Max was ordered by Mommy to change his clothes upon his return from swimming this morning. Ten minutes later he appeared with an inside-out collared shirt and his pants on backward.
"Tah-dah," he said. "Maxie is now handsome."
"Why are you so dressed up," I asked, attempting to hold back the laughter.
"I'm working on going to the magic show tonight at the library," Max said.
"Working?," I asked.
"Yes working on being handsome," he summed up.
Later on in the day, he wanted to go outside to play. Mommy told him to change his clothes into a t-shirt and shorts.
"Then I won't be handsome," Max said. "It is Maxie handsome day. Doesn't she recognize that?"
She does now ...

We had seats on the lawn right under the scoreboard at the Iron Pigs game on Friday night. As I tried to point out the different nuances of the game and have a memorable  father/son moment, Max kind of squashed it.
"What are you doing, Dad?," Max asked.
"I'm teaching you about baseball," I told him.
"What is this guy talking about? I already know baseball," Max said.
"You don't know everything," I told him.
"I do know everything," the 5 year-old responded.
"OK, when was the last time the Phillies won the World Series?, "I asked him.
Max smiled and very softly whispered, 'Yesterday.'
He was pretty close, but I did point out that no one likes a know-it-all. Unless you are a sports editor and then it's OK.

After a night watching the Iron Pigs, Max became concerned that Millie would no longer be at home with his Auntie. This also got him thinking of the possible dangers Millie will face in her life.
"What if someone was walking with Millie and poof they dropped her," Max said.
"Who would drop her," I asked.
"You know like a neighbor," Max responded.
"Why would a neighbor drop him," I asked again.
"We could be on a walk and then all of the sudden, poof a neighbor would say, 'It'd be fun to drop this baby'," Max said.
Obviously, there was no arguing with a punch-drunk 5 year-old coming home from nine innings of the Iron Pigs.

Max discovered that the Quakertown jail is located next to his soccer field.
But you can't go there until you're an adult.
"Kids can't go to jail," Max said. "Only adults go to jail."
"Why am I not in jail," I asked him.
"Because a fairy didn't send you there," he stated.
Boy, I'm glad I don't know any fairies.

From Millie to Ben and now to Max. The oldest child of the Quakertown Arkans' is not handling being sick very well.
Asked if he thought he'd feel better tomorrow ...
"No," Max responded.
Asked when he would be better ...
"In September," Max said.
"Why September?," I wondered.
"Because that's when Kindergarten is," Max responded.
Apparently, Max was worried that he would still be sick for Kindergarten and his Mommy told him he'd be better by then. I guess something got lost in translation.

Today out of the blue, Max decided on his profession. He wants to be Rocky.
I quickly pointed out to Max that his Mommy will never let that happen.
"Doesn't she recognize that when I'm bigger, I will be in charge," said Max of his Mom.
I also pointed out that it will be unlikely that Max will be big enough to be a boxer.
"Aren't you listening? I said, 'When I get bigger'," said Max.
It's difficult to argue with that kind of logic ...

Even at age 5, Max has gone to both the Tiny Tennis Center and Tennis Zone for tennis lessons. I even gave it a shot last summer with him. Which made Friday's performance all the more disturbing. The kid had forgotten how to play tennis. His strokes were gone, his confidence shaken and it looked like he couldn't even beat Andy Roddick.
A few days rest made all the difference. The competitor in Max needs the tennis to mean something, so I feed him balls at the service line and we play out the points. Max had never won a game from me in our version of mini-tennis. Indeed, he did lose the first set 6-1 teaming up with Ben. Then Max took over by himself and went all 6-0 on me in the second set. In the decisive third set, Max led 6-5 when he decided it was time for a tiebreaker. He tanked it to get to the breaker where he promptly lost 7-1. Still, what a performance and now for his postmatch interview.
"The difference is I slept good," Max said. "I had all sorts of energy. My energy was back."
As for me, almost losing to a 5 year-old has done nothing to shake my confidence. I didn't sleep good, so my energy was low. It all makes sense to me.

