I’m just mad about savron…

All the things Link said, all the things Link said, running through my head…

You might be reading that title thinking “What a dummy, he doesn’t even know how to spell saffron”. You might also be reading that title thinking, what is that supposed to mean? You might also be reading the title and thinking, I have no idea what that is from. Some of you may not have figured out that 90% of my titles and captions are song or movie references. Some of you aren’t even reading the title. Some of you aren’t even reading this.

Let me address all of these: I certainly am a dummy, but for many many other reasons than my ability or inability to spell saffron. It should be noted that I spent a good deal of my childhood watching cooking shows so I have a pretty good sense of how to spell most spices. Right back to it, check, not a dummy for spelling, dummy for other things, moving on.

The title is a quote from Donovan’s song “Mellow Yellow”. I have an eclectic taste in music and pull from all genres. For those that didn’t know I quote movies and songs all the time in my posts… Well, if you don’t know, now you know. Addressing the 2 not reading items… well… I mean it’s your choice, you might be missing out on something fun and quirky. Honestly, who are we kidding here, you’re not missing anything, I’m shocked every time I see more than 3 people read this thing.

Finally, the point of the message (I know, you were thinking it would never come. Honestly, so was I! This guy can drone on about mundane things for hours, I don’t even know why I keep coming back. (He talks to himself more than he talks to us. It’s really annoying (Yeah, who does he think he is? He’s the “writer” so he thinks he gets to decide what we want to read?(Wasn’t this blog supposed to be about his family?))) I bet you thought I was gonna miss this parenthesis. (I didn’t!)) this blog post is all about things Link says. I’m gonna cover a few and I am sure I will have more in the future.

So he’s wearing what my other boys affectionately call a “stratch out” shirt. This is a tank top people, I have no idea how it got the name “stratch out” though I think it’s related to the extra room in the shirt and they boys felt like they could “stretch out”. I could be wrong on the details here, I’ll let someone correct me later. Anyhow this is a little Nike tank top shirt.

Link, always the animated one, starts talking about how great his shirt is, he decides to start describing it. “It’s balue and it has da words on it. I love my savron shirt, it’s da best!” He always talks with his hands, so they’re waving pretty good at this point.

“Wait, what? You love what buddy?” I ask.

“Uh, daaad, my SAVRON shirt!” he replies.

Still clueless I ask, “Oh… what’s savron, duder?”

“Daaaahd, it’s da game! Savron!” he says to me with a furrowed brow. He also does this thing where he looks down and to the left when he’s getting really serious. Almost like side eyeing you.

As a parent of more than one kid, I figured out a long time ago that kids speak the same language. I check with the other boys, they have no idea what he’s talking about.

I go back to Link and I ask him, “Hey buddy, can you tell me about savron?”

Arms go to waving, brow furrowed, “Daaaaaahd! You know, SAVRON! When dey run and kick da ball up and down.”

There you have it folks, savron is soccer.

My all time favorite entry into the Linxicon (see what I did there, I portmanteau’d Link and lexicon, man I’m so clever) is “blanklet”. He means blanket, but he always says “blanklet”. I only call them blanklets now too. We’ve decided this one will stick, I don’t care how much he hates it when he gets older.

I was going to provide a few more entries, but I rambled about some stuff (shocking, right?) and feel like my word count is reaching the quota. Until next time, snuggle up under your blanklet and tune your television to a savron match.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you’ve been waiting for…

That seems awfully presumptive of me doesn’t it? Presumptive? Presumptuous? I dunno, I’n not going to change it. Really though, the important part…

It’s time to meet the boys! There’s no way to cover all that has happened in the last eight years, so I’m just gonna start fresh here. In no particular order, except age ascending, these are my boys:

It’s dangerous to go alone, take this…

This is Lincoln, we call him Link. Honestly, we named him Lincoln only because we wanted to use the nickname Link (Yes, the reference above IS from Zelda and I am proud to have named my child with that reference in mind (For those keeping records Link to the Past might be the greatest game ever made (I am quite a fan of Breath of the Wild though. (This rabbit hole was deep)))). I know you’re probably thinking, why would they do that? Well that’s my business and I don’t have to tell you (or I don’t really have a good reason). Link is 3 years old. He’s adorable and he knows it. He says the craziest things and is unintentionally funny. He’s a lover, he likes to call your name and tell you “I love you, you’re the best”. It’s the sweetest thing ever.

He’s smart, too smart. A few months ago, he started this thing where he would ask me if I bought him a toy that he was playing with. In most cases, the answer was no, we’d had the thing for quite a while, but he would insist that I bought it for him. Eventually I relented and just started telling him “Yeah, I bought that for you”. He’d respond with “Thanks Dad, you’re the best!” I mean, of course, I just kept telling him I bought him all the stuff, why wouldn’t I?

