We got a Wii for Christmas last year (’09). I’ve mentioned before how I’m not real impressed with the Wii system, and that explains why I never mentioned getting the thing. As far as I’m concerned it’s pretty much just a toy for the boys.

Oh, we play some games as a family, occasionally. Tennis, bowling, tanks. But I find it really boring. It’s basically just 1980’s Atari games with better graphics, (and on a bigger TV).

But we recently got Just Dance 2 for the system — obviously not my choice. I was directed to read the instructions and figure out how to play the game because, well, I really don’t know why. It’s a video game, so I’m the default go to guy in my family. Anyway, I put in the game disk, and fiddled through the various options and songs.

The game has over 40 songs, so that’s decent. I like most of the songs, and the dance moves look easy enough for most folks to duplicate. To play, you mimic the moves of the stylized dancer on the screen. But, as seems on par for the Wii, the moves to play the game are easy to fake.

When playing Wii Bowling, I’ve been chastised for just staying in my seat and flicking my wrist to “play the game.” Well, Calfgrit10 found “dancing” with Just Dance 2 to be equally as easy. He sat on the sofa during one song and just bounced the wiimote on the cushions in time to the song beat, and he did alright. He kept scoring “OK,” OK,” “OK,” to all the moves without ever actually doing a single actual dance move. That’s pretty damn pathetic game play.

Calfgrit6 likes to get up and try some of the dances, especially with his mother. But me and Calfgrit10, we’re not so interested. Calfgrit10 is a bit self conscious about any kind of performance in front of people, and I just don’t care for choreographed dancing.

And something that the boys get hung up on is doing “girl dances.” Most of the songs have just one dancer, (no choice), you’re supposed to emulate, and if that dancer is female, then to them it’s “a girl dance.” Why didn’t the game makers make male and female versions of the dances? I mean, really, that seems like it would have been a no-brainer to include. Some of the dances do look very feminine, and I can’t imagine guys in a Wii-party situation wanting to dance like that.

Well, there are probably some guys who would be comfortable throwing their arms up and shaking their hips to the beat with “It’s Raining Men” or “It’s In His Kiss”. But they don’t seem to be in the Grit family.

The only dancer in the game I’m the least bit interested in mimicking is the sombrero-wearing bandito who dances like riding a horse and shooting pistols. To the song, “Viva Las Vegas,” that’s awesome.

Bullgrit

Our oldest little calf has turned 10 years old. Holy moly! A decade. When he was born, Cowgrit and I were just in our early thirties, less than six years married.

I remember before we became preggers, my mom asked me if we were going to have children, and I responded with, “We’ve taken the goalie off the field.” She didn’t get the reference until my step-dad gave a hint or two.

When Cowgrit became pregnant, the doc calculated the day of birth at December 24. Well, our little Calfgrit was apparently quite comfortable where he was, and decided to stay put for another week and a half. When he finally came into the world, he was a beautiful baby. In fact, he was so beautiful, the hospital newborn photographer asked our permission, (after we made our photo purchasing decisions), to post a copy of his pic in her office as a sample.

His first week of life was pretty rough. But he got over it. He’s a healthy, happy, boy.

He loves to read, All. The. Time. Oh my god, he almost always has a book in his hands. We have to enforce a “No books at the dinner table” rule, else he forgets to eat. We also have to enforce no book in the bathroom – potty and bath – else he forgets to get up or wash. Now that he’s taking showers instead of baths, he actually once asked his little brother to hold a book just outside the shower so he could read it while washing.

He loves his quiet creative play time, too. Legos and action figures. This is where he’s a lot like I was at his age. (I didn’t start reading much until in my teens.) I watch him playing quietly with his toys on the floor in his room, and I remember my own such times. Different toys, different stories, but the core activity is all the same.

Seeing myself in him brings me both joy and worry. Maybe he’ll grow out of it.

Bullgrit

We’re back home from week in Walt Disney World. Because we’re busy with wrapping up and winding down from our adventures, I’ll just throw out some scattered anecdotes for this post:

One day we had a lunch reservation at the Hollywood & Vine restaurant in the Disney Hollywood Studios park. H&V is a buffet, with all kinds of foods, but there was no pizza. Calfgrit9 wanted pizza — in his experience, buffets have pizza; Golden Corral has pizza. He was so disappointed that he was ornery and stubborn, and couldn’t (or wouldn’t) find anything else on display that he wanted.

We explained that our plans were to go to Pizza Planet for dinner — a restaurant with pretty much nothing but pizza — but he wanted pizza now. We got him to nibble on a few things, but he did it with a big ol’ pout on his face the whole time. I even took a picture of him pouting, (bottom lip stuck out), over a big bowl of chocolate ice cream with a chocolate chip cookie dipped in it. Poor thing.

