Hank

Posted By admin on January 21, 2012

Henry had a great fourth birthday party at Bounce Town, but before we get to that, I present Henry’s love of French baguettes.

He’s so crazy about the stuff that sometimes I just throw up my hands and hand over the loaf.

And we have one more photo from Halloween – Henry helping to carve out the pumpkins.

I’m sure it’s difficult not to notice the lack of pants.  Henry has taken to shucking his pants as soon as he walks in the door, which I guess is better than shucking them outside, but it’s hard to get a decent picture of him unless I cut it off at the waist.  The bread picture – totally pantless.  The other photo strategy we’ve tried is this:

Henry’s really into helping out these days.  I mean, he’s really into helping out with anything I’m doing that doesn’t involve picking up his toys.  He’s a pro at sweeping the kitchen floor, and he loves to help cook:

And the wine is not his.  It’s, uhm, cooking wine!

And one more photo until we get to the birthday party:

A nothing special day.  Just Henry and his mama playing outside in early November.

And now…FOUR!

Actually, we don’t have a lot of great shots from the party.  Floyd was taking the pictures.  Silly Floyd!  But we got this one of Henry and his birthday cupcakes:

Henry requested multi-colored cupcakes for his birthday and I made them and the frosting from scratch.  I wanted to make 36 cupcakes but I accidentally made enough batter for 50 and a small cake.  Whoops.  So that’s where those five pounds came from.  It was my first scratch baking endeavor, and of course I decided to try it when faced with feeding 16 kids and their parents at high altitude.  Other than the mixer breaking down (well, burning out and emitting an incredibly toxic-smelling smoke) and an accidental doubling of the milk, I think they turned out rather well.  And Henry was thrilled.

We had his party at Bounce Town:

There were a total of six bouncy structures in a warehouse space.  The kids loved it.  And when we got home, Henry got his big birthday present from us:

Being the uber-fit and sporty town that it is, Boulder seems to spawn children who are biking by 2, skiing by 3, and rock-climbing by 4.  We’re a bit behind the curve but we don’t mind at all.  And Henry’s great at balancing and coasting.  Pedaling is still a work-in-progress, as he sometimes pedals backwards which of course stops the bike cold.  But he’s having fun learning and hopefully by this summer he’ll be as comfortable on it as he is on his scoot bike.

A week after Henry’s birthday party, we jumped in the car for the pilgrimage to Wichita and Missouri.  Henry’s actually pretty good on the trip, thanks to the portable DVD player and junk food (Don’t judge!)

The first stop was Grandpa Michael’s, where Henry got to spray paint with Grandpa Michael, and Michael showed off his current project – a 1940-something roadster:

I have to admit that I felt pretty outlaw sitting in the driver’s seat.

We didn’t get much time in Wichita before we took off for Thanksgiving in Missouri.  We hit the McManis family celebration first, where Henry got to play with his cousin Cooper:

He also got a chance to climb on the tank outside the VFW hall while we were trying to figure out where the party was (thank God Lamar is a small town and cousin Steve drove by while we were wandering around the town).

Next stop was in the town of Milford for the Stansberry clan’s gathering.  Floyd’s Uncle Dave and Aunt Chloe drove down from Liberty, so we got to see them along with Uncle Shep and Aunt Francine and the rest of the family.

We made our way back to Wichita to spend some time with Sies and Gina and of course Grandpa Michael, who certainly knew what Henry wanted for his birthday!

Let the fantastic fours begin!

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Posted By admin on January 15, 2012

An exchange from the archive:

Henry: Mama, do you still have that big blue lollipop that you put away?

Me: What big blue lollipop?

Henry: That big blue lollipop you told me about, the one you put away.

Me: Henry, I don’t remember telling about anything about a big blue lollipop.

Henry (Signs of distress creeping into his face as he says): Oh, no.  It was a dream.

Still catching up!  Made it to Halloween!  Now I’m only 2.5 months behind.  Henry was Iron Man, a big stretch from last year’s Spider Man.  I was a little disappointed, hoping that he would pick something that would require some sort of crafty effort from me, which if you think about it, is pure craziness on my part.  I have all the crafting skills of a die-hard fan of ultimate cage fighting.  I’ve got my wish for next year, though.  He wants to be a flamingo.  I think I brought that on myself.

Before we get to the Halloween pictures, here’s one of Henry hiking mid-October:

And one of him sledding twelve days later:

That’s how we like our weather in Boulder – schizophrenic.

