was about and he told me, "a skeleton was coming out of there," by which he meant his closet. I really hope he doesn't have skeletons in his closet. He's only four and quarter.

He also heard a bit of classical music today and said he didn't like it. He said sometimes bad songs are written by good guys. That's very true. But I think the opposite is true more often.

Ike doesn't have a huge vocabulary but he can now add "diarrhea" to his lexicon. And more than a few diapers.

He also says, "k?" As in okay. A lot. After every sentence. Like Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon 2.

From Here to Saturn

In order to quote every precious thing Harry says these days I'd have to put a wire on him. Since he doesn't even like the tags on the back of his shirts, taping a mic to his chest isn't an option, so here's a quick sampling:

We were playing Crazy 8's and I told him that when he holds his cards in his hand it's called a fan. He told me, "it's also called a full housin'."

He told me the bad guy on Batman is called the "Judger." I had a hard time deciphering that one but eventually figured he meant the Joker. He said, "Yeah, the Joker, 'cause he's always telling everyone funny jokes." Personally, I think the Judger would be a cooler bad guy than the Joker.

He also asked Rach if when we got married we went out and hugged and kissed each other. Which we did.

In a particularly circular bit of logic, he said he likes his new babysitter Joanna. Why? Because she likes when he shows her how to use his leapfrog, which he likes to do so he likes her and she likes him.

Best of all he said he loved mommy so much he loved her from here to Saturn. Me too, Mommy.

Ike's working on his counting these days: "One, two, seven... nine... seven! Blast off!"

He also thinks all sports on TV are soccer. So during the World Series, he would say, "Daddy Soccer?"

He's also got all the foods down that the Very Hungry Caterpillar ate on Saturday: "chocake (chocolate cake), i-cree (ice cream), pickul (pickle), cheese (obvious), mami (salami), lolpop (obvious, too), pis cher pa (piece of cherry pie), sachich (sausage, my fav), cucake (cupcake) pis wamella! (piece of watermellon!)" Then he rounds it out with his impersonation of a caterpillar with a stomach ache: (face scrunched) ooooh!

Popin'

About a year ago, Harry invented... well a word, but it's also an action. "Poping," as in, "Daddy, I'm poping." Poping is best described as pimpin' with a cane, even though Harry doesn't know what pimping is. He takes a stick, umbrella, you name it and starts strutting with it. No idea where he picked it up, but he had an umbrella in his hand the other day and out of the blue, started to teach Ike to "Pope." And I have to admit, Ike's a good Poper. Maybe better than Harry.

Harry had a Halloween party today and went dressed as Iron Man. Someone thought he was a power ranger. C'mon, seriously? A power ranger? My kid?

He also told me that a girl from his class has a nice smile. That he likes her smile and other girls' smiles too. But he ALSO said that he doesn't like one boys' eyes. Rach thought maybe Damien from the Omen was in his class but it turns out the kid's Chinese. I shit you not.

Ike has a firm grasp of ownership now. He points to everyone in the room and says, "Harry Juice, Ikey Juice, Daddy Juice." But he still thinks everything's his.

Get Down Girl

Ike saw a mummy on TV and said "Mummies lots of boo boos!" Never thought of it that way, but it's an impressive conclusion to make. He also thinks all superheroes are Spider Man. Which drives Harry crazy, especially since Harry's underwear are covered with lots of different superheroes.

Harry and I were walking home Friday night and he was singing "Gold Digger," which is his favorite song, even though he thinks it's called "Get Down Girl, G'head Get Down." So we wind up on the corner and three young ladies are all dolled up to go out and he starts singing the chorus, "Get Down Girl, G'head Get Down." He's already got his pick up lines down.

Harry was also very excited about my movie Secrets in the Walls airing on TV. But when he caught ten minutes he got scared. At bedtime, he asked me not to write scary movies anymore, and then this morning, while he and Ike were brushing their teeth, he asked Ike: "Ike? Did Secrets in the Walls scare you?" But nothing scares Ike. Except the prospect of a global "juice-milk" shortage.

No one Loses

Harry was racing Ike to the top of the hill today and stopped, took some dramatic breaths and said, "Daddy, I'm out of power." Despite this, he beat Ike to the top and yelled "I win!" Ike wasn't far behind and also yelled, "I win!" I like that Ike doesn't actually know what that means. 'Cause when he finds out, it's gonna get ugly around here. I also asked Harry if he knows what a tie is. He said he does, but didn't provide an answer. So I asked/said, "Is a tie when no one wins?" He corrected me and said "No, it's when no one loses." God, I'm such a bummer.

Also, Ike now asks "Where it is?" Instead of Where is it. But I think it's because he's training to be a pimp.