5 Years Old On the Horizon

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Well Baby Rangirl, your tiny smoosh face turns 5 and it was a debate on what to do for your birthday party. Do we get a party going at home? 

No, you declared. Probably for the best, the adults tend to get more lit than the kids on candy overdose and we’re all like:

We went glow-in-the-dark bowling recently, and suggested that for a party. “Nope”, despite you acknowledging its coolness. 

In the running is some sort of bouncy/jumpy place…you and your baby bro love your gymnastics:

I guess the parents can be sober for a minute and have shots of chocolate milk (not pictured here, because I mean…milk?):

We hope that no matter what comes of the birthday event itself, you dig your new ride. Baby Ranboy lent his mechanics skills to help get it ready for your big day:

5 years old is a big deal in the Ranman household. I finally get to stop using that baby booster seat of yours in the car with 52 buckle straps. Sorry, I mean: you’re getting older, boo hoo, and other sentimental stuff. 


New Friends 

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As you read this, Baby Rangirl, I have no idea how much you’ll regret the names given to our new cats. But as of 4.75 years of age, you hate the name “Starboy”, which I’ve given the male kitten. You even ignore my name-giving abilities and call “Starboy” by his maiden name: Malibu. 

Well screw Malibu. That name is dead to the Ranmans. 

You got to keep the name “Sweetie”, given at the adoption center, for the female cat. 

I mean…Sweetie is the only cat that likes you!

And here they both are as kittens:

And here’s your brother making a mess:

That is all. 

Parent Teacher Conference 

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For the first time ever, Mommy Ranman and I were on the opposite end of a conference which involved parents that weren’t our own. Despite only being in Pre-K, I suppose Baby Rangirl’s school system wanted to give us all the feels before these kids grow up and disappoint. How messed up could Baby Rangirl be at 4 years of age?

We were bracing for the “…but” after each sentence the teacher delivered in praise of our little girl. Lots of “buts” on my end (see what I did there?) when my father had to go to school with me. I didn’t have a review that involved non-smartass problems until I was a senior in high school and Grandpa Ranman gave up “being tortured” as he’d describe. 

I just hope Baby Rangirl continues to wow these teachers before the Ranman laziness kicks in. 

And now, pictures:

Baby Ranboy took his shirt off. Probably was rooting on the hero in his favorite cartoon. 

The Hulk for Halloween:

Our princess. Also pictured: our parent juice in their containers. 

Brother and sister being parented by the TV:

Farewell Furball

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This is kinda weird, Baby Rangirl. I fully expected both you and your brother to get the references to our cat, A. J. (aka “Buju”) as you guys read this blog at a later age. But after putting the cat down last week, you’ll have to rely on pictures and inconsistent stories from your mother and I. 

Here A.J. was on the day before we had to put her down, barely eating at this point:

And then the hard part. Getting rid of Baby Ranboy’s toys he’s been growing out of along with anything cat-related:

The cat was an endearing little buggar: knocked everything down but was there when you’ve lost your job. We should be able to place things at eye level again. Plants, holiday decorations, iPhones, new furniture- all free to roam with no cat swiping at them. 

But we still have a 1-year-old monster walking around. He’s ready to pick up where the cat left off. 

From invading our space…

…to our fridge…

Well little A. J. , you’ll live on via the tattoos we just got. And both kids paid tribute by waking up last night multiple times to ensure Mommy Ranman and I received very little sleep. Similar to when you’d meow all night. Their own tattoo, if you will. But on my eyelids. 

Cry. It. Out. 

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Look little Ranboy. Just because you recently received my support for favorite kid after Butthole Rangirl declared she likes Mommy Ranman more, it doesn’t mean you get a free pass at life. We’ve been way too tolerant of bringing you to our bed when you wake up- and that nonsense must stop. 

You just have way too many limbs and use brute force in your sleep. That way-too- big-head of yours becomes an extra weapon in your sleep warfare and I think it gave me a concussion one time. Summer- long plans prevented us from trying to sleep train, which requires at least three straight nights. 

And I’ve complained ever since Baby Rangirl what horsepoop it is that we have to teach kids how to do something as natural (and oh so wonderful) as how to sleep. 

Well you little turd, it’s 3AM and you’re finally asleep after waking up at 2AM. Since Mommy Ranman and I are driven by annoyance, it was easy to hear you yell at the top of your lungs for attention. Just go to sleep dude, you’ll find no solace in our bed till you learn what nightmares are. 

9/19/16- When Our Friendship Takes A Turn

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By howdy does it ever, Baby Rangirl. I ain’t gonna remember much by the end of the day, but today I’m going to recall this as when you declared war: “I like mommy more better than you!”

Now this may be the pivotal strain on our young relationship every father/daughter combo must endure- I just thought I had some more time, yah know? Early 90’s sitcom has taught me that I’d regret having a daughter come 13 years of age. But 4? 

Fine. Go love your mammy more than me. Today marks the day I pull back on the Toys for Baby Rangirl program, and reinvest in the underfunded Your Brother is Cuter Anyways foundation. You friggin poopie face mcpoop face. 

Here’s a time when you 2 actually got along and were both in my favor….

…monster feet and all:

But I guess this is now top dog:

Bumps and Bruises

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Mommy Ranman left me to watch Baby Ranboy one afternoon whilst we worked from home. She stepped away for 20 seconds and Baby Ranboy ate the tile with some sort of dramatic fall to the floor. I soon became the dad who can’t watch his kid. 
Days later I noticed Baby Ranboy take 2 falls on Mommy Ranman’s watch ever since my offense. 3 falls if we count the start of the new fiscal calendar. 

But I forget the competition Mommy Ranman and I are having to see who drops the kid the least, and go on a date nights to get away from all the douchebagedgry that comes with 2 kids:

Kids put you out of your element, like the time I mounted batman for Baby Ranboy’s first birthday. 

Here he is at “Bring Your Kids to Work Day”, pretending to be Batman:

What about Baby Rangirl? Well that chica is all about playing house with the boys now. All the nope. 

Be a good brother and stop your sister from growing up Baby Ranboy!

Ugh fine. Goldfish crackers are more important.

Here’s some first birthday antics:

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