Earlier in the month, Henry and I went on our annual pilgrimage to the pumpkin patch where we went on a hayride

(Henry was sporting his celebrity-going-incognito-and-casually-dressed look).  Henry also attempted the cornstalk maze this year, something that freaked him out a bit last year:

He’s very much into doing things himself these days, whether it is making his own smoothie or picking his own pumpkin, or pulling the wagon to carry the pumpkin:

But all that work can tire a boy out:

So, finally, here’s Henry as Iron Man.  We went trick-or-treating with Henry’s friends Emanual (Optimus Prime) and Benjamin (Superman).

And here’s our three pumpkins, which I have to put here since we spent so much time carving them and talking Henry down from the slimy innards that he didn’t want to touch.

And mama as witch for those of you who still don’t believe that I look just like Mary Louise Parker.  I’m one solid dye job away from doppelganger.

Finally, an early October exchange I’ve recovered from the archive:

Henry (outside): Mama, I have to pee.

Me: Okay, let’s go inside.

Henry: But I want to pee on a tree.

Me: Well then, go pee on a tree.

Henry (running back after a very abbreviated pee): Mama! Do you know why my pee was so quick?

Me: Why?

Henry: Because there was a squirrel in the tree.

Me: There was?

Henry: Yep. You know what, mama?

Me: What, Henry?

Henry: Squirrels are taking over the world.

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Posted By admin on January 11, 2012

Early September exchange recovered from the archive:

The setting: Our balcony. Henry is wearing is orange plastic workman goggles and playing in a bucket of dirty water with chopsticks and chalk.

Me: Hey, hon. Whatcha doing?

Henry: I’m the fishtaking man.

Me: You’re fishing? Are you a fisherman?

Henry: No, I’m the fishTANK man. I’m cleaning the fish tank.

My son and his glorious aspirations. (Contented sigh.)

For Floyd’s 37th birthday, we had a little bash at Eldora Canyon State Park, a truly breathtakingly beautiful park just a bit south of Boulder.

Floyd had a peach-berry pie for his birthday cake, and we enjoyed the company of lots of good friends.  Unfortunately, we only took pictures of the kids playing in South Boulder Creek.  Here’s Liam, Henry and Emanuel.

I love this photo of Emanual’s little brother Benjamin.

And here is everyone’s favorite dog Rex and everyone’s favorite little sister Carol.

There’s also a little creek behind the East Boulder Rec Center.  It has lots of great spots for cooling off.  Our friend Tim introduced us to this one, which Liam and Henry enjoyed thoroughly.

Funny story about the tube.  Tubing is a big  past-time here in Boulder:  the Boulder Creek and the St. Vrain River both offer plenty of sites to go.  People use those big ole tubes that could host a tea party, and it’s pretty safe.  One afternoon, Floyd and I decided to rent a couple of tubes and a life-jacket for Henry to try it out.  It was pretty pricey to rent a tube, so we asked about buying them.  Turns out it was only a few more dollars to buy them.  So we bought them.  On the way to Meadow Park in Lyons, which has a man-made tubing course on the St. Vrain, we pulled over at a gas station and inflated them.  And found out they were actually Henry-sized:

I’ve tried tubing with it.  I haven’t killed myself.  Yet.  But Henry loves it, so it wasn’t a total waste.

The swimming hole had its built in lawn chair.

Big enough to share (and note everyone’s favorite dog Rex on the bank).

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Posted By admin on January 10, 2012

Henry likes to wear my glasses:

He also likes to wear his clothes in an unusual manner.  I think he looks strangely hipster.

Boulder is, unfortunately, short on lakes.  We have the Reservoir, which is murky and smells like goose poop, and we have Coot Lake, which is also murky and smells of goose poop.  But at least no one except dogs tries to swim in Coot Lake.

You can, however, fish in it.

This young boy was a stellar fisherman, and he let Henry hold his fishing pole and he manipulated the line until Henry caught a fish.  Sweet kid.

Henry’s best friend is Liam, and Liam’s dad is Tim.  Tim is a bee-keeper, and we’ve been kept in local, delicious honey for a while now.  And we’ve gotten to see the inner workings of bee-keeping.  But a couple months ago, Henry and I got to see how Tim processes the honey.  He invited us to his workshop, which was a cool 98 degrees or so.  He has to keep it that hot to keep the honey flowing.

