Rip

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Listen Baby Rangirl. I want to consider you perfect. You’re the cutest thing on earth at five years old with your new glasses. This, after my fears of you being tortured by the kids at school- but I forgot that these little turds are still fine-tuning their insults. 

Also of note is the conversations you can keep. Thanks to pre-school, Spongebob, and other local experiences- you dazzle us with some new phrases everyday. It makes your attempts at the word “popsicle” seem less like a speech issue when you drop words like “chivalry” in proper context. 

But then you go ahead and do things like rip ass when I pick you up for a hug and crack yourself up. A steady rifle-sounding fart to my arm. Granted, I can be partially blamed for your interest in fart humor. I can’t help but laugh at the occasional blast. 

But there’s always a double standard as you’ll learn in society and the House of Ranman: we laugh at Mommy Ranman’s expense, not mine. Hopefully when you’re reading this we’ve come back from this betrayal. 

And if we’re still at war, I’ll leave you hanging when you need help. Like your brother who wouldn’t listen to me…and got stuck hanging over the tub:


And I won’t let you use MY mancave for your playground:


Things I do for you until that rip. 

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. 

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:

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:

Happy 1st Birthday, Baby Ranboy 

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Little buddy! You’re a man now! Countdown is 203 months & 30 days until the last little one of youse is out the house and off to college/unemployment line. 

As a pre-birthday gift, you went ahead and ordered yourself a little treat:


You little turd. No more remotes for you. You’re a big boy now. Thus begins the dismantling of huge play gadgets you used only once. We’re slowly reclaiming the living room back. 


And as a final hurrah I gave you a haircut, shaving off the Irish curls your mom was loving so much. She teared up, threatening to chop off my limbs if I mess with her little boy again. 

Good luck out there, Baby Ranboy. Mommy Ranman is a fierce beast when it comes to you kids…


…your sister- not so much love coming your way. So far every birthday gift you’ve received came with a Baby Rangirl disclaimer “is it my turn to play with Ranboy’s toy? Sharing is caring!”

I Can Do Whatever I Want To Do

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8 friggin’ words I thought were reserved exclusively for annoying teenagers and daughters who hate their dads. Guess we have the latter on our hands when Baby Rangirl contested my request to wash her hands. All over her cleansing her hands. Not her heathen soul

This 4 year old sucker has been really trying our fear of Social Services lately with statements that are well beyond any kid her age. I defended her scolding Mommy Ranman with “don’t you touch me!” as an act of self defense. The stifling Mommy Ranman kisses she delivers would cause any child to act in aggression. 

Yesterday, Baby Ranboy was pushed down by this tyrant. Baby Rangirl- as you read this blog in your old age please note this: that fear you still have of me began with this post. 

I’ll follow up on how the parents win in this situation. Odds are in our favor. We will restore harmony:

Till then, run for your life, little man. 

Tag Team

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Our house is under seige. Baby Rangirl fell asleep at 630 PM during the drive home from my parents and didn’t wake up until 12:30 AM to eat something that barely resembled a dinner. She proceeded to wake up two more times before ending up in bed with me as the result of bad dreams. I mean, when a mouse is eating your feet and it takes a witch to save you- that’s the type of dream we take seriously in the Ranman household. 

On Team Baby Ranboy, he was up since 1:30AM ever since Mommy Ranman decided to wake him up to take medicine for what I deemed a faint fever. Sure- he probably could have used the dose of meds; but I could have used the sleep more. He now resides in the guest room with Mommy Ranman after we both tried to put him to sleep via an episode of Ray Donovan, the rocking chair, a forbidden extra bottle of milk…

Everyone is finally settled by 3AM. And we all need to be up in 3 hours the latest. Yet, they both slept fine  during the onslaught of Independence Day fireworks. I’m going to have to come up with a name for this tagteam duo. “The Assholians” come to mind. 

“Oh look, Assholians are at it again!”

“Yea, I didn’t have any sleep due to the 1-2 punch from some Assholians.”

And now, pictures from the past week:

4th of July, locked in the house. They become a horrible twosome to watch whilst manning the grill:

Teamwork on the splash pad. Note: Baby Ranboy is wearing a size 18 months pants; waste is great but the length is clearly too much. #weightwatchers:

Baby Ranboy at Sears trying to help me track down a dishwasher that I’ve ordered since March. His presence helped refrain me from cussing them out:

And there he is in camouflage, navigating to the nearest flock of ladies on the beach:

…while Baby Rangirl gets to see a movie. 

Baby Ranboy pointing to hell, at least that’s where I feel he tells me to go each time I smother him:

Baby Ranboy’s first trip to the mechanics. No movie here, this is a manly trip for just the dudes. 

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