Grunkle Stan needs a new bike

My husband and my children have both instructed me to tell the interwebs that we found Grunkle Stan this weekend.

What’s that? You have no idea who that is? I pity you. I pity you for lacking the foresight to know that it's important to turn your brain to mush as quickly as you can by watching crap like Gravity Falls on The Disney Channel. A mind is a terrible thing to waste when you could be turning it to mush like us. 


Mabel and Dipper.  50% of my household named Mabel the character they'd choose to be if they were a character on Gravity Falls.

 
Anyhoo, we like that show and one of the main characters is this guy.

Grunkle Stan. He’s funny. Mainly because he’s insane and grumpy. He also wears tank tops with his back hair sticking out everywhere.  He also has square black glasses.

Pretty sure I'm going to hell for going paparazzi on this guy.  What did he ever do to me? Except maybe wear that tank top.  But still.

Boom. Apparently Grunkle Stan was in the market for a new bike. So were we.

Since I was already going to hell for parazzi'ing that guy I figured I might as well get a shot from behind. 

We've had a 9 year old pumping her heart out trying to keep up with this rest of us on her old bike. That kid was giving it her all knees to her chin the whole way for several months now. We decided she’d done her time and deserved a new bike. We also decided it’d be sweet if she could pick up the pace and stop dragging us down. Enter the new bike.

Enter the happy kid.

My husband is made of cold hardened steel on pretty much every other day of the year while I’m being sappy enough for you, me and the rest of the planet. Naturally, seeing his first born child looking smaller on a bigger bike did the trick to make him sappy and nostalgic. Dude’s nuts.


Mixed nuts.

That's nothing compared with a couple years ago when I came home from the grocery store while minding my own beeswax to find my whacked out nut of a husband all hormonal as a result of watching an ESPN special about two brothers and one loses a leg and the other goes on to play in the NFL for him.  Full on marshmallow laying on our couch.  And he thinks I’m unpredictable.

My husband would like it noted that that particular ESPN special was very, very touching. I’d like it noted he actually told me while still touched by the special that we needed to have a third kid so that our son will have a brother to play for him in the NFL in case he loses a leg.

I pointed out that the lost leg seems sort of harsh to plan for and that I’d never heard of girls playing in the NFL and that's a 50/50 crapshoot on the whole baby thing.  So then I asked if plan B was going to involve shopping through orphanages looking for a boy with good genes that could be molded into the next great quarterback. So then my husband explained to me that defense wins championships so we’d obviously look for a linebacker. Duh.

Thankfully, by the next commercial break, our household had already moved on to a new and equally idiotic topic.  Rest assured, we never run out of those.