Butternut

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

And this is how 90-plus percent of the conversations between myself and my three-and-a-half-year-old son Ethan (who claims to still be two, by the way) begin.

"My name is Butternut," he tells me.

"Oh, OK. Hi Butternut."

"Hi."

"Is that Ethan Butternut Roe then?"

"No, just Butternut."

"Just Butternut. OK. Like Cher or Madonna. Or Iggy."

"Who's Iggy?"

"Iggy? He's a singer. He doesn't like wearing shirts. And sometimes he wears diapers. He's a very interesting man. He has a song called 'I Wanna Be Your Dog.' I could play it on my iPod for you."

"Not right now, Daddy."

"OK, Butternut. Maybe later. And thanks for telling me that your name is Butternut. I like to know these things."

"You're welcome. Now can you play with me?"

And that's how 90-plus percent of our conversations end.

Brevity, Soul of Wit, Etc.

What can you say in six sentences?

That's the question over at Six Sentences.

I suppose this is my response.

The Penis Sleeps

We went to the zoo last weekend. This would be the world famous San Diego Zoo. Family visiting, the holidays, etc.

Besides witnessing some overzealous Orangutan love and the $3.35 cup of coffee, the highlight was a conversation with my three-year-old son, Ethan.

We were walking back to the main entrance and stopped by the bathroom. He wasn’t exactly cooperating.

We headed into a stall, the familiar cajoling began.

"OK buddy. Let’s sit on the potty and go pee."

"I can't."

"You can’t?"

"I can’t go pee."

"Come on buddy. It’s a long drive back home. We just have to try. Just try to pee. No biggie. Just try."

"I can't."

"Look. We always do this. Before we leave somewhere we go potty, we go pee. It’s just what we do."

"But I can't. I can't go pee."

"You can't? You can't pee? Or you won't? Why not?"

"My penis is tired. It's sleeping."

Somehow I managed not to laugh. Imagining the other people in the bathroom hearing this prime material. Kids say the darndest things. It's true.

"Your penis is sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"Well OK. Let's try to wake it up."

It? Him? Whatever.

I made some kind of vague abracadabra gesture in the general vicinity of his groin.

"Wake up! Wake up penis!"

But it was a no-go.

"It's still tired. It's still asleep. I can't go pee, Daddy."

"You can't? Your penis can't wake up?"

"No, it's tired. It's sleeping."

Mission aborted. We left the bathroom and kept walking.

But there was one last bathroom by the main exit. This time my wife tried.

When they emerged, my wife gave the thumb’s up. Success.

"What happened, buddy? Do you go?"

"Yes, I did. My penis woke up and I went pee."

"That’s great, buddy."

"Yes, it is."

Happy New Year!

For Your Listening Pleasure

Recently I was invited to read at a DimeStories event. Writers read short (very short) stories that have to clock in at under three minutes.

I read my story "Stalling," and you can listen to it here. Also be sure to check out some of the other archived stories too.

Keep an eye out for DimeStories' upcoming National Public Radio program.

Beware of Dog

I think my son is officially afraid of dogs. He probably shouldn't read this little story, which just went up over at elimae.

Non-dog-fearing people, however, may consider checking it out.

Three Is the Magic Number

A new story over at Wigleaf.

They've been publishing some very cool stuff lately, by the way. And I'm not just saying that because they published one of my pieces. Really. Really.

Song of the Summer

Has to be "Sequestered in Memphis" by The Hold Steady, no? Oh wait, isn't summer over...