The Dimensions of a King Sized Bed

According to About.com's Guide to Bed Sizes (here), the measurements for a standard king sized bed (like the one I happen to have in my bedroom) are 76 inches by 80 inches. Now, let's talk about that for a second. I'm a single guy...a king is plenty for me. I could even get by with anything bigger than a full and you would think a California King would be just plain overkill. You would think...

I admit. Blitz occasionally (OK...every night) hops up on the bed and lays down. But that lasts for MAYBE 10 minutes and then he's off patrolling the house and finding his spot on the cool tile of the kitchen. But even when my 100 pound baby boy is plopping his lanky body down on the bed, I always seem to have plenty of room.

And then there's the other member of the household. She's blond, blue eyed, and has captured the hearts of millions...maybe even BILLIONS. Yes...I'm talking about my baby girl, Madelyn Delaney McCoy. The heart of my heart, the finger of which I am wrapped, and the WORST BED STEALER I'VE EVER MET. Let me put it this way...if there were a professional sport for bed stealing, Maddy would be the MVP of the championship game. If bed stealing were an art, Maddy would have every gallery in the Louvre AND the Guggenheim filled with her paintings.

Now let's remember that the dimensions for a standard king sized bed are 76 inches by 80 inches and let's say the dimensions for my (almost) three year old are approximately 30 inches by 15 inches.

Taking all this into account, why then do I end up fighting the edge of the bed on one side and my sleeping angel on the other side when my baby decides to sneak into bed with me?

Sunset...Based on a True Story

The mommy and the little girl are traveling home together one October evening when the mommy turns to the little girl and says "Isn't that a pretty sunset Maddy?"

The little girl looks and says "Yes, mommy. My daddy make that for me."

Isn't that the sweetest thing? Plus the fact that the mommy actually told the daddy all this. :)

Adventures in Kansas

As some of you may know, Maddy and I were recently in Kansas for a Hermsen family reunion (although some of the McCoy's showed up too). Here are some of the adventures:

Paparazzi - Thought I would get this on the internet before it just started appearing. We were checking out of one of the thousands of Topeka WalMarts and my lovely daughter decides she is going to play with the "Wet Floor" sign. Well, everyone just thought it was SO cute and SO funny. All of a sudden, Maddy had a little crowd around her with their cell phone cameras out. Can't the press just LEAVE HER ALONE?!

Bouncy Thing - Now, I've taken Maddy to Chuck Cheese (as she says it) and Kangaroo Joe's, but nothing, it seems, compared to the filthy, mouse chewed bouncy thing that was available to her in my Mother's back yard. Cousin Stan's bouncy thing had been in storage for quite a while and it could barely stay up from all the holes (forget about TWO people bouncing), but every morning was "I jump now, Daddy? I jump now?"

Baby Goats - I had suggested to my mother that we spend the day in Kansas City when we arrived, so she did some research and found the Deanna Rose Children's Farmstead. It is an operational farm that is supported entirely by donations. We spent nearly four hours there just wandering around petting sheep and GIANT cows, feeding baby goats, and looking at the huge Koi the had in one of the ponds. I was going to send her on a pony ride, but I couldn't walk with her and I don't know if she realizes how far down it is from the top of a pony. The highlight of the jouney was when Grandpa Joe grabbed a rooster and tossed it back into its pen. Talk about exciting!

New Socks - Maddy, being the brilliant and imaginative little girl that she is, decided to take Grandpa Joe's new bag of socks and make a toy. So, with Daddy's help, we got socks all the way up to her shoulders and to about halfway up her leg (over her PJs) and she danced around for about 20 minutes.

Coming Home - I think the trip really wore her out. As soon as the plane took off, my daughter's head was drifting down...down...down. I had to find a blanket to put on the arm rest because she kept bumping her head (even though she never really woke up).

My Tiny Dancer and Debate

I've been having a tiny debate inside my head. Its kinda hard to hear with all the other voices, but here's the summary as I have it so far.

I can:
1) Not post pictures of my baby in her dance outfit and have my mother beat me. Cons? The beating. Pros? My mother would have to actually visit.

2) I can post pics of my beautiful little girl in her dance regalia and let the masses adore the cuteness. Cons? No mother visit. Pros? No beating and mass enjoyment.

I don't know if the debate's done, but I think you can see what I've chosen. So, masses. Here she is. I can only think that this is what my sister was probably like when she went to ballet class and my father and I went and played video games.

Unconditional Love

OK, let me put it out there first and foremost...I know my daughter is not a dog, but right now, there's an unconditional love that just comes included with a two year old. You don't pay extra...you don't have to go through a big list of options and worry that you forgot to check "unconditional love" at closing. Sure...she gets mad and she has her fits, but even if I'm just in the other room for a while and she hasn't seen me, she will yell "DADDY" and come running with her arms wide open and a huge smile on her face.

Will she still love me when she's 12? I would assume so. I just think I'm going to miss the exuberance and the openness of it once she knows how to follow the "rules of society."

Terrible twos are nothing...I am preparing for the terrible teens!

Barbecue Forks: Only For Monsters

So, I started writing this post a couple weeks ago and in the time that I've been lazy and up to no good (at least not writing the blog), things have evolved. So here's the story:

Maddy and I were downstairs finishing lunch or something and all of a sudden, I see her wandering around with the extremely large (probably only seems that way since she's so tiny) and pointy fork from my grill. Now, I don't know how it got in the house and I don't know how she got a hold of it, but all of a sudden, here's my two year old waving around a deadly weapon with Blitz and I the next possible victims of her deadly slashing attack.

In my best patient and fatherly tone (I think everyone knows what that sounds like), I said "Maddy, give Daddy the fork. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Now, we all have battles that we know we could fight and simply choose to battle for something more important. Apparently, Maddy was thinking that giving up the fork would make room for a floor sprawling temper tantrum in Target on a future date because she simply thought for a moment and then presented the fork to me as a knight would present a sword to a king (I'm just making that part up).

I said "Baby, I don't want you to hurt yourself or anyone else with this. We don't poke people or Blitz or anyone with things like this." And here's where it broke down..."just monsters."

Maddy: "Just monters?"
Daddy: "Yes. Just monsters."

This was followed by a quick scan of the room from Maddy, a sudden widening of the eyes, her finger shooting out at the end of her stiff, straight little arm and an exclamation of "monter dair!" otherwise known as "monster there."

Daddy: "Where's a monster?"
Maddy: "Dair!" (pointing to a spot behind the couch)
Daddy: (with fork armed hand over the couch) "Poke poke poke."
And so went the afternoon.

It has now evolved into imaginary forks and both of us "poke poke poke" ing the monsters whenever we see them.

Coming Soon: "IT NOT DANCE, DADDY! IT BALLET!"