Morning

Henry's morning routine (he's 16 months):

Turn off the heater. Plug in the lamp. Drag chair in front of TV. Turn on TV. Give dad the remote control. Point to the freezer (he wants an Eggo waffle while he watches).

The man knows what he wants.

Amelia Bedelia

"OK, Maddie," I instructed as I sent her off to the field, "just do what the coach tells."

She shook her head affirmatively and took her position as a striker.

A corner kick. "Madeline," coach ordered. "Stand right here."

Maddie dutifully took her assigned position. As designed, the ball came right to her with a clear shot to the goal. We cheered. We waited. We waited longer. Maddie looked at the ball, then to the coach without moving. Then the other team kicked the ball out bound. Opportunity missed.

Substitutions. Maddie came out.

"Why didn't you kick it?" I asked.

"You told me to just do what coach said. He said 'stand here'. He didn't say 'kick the ball.'"

Argument Won

While trying to discuss with Maddie her recent disobedience issues, she cut in:

"Daddy, I'm just trying to be like Mom. And mom doesn't do what you say either."

Well played, kiddo.

Sound Board

Word count during a one hour interval the other day:

Maddie: I don't have to if I don't want to (12 times)

Caleb: Hey, guys! Wait for me! (20 times)

Katie: Um...[followed by silence] (25+ times, I lost count)

Tim: Be careful, guys (22 times)

Time in a Bottle

After being away for three weeks in Guatemala and then four weeks in Omaha, I became sentimental about cherishing the small moments with the kids. You know, they won't be young forever.

30 minutes squatting next to the toilet with Caleb as he battles constipation.

Ear-splitting yell contests in the car.

Maddie wakes me up when she comes into the bed every night at 1 a.m. Caleb then wakes me up coming into the bed every night at 3 a.m. (At which point the bed is overloaded and I move to the couch.)

Teaching Maddie to swim at the local pool (the water tastes exactly like sweat and is so foggy one cannot see one's feet).

Just some of the special moments.

35 hours

That's how many hours until Katie and the kids arrive in Omaha. Not that I'm counting.

Lone Man

After one joyful week of no work, no school, just kids, I am again a solo lobo. Sigh.

Western Nebraska smells like cow poop. Omaha, no poop smell. Phew, I was getting worried.

Guatemalan Traffic Laws

Green means go.

Red means turn on hazard lights and go.

Otro

One week to go. Making T-Shirts. Doing street surveys. EOQ. NPV. We're rocking it out.

Saw a four-inch scorpion. Creepy. Saw some Mayan and Olmec ruins. Cool. Miss my family. Not cool.

Micro

Carmen spends hours each night making elaborate piñatas by hand. She sells them at the market in the center of town. She's in the the second-aisle from the center, behind three other piñata stores with more variety. So she charges less. For her hours of effort, she makes about $1 profit on each piñata.

We're working with a butcher. He is the fifth of seven butchers on a street of nothing but butchers. They all have the same providers, the same prices, the same selection.

Granizadas Las Delicias is a mobile snow cone cart. Berta is the proprietor. She has to sell 16 snow cones per day to meet expenses and repay her loan. She sells 10 on a good day.

Marketing surveys are underway. We're working on logos and signs. We're contemplating coupons and "frequent flyer cards." Hopefully we'll find a breakthrough.

La Abuelita

Norma makes "Cafe de Cereales." She charrs corn, rice, wheat, and other secret ingredients and then grinds it, by hand, and packages it as La Abuelita, a wholesome coffee alternative. I helped her make a batch on her make-shift wood burning stove.

So far she makes about $20 a week, which supports her father and her sister and her two children. We're trying to help her brand it properly and scale it. The cultural distance is bigger than I anticipated. This is hard.