I hear most of them are secretly spies.

::fires up sooperseekrit camera network and aims it towards KC::

Me: "Uh... when the hell am I supposed to be selling you on fatherhood? It's not like I'm gonna get steak knives for every couple that gets knocked up."

No, just the tenth. It goes:

key chain
manual can opener
rechargeable flashlight
corkscrew
toaster
DW40 Gift Pack
clicky fire stick thingie
electric can opener
coffee maker
steak knives

The knives are pretty nice, though.

I'm with Hec on this. It's too old, too English, too hothouse, too... not guy.

Thank you, dw!

Emmett's full name: Emmett Jack Devine Smay.

Not the non-Divine spelling of the perfectly unfabulous Irish surname. His maternal grandfather being Jack Devine.

FWIW, Emmett's coach on the tournament team, Wayne, made note of his name in baseball terms. When the (somewhat drunk) coaches from the opposing team tried to trade a case of Fritos and half a twelvepack for "that blond kid who pitched the first three innings."

Wayne: "Yeah, he's a good ball player. And he's got a great baseball name."
Other Coaches: "Really? What's that?"
Wayne: "Emmett Smay."
Other Coaches: "Ooooh, yeah, that's a good baseball name."

And can I ask that we stop talking about the perceived attributes of Emmett's name? Because, as I think we all know around here, critiquing a parent's name choice doesn't end well. It's hard to separate the commentary from the actual kid in question.

Alistair is a theoretical name in this community. Emmett is my son.

When y'all are talking about a theoretical Emmett the drag queen who is getting his ass kicked in the playground it doesn't play as a theoretical example in my head.

I'm sad now.

I like Gud, but he knows our secret, so we must kill him.

It's in the handbook, you know.

Also, I heart Jilli.

I feel like a junkie because I can call my doctor and say "Hey. It hurts a lot. Can I have some heavy painkillers?" and he'll call in a prescription.

Hell -- I don't call the doctor. I just leave a message at the front desk. He doesn't seem to care much what "it" is. I think he just doesn't want me to come in. That's the same way I got my last physical therapy prescription. Over the phone.

You should call and request a pony.

because I hated feeling like a junkie, too.

I totally know rationally that my ish is because of wee little addictions a lot of people (on the non-bio side, so not with the rational) in my family have had to pills. I worry about what things will look like much more than I worry about what they really are.

Actually the Dr. was going to call the Vicodin in when he called in the Flexeril (which I am taking totally as prescribed because I figure it is actually helping as opposed to masking) and I was the one who said not yet. What was I thinking? Never, never, ever pass up keeping painkillers on hand for emergencies unless you already have a stash of a few on hand.

That's the same way I got my last physical therapy prescription. Over the phone.

No, no it wouldn't. But can I say that I now think of "Emmett" as a Kid Name and I used to think of it as an Old Guy name?(but of course the Old Guys had parents once and one day there are gonna be Grandpa Brians, which I hope I'll still be able to have a sense of humor about, when it happens) Susan, I'm not sure why, with the strong reaction. Some movie or something, probably.

And can I ask that we stop talking about the perceived attributes of Emmett's name?

I'll leave it at this: I think of Emmitt Smith, the greatest of all the running backs on the Cowboys, a team far superior to the battery-throwing evil that is the Philadelphia Eagles.

My favorite baseball name? Razor Shines.

You should call and request a pony.

I think my chances are decent.

Never, never, ever pass up keeping painkillers on hand for emergencies unless you already have a stash of a few on hand.

My Flexoril has refills, and I make sure I have an extra bottle on hand, because the moment the scrip runs out will be the moment I'm effectively mobilised by pain.

When my knee was busted, I discovered that I can't take powerful painkillers on a regular basis -- three or four days in, and they stop working. I had doctors around (family) and they'd cut me a new script on demand, insisting that removing the pain NOW was more important, and if I got addicted they'd help me get off -- and if I OD'd, they knew what to tell the EMTs. It was the only way I could make peace with the pills, despite everything the pain was doing to me. Months and months of pain.