I couldn’t get Henry to turn around for the photo.  He was way too pre-occupied with the spigot of the centrifuge machine, in which Tim placed all the combs.  This is what was coming out of the spigot.

Henry’s on a new kick these days (one which I think he picked up by the aforementioned Liam who is a full year older than Henry).  He likes to say that he doesn’t like girls.  (He then also insists that boys love girls but doesn’t seem to have picked up on the  contradiction).  Earlier tonight, Floyd teased Liam by saying, “Hey Michele, you know who Liam loves?  He loves girls!”  Liam ran into the other room screaming, “I DO NOT!”  Henry ran after him screaming, “I don’t love girls, either…except you Mama!”  He’s hardcore, my boy.

Anyway, Henry does like at least one girl.  His friend Ira and he play on a regular basis, and a couple of months ago, Ira’s folks invited us up to their home in Vail for the weekend.  It was lovely.

And we had a great little hike in the hills behind their house.

I’m not sure what resort is behind Henry on the distant mountain.  Maybe arrowhead?

Finally, Henry in another hipster shot.  This time sporting the hipster beard.

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Posted By admin on January 8, 2012

Before we get into Labor Day, I just wanted to post a couple of random late summer shots.  1) Face Painting at the Peach Festival in Lafayette:

2) Gold Hill Fire Truck and Station.  Gold Hill was the town that was hit hard by the fire in 2010.

We had a pretty active Labor Day weekend.  Henry and I met up with his friend Liam and Liam’s mom Carol for the Boulder festival, the highlight of which was the fire company’s ladder truck.  The ladder was extended the full length and we watched them as they pulled the ladder in and drove away.  Unfortunately, I don’t have a good picture of the fire truck, so I have to do with this photo of Liam doing something odd with a megablock.

On Saturday, we decided to drive down to Colorado Springs and see the Balloon Festival.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get up early enough to see the balloons take off, but we did see them light up their big torches and inflate the night before.  And we also got to see Henry in his father’s jacket.

And the best part of the Balloon Festival (as it seems the best part of all festivals for Henry) was the Bouncy Bounce.

The next day we headed for Pueblo to visit the Colorado State Fair.  On the way, we stopped in the Garden of the Gods.

Henry managed to do all that climbing with a broken ladder from his fire truck.  It was also very useful for digging.

Floyd used the visit as an opportunity to practice his 1970s action-movie moves that, coincidentally, matched his facial hair.

Afterward, we headed to the state fair, which was grand but – and I may be prejudiced here – had nothing on the New York State Fair.  I mean, their dairy barn wasn’t even a barn, but an ice cream stand.  And there was no butter sculpture.  What’s a state fair without a butter sculpture.  Still, Henry got to milk a cow, and we saw some great belly dancing, and I did part of the marine fitness test and totally qualified (though I’m way too old, which the handsome marine had a hard time believing – ahem!), and of course there was cotton candy.

We also saw pig races and a stunt show, and there were lots of animal exhibits for petting.  Our favorite attraction was probably the sandbox filled with pinto beans, which I thought was a great idea.

The tactile experience of it was amazing.

And I got to relive my old MTV video days.  Wall of Voodoo’s “Mexican Radio” anybody?  (3:27).

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Posted By admin on January 7, 2012

As many of you have noted, it has been a while since I’ve posted, so instead of posting a giant, monster missive that most of you will only skim through while looking at the photos, I’ve decided to post a bunch of mini-entries.  Hope you like them.

First of all, while Henry received a big boy pedal bike for his birthday, he still loves his scut (imagine an umlaut over the “u” and pronounce it scoot) bike, on which he became a speed demon this summer.  I ended up having to ride my bike with him in order to keep up with him.

Yesterday morning, Henry asked me, “Mama, after we wake up can I go practice on my big boy bike?”

Me: Sure!  What made you think of your big boy bike.  Did you dream of it?

Henry: No mama, I didn’t have any dreams.  I don’t have dreams.

Me: You don’t have dreams?

Henry: No.  I’m all out of dreams.

Henry is fully potty-trained these days, but still needs a little extra protection at night.  I’m talking about the diaper,  not the bucket, which is filled with toys.  Henry fell asleep with his hand inside it.

This summer, Floyd put together a new album, and Henry and I traveled with him all over Boulder to take photos for his album cover.  Sometimes Henry had to get in the shot.  Here is is with his daddy on top of Flagstaff Mountain.

