Posts Tagged ‘ flat tire ’

Frozen Tire Vs. Frozen Mac-And-Cheese Pizza

Saturday, December 7th, 2013

3 years.

Dear Jack,

What do a frozen tire and a frozen mac-and-cheese pizza have in common? Other than them both having a Pac-Man sort of thing going on in that picture collage, they were two important plot devices in today’s story.

Let me back up to where the story actually begins, with Mommy quietly waking up at 8:03 AM. She had let me sleep in; I had stayed up until past midnight writing yesterday’s letters to you.

“Nick… something happened to my tire. I just looked out the window. It’s flat. What do we do?”

It’s been a while since I’ve had to change a flat tire to a spare to get it down to the nearest tire store… probably a dozen years, but for some reason, I tend to think most clearly first thing in the morning and late at night. (Evidently my head is just in the clouds for most of the day in between.)

The nearly brand-new tire for Mommy’s car got a nail in the side of it, and overnight, it froze after it flattened.

As it began snowing, you watched me through the front door, making snake shapes out of your Thomas the Train track against the glass.

Thank God this happened on the one day of the week where it didn’t really interfere with our family’s schedule. Had this happened any other day than Saturday morning, it definitely would have been quite annoying and offensive us getting to work and school, or at least church.

Lucky for you, Mommy and I let you pick out a toy car while the tire was getting replaced. You chose a green 1963 Aston Martin, by the way.

(Not to self: Always buy the extended warranty on tires from Firestone… We only had to pay 20 bucks to cover taxes and a re-up on the warranty. Brand-new tire and labor, $20.)

What could have been a really bad day, where I wasn’t able to change the flat to the spare to drive it to the tire store, meaning we had to pay for a tow truck or something, and where I didn’t fork out the extra cash last time for the extended warranty, we would have lost hundreds of dollars today.

Instead, only 20 bucks.

Plus, you got a very special treat for lunch once we got back to our house. I couldn’t have planned it this way, but yesterday, Annie’s Homegrown had someone personally deliver one of their new Macaroni & Cheese pizzas for you to try.

I’ve always been very outspoken in promoting their company, like a couple of months ago when I reported that they were ranked #10 on Forbes’ list of Best Small Companies in America.

By default, I have become a brand evangelist for Annie’s Homegrown, so passionate about the fact that they are committed to saying no to GMO’s (and Monsanto) and petroleum-based food dyes (like Kraft uses).

And by default, you have become an unoffical poster child for them.

(We’re even trying to work it out where we can visit their headquarters in Berkely next summer when we visit Mommy’s side of the family in Sacramento.)

So, unsurprisingly, Annie’s Homegrown chose you as one of the first kids in America to review their new Macaroni & Cheese pizza. I kept a little notepad handy to document your thoughts on it:

After seeing Mommy pull it out of the oven, you proudly proclaimed, “I’m going to eat all of that pizza!”

I should point out that you didn’t know you were doing a food review, so I found it pretty interesting that on your own, after you finished the last bite, you provided solid and definite feedback that I didn’t even ask you for:

“Daddy, I like this new mac-and-cheese pizza you got me.”

So I think that pretty much sums it up for the folks at Annie’s Homegrown and for the other curious kids across America who heard about that new mac-and-cheese pizza:

Jack liked it!

Since I was already recording everything you were saying, I want to remind you of the last thing you said before I stopped writing it all down:

“No Huggies, no kissies, ’til I see that wagon bean!”

(That’s your verson of the 1986 hit by The Georgia Satellites, “Keep Your Hands To Yourself.”)

The highlight of my day, though, was going back through the pictures of today’s events and seeing the parallel pictures, comparing me changing and rolling the flat tire in the morning to you changing and rolling your “brown tire” (the base of a papasan chair) later in the afternoon.

It wasn’t a coincidence you were doing that.

Yeah, that pretty much made my day, kid.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Disclaimer: The food mentioned in this story was provided at the expense of Annie’s Homegrown, for the purpose of reviewing.

 

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That Silly Purple 1983 Chevy Silverado Lowrider Truck!

Monday, April 22nd, 2013

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

While my flat tire was being replaced at WalMart on Thursday morning, I decided to let you pick out a toy car. I was willing to spend some of my blow money (that’s Dave Ramsey lingo) on you; as much as $10.