Immediately after this “terrible” lunch, he was laughing out loud at a group of Disney street performers acting as a incompetent public works team.

Kids. They can go from one extreme emotion to another in seconds. It makes me dizzy.

* * *

Both boys created a double-bladed lightsaber in the Star Wars store.

* * *

They spent nearly an hour building and racing Lego vehicles in the Lego store in Downtown Disney.

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They could both outscore their mom on Buzz Lightyear Space Ranger Spin, but no one could even get in the same ballpark of my scores.

* * *

They got me to join them in the outdoor pool, after the sun went down — 45-50 degrees even in Florida. The lifeguards were wearing full coats with hoods. Supposedly the pools are heated to 85 degrees, but only the hot tubs, heated to 104 degrees, were comfortable.

* * *

They loved the Wilderness Lodge resort we stayed at, but they both claimed the video game arcade made it the best hotel we’ve stayed at in WDW.

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None of us had to deal with the naked body scanners or the grope pat downs in the airports. But standing in the huge line, with a couple or three hundred other travelers showed that if a terrorist really wanted to kill a bunch of people, all he’d have to do is set off a suitcase bomb at the security checkpoint. No need to bother trying to get a bomb through the security and onto a plane.

Bullgrit

My boys, (especially Calfgrit6), love playing hide-n-seek with me in the house. They almost never ask their mom, and they never play by themselves; it’s always best with daddy. And I love playing it with them. I rock at hide-n-seek!

They prefer to be the seekers because they like trying to find me, and they don’t have the patience, themselves, to stay hidden in one place very long. When we first started playing, they’d search for me a long time, but almost inevitably, I’d have to give myself up when they were stumped. But every time I did that, I lost that spot as a viable hiding place – they’d make sure to check that spot in subsequent games. So then, instead of letting them find me when they gave up looking around, I’d just sneak out of my spot and “appear” out in the open somewhere. This let me keep my good hiding places a secret.

Sometimes I’d sneak out of a room they hadn’t checked yet and sneak into an area they’d already searched. This could keep the game going for many minutes until they grew too frustrated. A few times of this, and they got mad about it. It’s now a standard rule that I can’t do that anymore. *sigh*

Sometimes they have to get their mom into the seeking, and that’s when I get really serious about the game. Outsmarting a 6-year-old and a 9-year-old is one thing, but outsmarting an adult, well, that’s when my competitive streak shows itself. Sometimes she plays along just to help them, giving ideas, dropping hints, and such, but then there are times when she really gets into it and has to start calculating, “Where can a grown man hide in this house? Would he actually break his own limbs to fit inside that furniture?” (I might.)

The most fun moments in a game of hide-n-seek is when the boys are near me, and search all around me, (or even directly at my spot), but they fail to find me. I have to hold back the laughter when they move on to the next area or room.

One time I was hiding in Calfgrit9’s bed – it was an unmade mess of a blanket, a couple pillows, and several stuffed animals – both boys searched the bed pretty thoroughly, twice, but they failed to notice me. I was wedged down in the corner of where the bed is up against the wall, so the lump I made in the mess was relatively small. They searched that spot once early, and then again later at their mother’s suggestion, even pulling one of the pillows and a couple stuffed animals off of me, but they still didn’t find me. I scared the bejeebers out of them when I rose up with a roar while they were leaving the room. It’s now a standard rule that I can’t do that anymore. *sigh*

Then another time, I hid pretty much in plain sight: I stood up on the sink counter in their bathroom, just to the right side of the door. I had a white towel in my hands, held to cover my lower half — the part at their eye level — (towel was white, walls were white), and just stood very still. If they had done more than a cursory look in the bathroom, (in the tub behind the shower curtain), or if they had looked high, they would have spotted me, surely. But neither boy found me when they looked at separate times. Then they got Mom in on the search, and she found me after several minutes when she gave the bathroom a more thorough look, (after first looking in the tub, herself).

I must admit, too, that one reason why I like hide-n-seek in the house is that sometimes I can find a nice comfortable spot, (like in the bed), where I can just rest for a few minutes. After being ridden like a horse, chasing the boys around the yard, or playing soccer or Nerf gun tag in the cul de sac, it’s nice to be able to lay quietly under some warm blankets and pillows.

One of these games, I’m probably going to fall asleep where I hide, and put the family into a panic when they can’t find me and I don’t reveal myself. I can just imagine my wife trying to explain the situation to the police when they answer the distress call. “Yes, please officers, help us seek and find my husband. We’ve lost him somewhere in the house.”

“OK ma’am. I’ll call in the K-9 unit.”

Bullgrit