Henry spent a lot of time with his friend Ira over the summer.  He and Ira met at the Rec Center at the university, back when they still had childcare.  Once they got rid of their childcare program, Zhenia (Ira’s mom) and I had to be a littl more creative with our afternoons. Ira and her little sister Carol have a great backyard with a swing with a very long arc and a trampoline.

Henry may not look a thing  like me, but he definitely shares my sweet tooth.  Hopefully that means he’ll also share my sweet disposition.  He was happy to celebrate his friend Benjamin’s 2nd birthday, especially when it came to the part about cake frosting.

Finally, Henry started taking swimming lessons this summer, and despite a slightly whack-a-doo instructor, he’s making a lot of progress.  He puts his head under the water, blows bubbles, and swims (I mean, he’s under the water and wiggling his body like mad, but he doesn’t cover much ground and would definitely drown if I weren’t within arms reach, but we’re going to go ahead and call it swimming).  There’s a small water park near us called the Bay, and while it doesn’t encourage much swimming practice, it does encourage Henry’s love of water.

More catch-up posts on the way!

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Posted By admin on August 11, 2011

As summer unofficially draws to a close (school starts in 12 days), I wanted to get one more post in before fall semester craziness leads to another four month span of no posts.  So to kick it off, I’d like to start with a few photos from our hike at Brainard Lake IN JUNE!  Granted, it was the beginning of June, but June nonetheless.

Brainard Lake is about an hour and 15 minutes north of Boulder, just past the town of Ward.  We hiked the two miles in via the road that was blocked to motor traffic.  Henry did well, and probably could have walked the whole way…if we had 27 hours for the hike.   Instead, we hauled him about for a good chunk of the hike in the baby backpack.  Considering that he is a wiggly 35 pounds now, that’s no small feat.  But Henry’s slow.  He gets distracted by almost everything.  And of course, there was the snow:

The hike was worth it, though, when we arrived at the lake:

On Father’s Day, Henry and I took Floyd to Georgetown, an old silver mining town about an hour and a half  southwest of Boulder.  Henry was thrilled to be keeping a secret from his Daddy (that we were going to go on a train ride up the mountain) and he perseverated on the idea of secrets the whole ride up there.  And he did a great job until I started to fret about the time.  Then he asked, “Mama, are we going to be late for the train ride?”  He didn’t notice his gaff, however.  Nor did he notice any of his father’s own powers of observation.  As we were about to board the train, which made a grand show of whistling and blowing smoke and steam as it entered the state, Henry asked, “Mama, can I tell daddy about the train now?”

Henry got a little worn out by all the attention that the dads were getting that day, and in the parking lot he accosted us with this question: When will it be Father’s Day for ME?  That question may also shed light on the following exchange that happened on the way home:
Henry: What is the universe?
Me: Metaphoric explanation (this goes on a bit)
Floyd: Scientific explanation (this goes on a bit)
Henry: Well, I’m bigger than the universe.

Henry is tres social these days.  Every day he asks me if this or that friend can come over or if he’s going to have a play date.  He has lots of friends from daycare:

Sometimes we play with Hunter or Emanuel when we see them outside.  Other times we meet Ira in the park.

But Henry’s best buddy is, by far, Liam.  Liam is about a year older than Henry, and they go to daycare together, but Henry probably sees Liam two to three times a week outside of daycare.  It’s pretty wild to witness their play.  They have their private in jokes, their protocols, and their own etiquette, and it’s a blast to eavesdrop on their conversations.  Half the time I don’t know what they are talking about.  The other night they were eating dinner and started pointing and shouting at each other, “You are mine! You are mine!” and then laughing uproariously.  I know that this is something very meaningful to them, which context and associated memories, but I can’t figure it out.  And I love it.  That Henry has this special relationship that has nothing to do with me.  That he had a friend.

These past few months, Henry and Liam have been playing a lot in nearby parks, like Eldorado Canyon, where we celebrated Liam’s dad Tim’s birthday.  Henry and Liam got their drink on,

got their dance on,

checked out the creek,

and plotted other mischievious  activitities.

The water at El Dorado Canyon was FREEZING.  I managed to get up to my knees before going completely numb, and Henry didn’t mind getting his feet wet to conduct some physics experiments.

But the birthday boy dived right in…for about 30 seconds.

