Alert! Alert!

School starts soon! The boys will be going back to school! Morning traffic will descend into chaos and delays! Lunches will need to be made! Crowbars must be readied so that we can pry the children out of their beds! Panic! Horror! Terror! Teachers! Secondborn is STARTING KINDERGARTEN!!!!!!!! Firstborn will be in FOURTH GRADE!!!! HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!?! And where did August go? It's like some horrible temporal distortion has taken hold. Can nothing save us?

I am not ready for this.

Music: Kill My Boyfriend

Courtesy of Natalia Kills:


Note: This is not actually a recommended method for ending relationships. For one thing, if you're planning to murder your significant other, you probably shouldn't write songs about it. Also, just breaking up with someone has considerably less risk of jail time associated with it... though I suppose it's still possible...

Boys Unplugged

So, in preparation for the beginning of school, we're... unplugging the boys. No YouTube videos, no video games, no devices, and very limited TV/movie times (probably only when we're watching something as a family). Today was our first day of it, and -- lucky me -- I happened to be off work for the occasion.

So far, we have:

1. Gone to visit the Dallas World Aquarium. I cannot recommend this highly enough. It's an absolutely wonderful place to visit, with everything from sharks and anemones to frolicking otters and a jaguar. Going first thing in the morning on a weekday got us there ahead of various schools and camps doing field trips, at a time when the critters were (for the most part) freshly awake and lively. That occupied most of the morning.

2. Eaten lunch.

3. Returned home, where Firstborn picked our unopened copy of Dungeon! off the game shelf and suggested that we try it out. Since I hadn't played the game in thirty years, I ruled out anybody playing a wizard -- so we were limited to only fighters, rogues, and clerics. Then, to keep the thing from going on longer than Secondborn could concentrate and/or stay still, I halved the treasure amounts required for each character to win. Now, Secondborn is only five, and the game is designed for ages eight and up, but with those two tweaks it worked just fine. The boys played together extremely well, and we all had a good time.

4. Gone outside for a watergun fight. Well, the boys did, anyway. That one didn't go so well; they came back in after about five minutes. It's Texas in August, so the temperature is about twenty degrees hotter than the ambient temperature in Hell, but apparently that wasn't the problem; either they couldn't agree on a set of rules for the game, or else somebody got tired of being squirted in the face. I'm not sure which, since they came back by mutual agreement, without any squabbling.

5. Cleaned Legos off the floors of the living room and Secondborn's bedroom. This meant I had to provide them with a couple of prizes (a MineCraft action figure for Firstborn and a small Lego set for Secondborn), but it was worth it: you have no idea what an achievement it is for us to have a floor that we can safely walk across without wearing armored boots.

It's now three o'clock, and Secondborn has just finished building his Lego set. Firstborn has just finished complaining that he has nothing to do (which, given the sheer number of books and toys he owns, is clearly a claim without merit). Daddy, meanwhile, is wondering how they're going to survive tomorrow...

...but then, Daddy will be at work for most of the day, and won't have to worry about it.

Ghosts vs. Humans

So, my son has been watching gaming videos on YouTube. Specifically, he's been watching something where the people making the video are divided into teams of ghosts and humans, and the ghosts hunt the humans and convert them into ghosts. It's sort of like Hide & Seek, but in a video game with jump scares.

Naturally, this has affected his sleeping patterns.

Naturally, that has affected my sleep patterns.

So I haven't written anything. I just went to sleep.

If I can find what video it was that Firstborn was watching, I'll link to it in the comments.

Marked, Part I: A trip to market

Andrus entered the market at dusk, just as the craftsmen and traders were beginning to put away their wares. To his left, a stolid matron argued prices with an older woman; neither sounded angry, but they both looked tired and strained. Further ahead, a young man was making arrangements with a coppersmith, while the gleaming wares lay spread on the rug between them. This, it seemed, was a larger job, and they must have already settled on a price; they were discussing suitable times for delivery. Looking closer, Andrus identified the young man as Merius, a trader who taken over his father's concerns and seemed to be doing well by them. As traders went, he was said to be honest enough -- and very reliable.

"Eggs, father?" asked Avilius, walking steadily at his side. The boy was big enough to keep up with Andrus' pace without seeming to hurry, but still young enough to consider an outing with his father a special event.

"If there are any left," answered Andrus. "Keep a sharp eye, son."

