Big Fat Belly Woman

   We have a baby girl named Julia.  At least she's our baby but at nineteen years of age and married some might think we need to move on.  When she first went to school, she loved it until in the first grade she realized that some of the other kids didn't always obey like she did.  Sometime, in fact, the teacher would have to "raise her voice" to get their attention.  Well, this made little Julia nervous and sometimes she would end up crying uncontrollably or even hyperventilating.  At first, we were mortified until we spoke with our doctor who assured us that this was a phase that would pass but that we'd all just have to deal with it.
   Unfortunately, it got a little worse.  When Julia heard her teacher sometimes yell, she'd try to comfort herself by swallowing.  She'd swallow air.  Then we started receiving phone calls from the school that Julia didn't feel well and we'd pick her up only to find that her little tummy was bloated.  Again, we took her to the doctor.  It took us awhile to figure out what she was doing because she didn't know that it wasn't good to keep swallowing air.  Finally, we figured out that Julia was doing it to herself.  Sometimes I discovered that I could calm her down using a bit of humor and started calling her the "big fat belly woman" (sounds cruel I know but it worked) and that seemed to distract her a bit.  Even as a little girl she'd have all sorts of emotions and when we'd ask her what was wrong she'd just cry and say, "I don't knoooooowww"!
   Later, once the initial concern about her condition was over, I'd sometimes catch her swallowing air again!  I'd ask her, "Are you still a big fat belly woman?"  "No!  I'm not a big fat belly woman!"

No she's not.  :)

"Dad! I Broke The Bathroom!"

   When my two oldest kids were small, my wife Terry was getting them ready for their bath which they often took together.  My son Ben had a bad habit of slamming doors (I guess not realizing his own strength) and upon arriving to the bathroom for bath time, he slammed the door as my wife was working with our daughter Katie.  Suddenly, the suspended ceiling started to come down as well as large chunks of plaster.  I happened to be away at the time jogging at a nearby high school track when Terry and the kids showed up.  To my surprise, Ben hopped out of the car and ran to me saying, "Dad!  I broke the bathroom!"
   What had happened was when the bathroom had been remodeled, whoever had done it (not me!) had tied up the ceiling to a SINGLE nail which had been gradually working its way out over several years.  When Ben had slammed the bathroom door, the vibration and vacuum apparently had worked together to dislodge the single nail.  Only with all the right conditions did the ceiling collapse as it did and thankfully, no one was hurt.  I did get hit a couple of times with "plaster shrapnel" as I fixed the ceiling and assured Ben that he wasn't responsible for "breaking the bathroom!"

At least that time.