A week later, Tim and I took them to a secluded spot at Boulder Creek, where they had a blast playing in the water.  (And, yeah, naked preschoolers are de rigueur in Boulder).

Henry has gotten pretty brave in the water, and he’s also turning into a bit of a scrambler.  Pretty soon we’ll have to tie ropes to him.  He likes to climb at a spot in Boulder Canyon we call “Rock Mama.”

One day soon, he’ll be able to go on a hike with his Uncle Graham, who came with Auntie Karen for a visit to Boulder.

Henry had lots of fun with Auntie Karen, who stayed with us for three days.  He grew quite attached.  The proof was when we crossed the street and he chose to hold Auntie Karen’s hand instead of mine.  Too bad Karen and Graham left so soon, otherwise, we would have taken them to the Carousel Festival in Nederland, which turned out to be one carousel and a tent with some brass music, but we had fun anyway.

One last funny exchange before signing off:

Mommy: Henry, would you like me to cut your sandwich into quarters?

Henry (with wide eyes): Yes!  And nickels and dimes, too!

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Posted By admin on June 15, 2011

So,  after such a wordy post about Houston, this one will be mostly photos of the water baby and his family.  How Henry loves Aya-and-Papa’s house!  Especially, of course, the pool.

Henry’s favorite activities were hanging out on the beach an squirting swimmers with a water pistol that was impossible to fill, and jumping.

We did find time for other activities, such as biking around the neighborhood

and playing with Papa.

One day, when Aya had to work substitute teaching, Papa took me and Henry into Daytona, where we visited the Daytona Speedway

and had lunch at McK’s pub.

Aya and Papa are used to afternoon naps these days, and Henry often joined them.  Guess which one of the three rarely slept.

Things livened up with Uncle Mark, Aunt Cheryl and Marky showed up.  The first thing we all did, of course, is jump back into the pool.

Mark showed off his usual prowess at trick diving

But Henry was not to be outdone.

We spent equal amounts of time at the beach, where Henry exulted in the sand and the waves and Marky.

Henry’s getting brave about going in the water by himself.  He’ll go up to his waist and manage to stay up most of the time.  He’s getting more frightened of the deep water, however, and doesn’t want to go in even when being held.

Mark brought a cast net to the beach and managed to catch a few small silvery fish.  Henry and Marky and a few other kids dug a little tide pool and they dropped the fish in there, catching and releasing them with their hands.  I worked hard at getting them to return them to the sea after a while, and Henry seemed the most empathetic, getting in the face of one older boy and shouting, “You have to let them out of the bottle!  They will die in there!  They need to go in the ocean!”  Despite his best efforts, I’m afraid a few of them didn’t make it.

The vacation ended with a traditional sojourn to the Daytona boardwalk, where Marky and Henry rode the ferris wheel, the slide

and the go karts.  Henry, being small, drove his Uncle Mark around, who showed him how best to express himself in the midst of Daytona boardwalk culture.

We’re home now, and Henry is still talking about Aya-and Papa’s house (he’s also still talking about Rosie Rosebud (Rosebutt) from his birthday party six months ago, but that’s a different story) asking me, over and over, when he can go back.

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Posted By admin on June 13, 2011

Yes, I know it’s June, not April, but I need to catch up on posts, and instead of doing one monster post, I figured I’d split it into two so it isn’t so overwhelming.

This spring, we decided to sign up for a plot in the community garden (with Floyd promising REPEATEDLY that he would help.  In the first month, he came to the garden, looked it over, and said, “Yep, it looks great,” then wandered off, not to be seen again until the third week of May when he planted some tomato plants), and Henry has been a very active participant.  He loves using garden tools, which he calls his “garden plotters,” and he digs, waters, “dirts” (throwing dirt on the flowers), and picks the flowers off the turnip plants to give to Sophia, a four year old who is often in the garden when we are.  When we first started, Henry helped me turn over plot, and when we were done, he said, “Look Mama!  We turned the whole earth over!”

As it is June and not really April, I can say that the garden is doing fairly well, seeing as how it is under a tree and gets a lot of shade, but we’ve already begun harvesting radishes (a photo to come later), and our turnips, beets, snow peas, carrots, and swiss chard are looking fine.  The strawberry plants are struggling and I expect a squirrel has gotten to all of our corn, but I just planted some lettuce mix, and I expect it will do well.