Should I worry about Ben? His favorite activities are getting Millie dressed, playing with dolls, cooking and coloring. Why, oh why, doesn't he want to clean? Anyway, Ben is very involved in his looks. I don't know where he could possibly get that. On Thursday after Max and I returned home with haircuts, Ben was brought to tears. Today, Ben got his long-awaited haircut and was shaggy no longer. Upon his return, his Mommy told him that she was so glad he still had his blond hair.
"She said I have blond hair," Ben screaned. "No, I thought they got rid of my shaggy."
More tears flowed until we explained to Ben that blond only meant the color his hair.
One can only wonder what Ben thought blond meant or if he is truly convinced all his shaggy hair is gone.

The conversation started out with Max wondering how he'd pick his profession. When I told him he doesn't have to decide until college, he told me that he wanted to marry his Grammy, that would be his job.
"I want to marry Grammy. I want to stay with her and live in her house," Max said.
Good work if you can get it ... 
A day later, younger brother Ben could not let this go.
"Dad, is Grammy married?," Ben asked while the family was on a weekend excursion
"Yes, Grammy is married to Grampy," I said.
"Ha-ha, Max. You can't marry her," Ben said. "She's already married."
"Yes I can," Max screamed. "I asked her and she said OK."

Ben likes to get big brother Max in trouble. In fact, he's satisfied with getting Max angry. Yesterday, while I was getting ready for work, Ben ran upstairs.
"Daddy, Max is on your computer," Ben screamed.
I told Ben to not be a tattle-tale.
"I'm not Dad .. Max is still on the computer. Wait, what's a tattle-tale?"
"When you tell on your brother," I explained.
"Oh yeah, I'm totally a tattle-tale," Ben admitted.
And just like the wind, Ben was gone downstairs to find his Mommy.

I took Millie to Target today and everyone made a fuss, especially the checkout lady, who really wanted Millie to say hello to her. Actually, she asked Millie if she 'could' say hello.
Millie then furiously shook her head and didn't stop for about five minutes.
Of course she could, but she chose not to.
The checkout lady was sad and I wondered if Millie has inherited my antisocial behavior.

A little background here ...
About a week ago Max took a drumstick and whacked Ben on the head. It left a black and blue mark and kind of a dent on Ben's head. Today over a cookie at Target, Ben brought the subject back up.
"I don't remember my name," Ben said.
"Huh?," I responded eloquently.
"Remember Max hit me in the head. I don't remember my name, it's Beh .. "
When I pointed out that in fact if he doesn't remember his name, we'd have to take him to the doctor and they'd then have to look at his brain, Ben backed off a bit.
"Oh yeah, my name's Ben," he said. "But you do remember when Max hit me in the head, right?"
How could I forget with him bringing it up every day.

Ben, 3, is a ladies' man. Wherever he is, he gravitates to the girls. In fact, his favorite aisle at Target is the Princess aisle. At T-Ball on Friday night, Ben decided to play with twins Madeline and Mikalaya instead of the rough-and-tumble boys.
Mostly, he chased the girls
"Dad, I'm going to marry Madeline," Ben confessed a day later in the car.
"You are?," I said.
"Yeah, I told you, she asked me and I said yes."
I don't remember this earlier conversation, but I played along.
"The only problem is I don't know who Madeline is and I don't know who Mikalaya is. They're twins and I can't tell them a part."
Some might see this as a pretty big problem when beginning a marriage, but Max had the solution.
"Ben, you can just ask them their name," big brother pointed out.

I guess this is what happens when you have a diabetic Dad. Max's latest obsession is always checking sugars and carbohydrates of everything we either purchase or eat. At Starbucks today, he had a mini-doughnut. After not so much eating the tiny doughnut as devouring it, he needed to know how much sugar was in it. I told him to ask the lady behind the counter. After much deliberation and really wanting me to do it because 'he's just a kid', courageous Max left our table and patiently waited his turn in line. When it was his turn ...
"Excuse me, how much sugars are in the donuts," Max asked.
I give much credit to the lady behind the counter, who didn't even break character. She said that she wasn't sure, but handed him a menu with all the carbohydrates listed. The only problem is that they were for the coffee drinks. I told Max that probably meant there were no sugars.
"Oh good, then I can have another one," Max stated.