Avilius nodded seriously -- at this age, he did a lot of things seriously -- and set to watching the stalls around them as they walked.

Ahead, Andrus spotted old Melissa, stooping to gather the bowls and packets of herbs she had set out on her selling-blanket. He turned automatically, and Avilius followed. For all her years -- and she must be approaching a full century -- she saw them immediately and sat back as they approached. Her hair was white and thin, and her features ruinously old, but her eyes, like her thoughts, remained dark and sharp.

"Young Andrus," she greeted him, "and Avilius, more handsome by the day, like your father."

Andrus answered with an amused grunt. He was no elder, but nobody else in the city would call him young. His build was still neat and solid, and he still moved easily, but his hair was thoroughly gray and years in the sun had given him a weathered face covered in a roadmap of wrinkles. Avilius, of course, grinned and stepped closer, kissing old Melissa once on each cheek. The grin they received in return was wide and fierce and joyful, brightening the gathering evening. "Is there anything you need?" she asked.

"You have sage? Or Saffron?" Andrus took a seat across from Melissa, and Avilius promptly planted himself at his father's side.

"Both, as it happens." Melissa leaned forward, conspiratorially. "The gods favor us both, I think. You, for you'll have some of the best around, and for myself it's a bit of money and less to carry."

"Watch your tongue," Andrus said, but the words weren't sharp. "There's only one proper worship, and the trade inspectors may not realize that you jest."

Melissa met his eyes for a single, fraught moment. He knew she wasn't jesting, and she knew that he knew. She was old enough that she had little to lose, but she knew he had a family to protect. After a moment, she lowered her eyes. "Too true. They aren't known for their sense of humor. A silver, then?"

Andrus nodded. It seemed high, but he knew Melissa would never cheat him. No, everything was more expensive, and there seemed to be less available every year; they paid more and more for less and less. What misfortune didn't take, the governor's taxes or the merchant's exorbitant prices did. Small markets like this one grew emptier, quieter; he wondered again what sort of world he was leaving for his children, and what he could do to change it.

With a sigh, he reached for his purse. As his hand came back up with the silver piece, another hand fell on it. Andrus went still: this hand wore a heavy leather glove, with copper disks to protect the back, and the arm above it was covered in a copper bracer. Trade inspectors, or their guards. Same things. He sat still, waiting.

Parenting: Wooden Bow

A conversation in our house on Saturday morning.

Secondborn: "Daddy, do you see this wooden bow? I don't have a wooden bow. I need seven wood to make a wooden bow in Terraria. Daddy? Daddy? Daddy? Oh, he is sleeping." ::chuckles:: "Wif a wooden bow I can shoot all the zombies in Terrarria. I will need wooden arrows, too. I need more wood to make wooden arrows..."

This went on in an unbroken stream for another five minutes, at least.

I swear, I was trying to sleep in a house with the three noisiest people -- and the loudest firk ding blast cat -- in the entire world.

Unentombed 2: Reawakened (the real one)

V-C Johann Borasteros woke in his capsule, enclosed in absolute darkness, with the sure and certain knowledge that he'd been activated for combat. He knew because his heart was beating and his flesh felt strong. Med-checks never felt like this.

A screen flickered to life in front of him, scrolling text explaining his orders while a sequence of maps were displayed underneath. He had been placed in a hidden bunker beneath Command Base McAlister on a planet called Veda, along with a dozen other commandos. He had no idea where that was, but it didn't matter; planetary locations were a problem for VoidCom. All he needed was the layout of the building where he'd be fighting, and the maps were filling that in already.

Alien invaders, he thought. Huh. But apparently they were alien invaders who resembled human beings in size and shape, and in their general biology; the words "parallel evolution" were probably floating around SciCom a lot these days. He wondered briefly which days these were, and how long he'd been out; but like the location of the planet, it didn't really matter. Not for the moment.

The screen stopped displaying new information, and Borasteros said: "Acknowledged."

For a moment, everything went dark. Then the lid in front of him swung open, taking the screen with it, and Borasteros stepped smoothly out of his capsule.

His personal weapons were already on him; they had been kept in storage with him. Command, however, had also provided a conventional armory: the far wall of the bunker was covered with racks of guns and crates of ammunition. Borasteros straightened his rig -- essentially just a heavy cloth belt and baldric that buckled over his skin-tight bodysuit -- then went to collect more weapons. If the base was overrun as thoroughly as their orders indicated, they were going to need them.