Lewis and Clark on the Missouri River


Captain Clark:  The wind is at our backs today Captain Lewis.  It should allow us to cover more ground than expected.  We’ll arrive at the French trading post in the Dakota Territory a few days from now.  Just before the Winter season descends.

Captain Lewis: Hmm.

Captain Clark: What is it?

Captain Lewis:  Whew.  You’re gonna want to kill me.

Captain Clark:  Why?

Captain Lewis:  I’m such an idiot.  Really, I don’t even know how I function.

Captain Clark: Out with it man!  What is troubling you?

Captain Lewis: I cannot for the life of me find my wallet.

Captain Clark: Your wallet?

Captain Lewis: Yeah.  We’ve got to turn around and go look for it.

Captain Clark: Are you mad?  We can’t backtrack now.  We’re low on supplies and the frost is coming.

Captain Lewis: I understand.  Believe me, I’m not thrilled about it.  But I mean, all of my stuff was in there.  Like, everything.

Captain Clark: Where do you think it is?

Captain Lewis: I don’t know.  Maybe like St. Louis.

Captain Clark: We’re not turning around.

Captain Lewis: Well, I technically outrank you.  So, yeah we are.  Men!   Turn around.  We’re going to St. Louis.

——– 2 months later ———–

Captain Clark: We’re finally within sight of St. Louis.  You can look for your wallet now.

Captain Lewis: Whew.  You’re gonna want to kill me.

Captain Clark: In your pocket the whole time?

Captain Lewis: Yep.

“This May Come As a Surprise, But You Can Be Pretty Annoying Too” by My Son


Listen, I know you were pretty upset about the whole thing with the shoes earlier today.  I don’t know what to tell you.  I’m very particular and I’m sure that’s difficult for you.  I had my heart set on wearing the Captain America Crocs, but you and mom apparently saw it differently.  I’m sure you had my best interests in mind, but I felt compelled to let you know that I disagreed.  I didn’t really know how else to express that other than tipping the kitchen chair over.  It just felt like the right thing to do at the time.

If I put myself in your shoes (which I’m sure are more comfortable than those awful Velcro blue things you put me in today BTW), I’m guessing I would react in a similar fashion.  The eye-rolling, the frustrated sighs, the under the breath swearing.  I get it.  However, I’d like to point out that, though this might come as a shock, you are pretty annoying too.

I’m still learning the intricacies of American social norms.  It may take me a while to understand that it is considered frustrating for one to poop in the bathtub or spill apple juice down the basement steps.  These are things that, while I’m still struggling to grasp the reasons why they are wrong, apparently annoy you and I will do my best to correct the behavior.  However, I feel it is important to remind you at this time that I am a little baby.  What’s your excuse?

Yesterday, I saw you get mad at a stapler.   That’s right, a stapler.  You tried to staple something and it didn’t work.  So you swore at it, slammed it against the desk and threw it in the trash can.  You got mad at it like it did something to you on purpose.  Made a big scene and interrupted my shape puzzle.  If I carried on like that, I’m pretty sure you’d yell at me.

Then you tried to sneak me apricots again.  I don’t know how much clearer I can be: get those things off of my high-chair table.  I don’t like them.  I don’t want them.  Maybe it’s a texture thing but I find them disgusting.  I’m really sorry you bought a big bag of them on accident one time at COSTCO.  I’m pretty sure mom already yelled at you about that but trying to pop them in my mouth when I’m not paying attention is irritating.  It’s like you don’t think I recognize a disgusting, gross apricot when I see one.  Give me a little more credit than that.

I’m not even going to talk at length here about the vacation that you took me on.  I’m sure I seemed ungrateful and whiney the whole time, but look at it from my perspective.  You strapped me in to that NASCAR Shoulder Harness car seat for 12-hours, dragged me into 98-degree weather, took away my normal bed and any semblance of a routine that I had set up and expected me to like it.  I don’t even form long term memories yet!  A trip to the beach is pretty much just going to fade in with everything else in these first three years.  Did we even go to the beach?  See?  I already don’t remember.

In closing, can you lighten up a little bit?   We’ll see if your attitude changes tomorrow when you try to wake me up.  I’ll probably throw my binky at you in protest.  Just remember: we’re family.   If we weren’t annoying each other, we’d really be in trouble.