Crappy Pictures - Page 2 of 139 - Illustrated with Crappy Pictures

This is winding back the time when Crappy Boy was not yet two…

We have a funeral to attend. Friend of the family. Of course this means that all of our babysitters will be there so the only way for us to come is if we bring Crappy Boy.

I really don’t want to bring him so I offer to stay home. Let Crappy Papa go alone. A funeral is no place for an eighteen-month-old.

But as usual, the rest of the family talks me into it. It will be fine! Everyone loves to see babies at funerals, it makes them happy! If he gets loud you can step out! Everyone will understand!

I bring a whale of a bag. I have books and markers and stickers and toys and snacks and diapers and clothes stuffed in its belly.

We sit down in the very last row by the doors. He is happily and quietly looking at picture books.

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The ceremony starts, “Friends and family, we are gathered here today…”

And all is well. For a moment, I think this will actually be okay.

Then suddenly, the pipe organ starts up. It is really loud.

Crappy Boy looks up from his book with wide eyes.

Immediately after the song ends they say, “And now may we have a moment of silence…”

And right then, right then when the entire room is completely silent, Crappy Boy starts CLAPPING for the music and yells:

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(He must have thought it rude that nobody else appreciated the music. He was being encouraging to the pipe organ player!)

Amidst some shocked turned heads (and thankfully a few giggles) I snuck us out of there as fast as possible. For the next hour we busied ourselves with snacks and songs on a bench near Al Jolson’s monument. (The songs came about after Crappy Boy asked me about the Al Jolson statue and who he was.) It was a beautiful day with birds and flowers everywhere.

What started as complete embarrassment is now a lovely, lovely memory. One of my magical moment memories even.

It always works that way, doesn’t it?

Got one to share?

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By the way, the family friend who died would have loved this story. So it’s all good.

Crappy Baby and the Backyard Birds

We’ve been really busy with sickness and husband-out-of-town-ness. For over a week.

It has been brutal and is the reason I haven’t answered any emails to the point where people are sending me second emails “did you get my email?” followed by third emails “are you okay?” and so on. I’m just catching up today and finally have a few minutes to write.

It was just yesterday when I realized that everyone is healthy again and we’re back to normal…

We’re in the backyard. It is a beautiful, sunny day. I’m sitting on a patio chair looking out over the yard.

So peaceful.

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I’m watching the cute little birds pecking in the grass under the apple tree.

Then suddenly:

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Crappy Baby comes tearing through my peaceful scene and screaming at the birds.

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I ask him why he is scaring the birds.

I assume that he is going to tell me he is pretending to be a monster or something. In which case I’ll tell him it’s not nice to scare the birds and blah, blah, blah.

Instead, he looks almost hurt. Misunderstood.

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Then he explains:

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I can’t help but laugh at the thought of birds needing “help” back into the trees. He explains that birds are “supposed to be in trees” so he is just helping them get off the ground.

And with that, Crappy Boy laughs his butt off. And can’t help but join in too:

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They weren’t satisfied until they “helped” all the birds back in the trees. And of course (being backyard birds who are used to us) they kept falling back down to the ground.

It was a hilarious scene. It ended a few minutes later with them giving up “the birds can’t stop falling down!” and laying down on the ground laughing. Together.

This marked the first time in over a week that they ran around and played happily together. So glad we’re back here.

And huge thanks to the birds for putting up with it.

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I’m sure there are roughly 3.2 people who are offended by the idea of scaring innocent birds. Sorry. I could say a whole bunch of snarky stuff about how these birds fly into the trees even when I calmly walk across the yard so maybe you’d like me to respect them and never go outside again. Or how really, it’s our yard and they’re just trespassers shitting all over it. Or how their brains are so small that the moment they fly up into the tree they’ve forgotten the whole thing so relax, this won’t land them in therapy. But I won’t. We actually like our birds. We have a couple bird feeders that we keep stocked and a birdbath and a subscription to Birds & Blooms. We’re on the birds’ side. So there.