You had been saying for the past month, “I want a purple monster truck.” So I figured you’d finally get it.

As soon as we stepped up to the toy car aisle, we stood before a wall of cool Monster Jam monster trucks, with a tough-looking purple one right there in our sight. You grabbed it.

Unlike U2 in 1987, you had actually found what you were looking for.

I thought, “Well, that was easy. How do we kill another 45 minutes?”

Then you saw a black monster truck… then a red one… and a green one…

Whichever new truck you discovered every 18 seconds, it automatically became superior to the previous one.

The original purple monster truck was 4 bucks, but now you were dipping into basic 97 cent Hot Wheels. I actually wanted to spend more money on you, distracting you with “Rasta Carian” from Mater’s Tall Tales, a $9 item.

You weren’t impressed with the dreadlocked Jamaican monster truck. (Really?!)

“Okay Jack, it’s getting about time for them to call my name over the speaker and tell me my car is ready. Go ahead and decide which one you want to take home,” I explained.

My own expectations had now been properly lowered. I guess I was just confused that you didn’t want me to buy what clearly you had been talking about for weeks.

And there it was, a purple… 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider with white and lime green flames.

That’s the one you just couldn’t let go of. So I spent 97 cents on you and you were completely happy.

I like spending money on you by buying you special gifts, but you don’t care how much money I spend on them. I mean, hey, I’m not complaining.

You just seem to like the adventure of obtaining and opening a new gift. Then you always trace that gift back to the event in which you got it.

Sure enough, you have been bragging to everyone you see about your new purple truck.

Not just any purple truck, but that silly purple 1983 Chevy Silverado lowrider that Daddy got you when his tire got a nail in it and had to be replaced… or as you say it, “Daddy, yours tire fell off?”

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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The Daddy Diaper Bag: Okiedog Review

Saturday, April 20th, 2013

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Thursday morning as we pulled out of the neighborhood, you asked me:

“What’s that sound, Daddy?”

Minutes later, a man in a pick-up truck next to me motioned to my back tire. Fortunately, we happened to be very close to a WalMart, where we learned my tire had a big silver nail in it and that the tire would have to be replaced.

For months now, I have meaning to get my own diaper bag to keep in my car for you.

Given that you and I spend at least 7 hours a week together in my car, it makes sense that I should have a “daddy diaper bag” to remain with me wherever I am with you.

Interestingly enough, Thursday morning happened to be the morning I placed my new daddy diaper bag in my car, in the seat next to you. Then minutes later, the flat tire situation happened.

So during the 2 and a half hour event, I had books, toys, snacks, and of course, diapers for you; right there all in one place. It’s strange to think that before this week, I didn’t even carry diapers with me in my car!

But now, we’re all set. And not only do I have a daddy diaper bag, I actually have a really nice, trendy one from OkieDog.

I noticed that the particular bag I chose, the Urban Sphinx, is specifically designed for a man. Just like the way a man compartmentalizes his thoughts in a very cut-and-dry manner, the bag is evidently designed this way too.

The bag actually reminds me of my car itself, a Honda Element, in that it is simple, practical, efficient, and very low-maintenance.

Those are all adjectives that, as a man, are important to me in describing things I own.

Like a Honda Element, my daddy diaper bag contains no cloth or fabric, making it very easy to clean.

It has a plastic carabiner-type device on a key ring behind the main flap, making it very easy to find my keys. (That’s why I hate Mommy’s purse… I always have to dig around for her keys!)

Something else that made me smile about my daddy diaper bag is that it comes with a couple smaller zippered bags; perfect for wet wipes or snacks.

I like how nothing about it is hidden: All the pockets and compartments are easily visible and obtainable. (I am assuming it was designed by a man because everything about it speaks to me in my language?)

In other words, nothing about it reminds me of a purse, like our other diaper bag.

Son, this is our masculine diaper bag. It has already experienced its first adventure with the two of us.

Here’s to many more father and son adventures! Hopefully, they won’t involve me buying a new tire for my car…

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Attention Dadabase Readers: Here’s a coupon code that gives you a 10% discount on orders from the okiedog.com site: 2296.  

It will be good through the end of May 2013. Also, Okiedog will soon be offering free shipping on all products to Amazon Prime members.

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