We had been looking forward to/dreading April because of the trial in Houston.  The conclusion was everything we hoped for.  After a three-day trial, Robert David Golden got life imprisonment without parole.  The prosecuting attorney was amazing, and the jurors all came out afterward to talk with us and to express sympathies.  A few were in tears.  It was a very powerful experience.

Henry’s experience of Houston was somewhat different.  I’m pretty sure he had no idea about the trial and why we were there.  At lease, he didn’t then.  Recently, while going to get his haircut with Floyd, Henry asked his daddy out of the blue, “Daddy, is Grammie Sue dead?”   Floyd chose to change the subject, but as Henry turns the corner on three and a half, he’s starting to understand the concept of death.  I hate it.  I hate it because he’s only beginning to understand, and says he’s going to kill everything from ants to the bad guys to the couch.  And I hate it because he understands enough to say things like, “Mama, I don’t want you to get older.  I don’t want you to die.”

(And why must he understand death?  He barely understands life.  One of his favorite games is to crawl under the covers of our bed, and I pretend that I’m pregnant and talking to a nurse who tells me I have a baby inside me and I tell her she must be wrong and, really, it must just be too much butter in my belly, and she says, no in a little while a baby will come out of your belly, and then Henry starts to move his arms and legs around and I say oh my, that butter is moving around in my belly, and then he pops out from under the covers and I say look at that! A baby!)

But back to Houston, where he loved spending time with Aunt Chloe, Grandpa Michael and Aunt Gina.

Given the circumstances, he unfortunately spent much of his time with me, usually at the hotel pool,

and one afternoon we went to the Houston Aquarium, which also had an outdoor play area with rides and a fountain.

It also had rides, like the ferris wheel which Henry rode a bazillion times

and ginormous lollipops.

Whenever I think about how little Henry resembles me, I remember that resemblance goes beyond physical appearance.  This boy’s love of sweets, pickles, ice and pepperoni mimics my own toddler palate.

We returned home to Boulder in time for Easter, and together with my friends Michelle and Carol, we planned an impromptu Easter egg hunt.

Michelle’s oldest boy David has a couple of years on the three younger boys, and so he had the jump on them when it came to finding eggs, so when he brough the eggs he found to Michelle, she hid them again. Clever one, that girl!  Henry’s strategy of following David around didn’t really pay off, but he did all right.  He was particularly partial to the ones stuffed with peeps.

Luckily, Henry is a collector, but not an accumulator or an accountant.  With everything he collects (sticks, rocks, gravel, pieces of plastic garbage, pine cones, wood chips, etc.), Henry gathers, hands them to me to keep, and then conveniently forgets all about them.  I have surreptitiously dumped piles and sticks and rocks outside when he isn’t looking.  Similarly, he was thrilled to collect the eggs, hand them over to me, and then forget all about them.  Which means while thankfully he avoided subsequent sugar rushes and crashes from jelly beans and malted milk eggs, I didn’t.

The Easter egg hunt ended with some swinging with Orion and Liam

and once back in the apartment, the outing ended with Superman and Wolverine (note the Wolverine claws), as all outings (and stories and games) seem to these days.

And one funny exchange for those of you who’ve managed to make it all the way through.

Me: Henry, do you want me to slice your sandwich into quarters?

Henry (eyes wide and noddding): Yes.  And into nickels and dimes, too.

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Posted By admin on March 30, 2011

The world is full of injustice.  As a 3 year old toddler of the world, Hank understands this as well as any bearded French philosopher.  Even Hank has limits to what he will tolerate though.  This evening, as we huddled around the TV for a pleasant family viewing of the only show on the History channel that does not involve UFOs or pyramids, “Top Shot”, Hank saw something that he did not like.  What he saw was a group of grown men target shooting at jars of candy.  Oh no! This will not stand! Hank leapt to his feet and cried out, “why are they shooting at the candy?!” He then ran and grabbed one of his sticks and began to unload on the TV. Bang! Bang! Bang! When his mama asked him not to point his stick at the nice gentlemen on the screen because “we don’t shoot at people”, Hank wasn’t having it: “But mama, they’re bad guys! They’re shooting the CANDY!!!” He then marched up to the TV, stuck out his tongue, and blew spittle all over the screen in the mightiest raspberry he could muster.  Absolutely livid! It’s comforting to a parent to see that his or her child has strong convictions, even when they center on the sanctity of candy.  We won’t be watching any more “Top Shot”, though.   Hank’s heart can’t handle it (and neither can our TV).

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