I think Samuel has been drinking too much chocolate milk

Pen emergency

Ethan: Dad, can I borrow your pen? It's an emergency.

Todd: What's the emergency?

Ethan: I have to draw a mustache on a woman in a magazine.

Samuel's flux capacitor

Samuel explains how he built a flux capacitor out of an empty Wheat Thins box, plastic tubing, and iPod headphones.

Medieval Weekend

We went to Medieval Times this weekend for the DeLorean Mid-Atlantic Club's holiday party. So far, no one in the club seems to mind that we don't own a DeLorean. I joined because Samuel loves "Back to the Future," and I love Samuel, and as soon as I pay down a couple of credit cards and figure out where the heck we could possibly keep a DeLorean in Manhattan for less than $1 million a month, maybe we'll get one. Stranger things have happened in the history of the universe.

In the meantime, we had great seats, the food was edible, and we spent the night at a hotel while Kahlua and Bailey enjoyed a sleepover with the dog sitter.

2010 Resolutions

I'm going to pretend that it's 2060, and I'm 97 years old and I need help just to get to my bedpan. And God is going to grant me one wish, and that one wish is to re-live one year of my life. Because I'm senile I pick 2010.

And so here I am. Back in 2010. I can actually walk by myself. I can actually run! My kids are young and happy and healthy and not yet in prison, and my wife is young and beautiful and hasn't yet left me for Charlie Sheen, who promises her a more stable life.

So what am I going to do with my year? I still need to think about it, but it will involve hugging my kids, and kissing Jennifer, and seeing my parents, and writing more manuscripts, and enjoying running in Central Park instead of feeling that I'm running too slowly, and not stressing out about anything I have no control over, and basically enjoying being alive and being thankful for all that that entails.

Oh, and persuading Jennifer not to leave me for Charlie Sheen.

Vet to Todd: "You suck." Todd to Vet: "You suck too."

Bailey is nine months old. Next week he's having his second $1,200 surgery.

We have spent more money on Bailey in the past nine months than most families in Arkansas earn in a year. And we have to feel guilty about it.

The vet asked me if I brush Bailey's teeth. I said no. He said, "Would you be willing to?"

I said, "You mean like once a month?"

He said, "No, once a day."

I said, "We have two dogs, a cat, two kids, and two jobs. The dogs are lucky we remember to feed them."

"What do you feed them?"

"Um...I don't know. Some kind of dry dog food. Comes in a big bag. From the pet store."

Silence.

Okay, Mr. wonderful animal-loving vet, who wants us to feed our dogs organic free-range filet mignon and brush their teeth and give them mani pedis and Swedish massages. You are a better person than I am. But you suck. Here, just keep my credit card.

Bailey, God help you if you ever need another surgery. From here on out you're a Red State dog.