Well, turns out the little stinker was using it to his advantage. When his brothers would ask him for a toy, he’d tell them “Dad bought this for me” as a reason to not share. It took me weeks to figure out this was what he was doing. Smart little guy. If you want a snuggle he’s your man, he loves to give hugs.

Hippity Hoppin, Rhyster’s on his way…

This is our Rhyster Bunny, who no longer likes to be called Rhyster Bunny. I can’t blame him, I called him “Bunny” for a year or so, then “Buns” for a bit. He still lets me call him Rhyster occasionally. For my friends here in the US, no, this is not the traditional American way to spell “Reece or Reese”, but it is pronounced essentially the same way. This is the Welsh spelling, we really got into British TV several months before he was born and we just loved the spelling. Also, it has a softer “s” sound, more like Reez.

Rhys is determined, he’s a little ball of emotion, often anger is the emotion we see. He’s the one most likely to have a breakdown over nothing. He can be amazingly loving. He loves to sing. He’s constantly singing. I often have to tell him things like, “Buddy, I love your face and I love your singing, but you have to stop for a bit.” or “Rhys, stop.” We often say he is made of music. He’s 5 years old and he picks out and sings harmonies, it’s pretty incredible.

He loves to help if he has chosen to help, he doesn’t love to help if he is told to help. Sometimes we get creative and let him believe he has made the decision to help, this usually makes him feel better about the situation. I would call Rhys street smart, he would probably make a savvy businessman. He’s a bulldozer, he just plows through everything and likely it will be hurt and not him. If you do some back reading on my blog, there’s a little tidbit about me breaking things unintentionally, this was passed on to Rhys.

We were lost and found, in the Nik-o time…

Lastly and certainly not least, a reintroduction of sorts. This is the boy that make all of this happen. This is Nikolas, we call him Niko, pronounced “Nee-koh”, I realize the quote above may make someone think it’s “Nick-Oh” it’s not, I was just stretching for a quote. He’s 8 years old now, kind, loving, helpful, smart, (Oxford commas are the only way to go. Go ahead and fight me on this one. (Seriously, you’re gonna go into proper grammar and sentence structure after that last horribly structured run-on sentence? (Yes, I am.))) and goofy.

Niko loves art, he could draw all day long and on many days has. He’s the kind of kid that seeks approval and hates to disappoint. This is something that is really hard for me to relate to, because I am squarely in the “who cares what anyone else thinks” camp. (This is clearly reinforced by my constant use of asides that no one else cares about.) Niko loves to tell jokes and often finds ones that make me chuckle. He’s really intelligent but at times really lacks common sense. It’s something we have to remind him of a lot. He cares for his brothers and wants to take care of them. He’s gonna be a good dad some day.

So, those are my boys, you’re all caught up, give me another 8 years and I’ll give you another update. I jest, there are so many stories to tell and so many more are being made as I write this. I can’t wait to share them with you (I know, you’re thinking, clearly he can, it took 8 years for this one).

This post is not for you.

Hello dear reader,

This post is not for you. While few, I’m sure there are some of you out there still. Maybe someone is discovering this blog for the first time, or maybe you remember me as the guy with the Shakespearen poo jokes. You might remember me as the guy that destroyed a crib or two or maybe the guy that turned a deer carcass into a car ramp. Yep, that’s me.

You might be thinking, this guy abandoned us. Or maybe this guy doesn’t know me. All of these are true. I’m not gonna apologize. I’m not gonna apologize because this post isn’t for you.

You’re probably thinking “Oh, this guy… he sure loved to bait and switch us.” You wouldn’t be wrong.

I’m not apologizing though, because this post is not for you. You might think that I keep mentioning that this post isn’t for you, so it must be, like some weird reverse psychology thing. It’s not.

I’ve never considered writing a passion for me. I don’t even think I’m good at it most of the time. No, I’m not fishing for compliments, remember this post isn’t for you. I think for me writing is a release. There’s so much going on in the world, but I’m not gonna talk about any of that. I’m not going to apologigize for keeping politics and world issues out of my blog. Especially since this post isn’t for you.

So I’m going to do my best to use this forum to provide a little levity, a little humor in these times where there doesn’t seem to be a lot of humor. This is all for me of course, because this post isn’t for you.

Here’s the payoff if you’re still reading, which I don’t know why you would be, because you already know this post isn’t for you. It’s been 8 years since I posted last. I now am blessed with 3 crazy boys, ages 8, 5, and 3. I’ll have many stories to tell and I’ll do my best to add my unique spin on it all.

Obviously the point of all of this is for me to remember. To look back and say “Oh, yeah, that happened. Can you believe it?” I guess I’ll let you follow along. Maybe even allow you to comment on my posts. If you’re lucky, I might comment back. I’m not making any promises or commitments on frequency of posts and I shouldn’t have to, after all, this post isn’t for you.

This post is for me.

Ok, maybe it is for you too… just a little bit.