You May All Stop Holding Your Breath

This is a test of the child care hearing system. This is only a test. If this had been an actual hearing

THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN A FREAKING DECISION MADE!

Yeah, that's right, once again the entire audience watching could have said the outcome along with the cast and crew on what has ceased to be a legitimate discourse and exercise in child welfare and has proved why the system is so bogged down and belabored with incompetence.

Ok, ok, that's not fair.

But frustration levels being what they are, it would certainly help if that were actually the case.

Instead, the paternity test wasn't back yet. Shocker, since we only did on the 13th of last week. Apparently, the attorneys were under the impression that DNA matching tests worked in the same manner as french fryers at McDonalds. Boy were their faces red.

Also, the psych-evaluation for Justice hadn't been received. Not certain who dropped the ball on that one, since all reports would go to the Department of Child Welfare anyhow . . . oh, wait, I know who dropped that ball!

Now my face is red.

So, my loyal readers, it is with stead-fast aplomb that we march on to the next hearing date of October 18th.

Meanwhile, Justice is being amazingly good . . . because she wants to count her money. I'm not kidding here. The girl wants to buy an iPod, though I'm uncertain why since we wouldn't let her take it to school or almost anywhere else with her.

Maybe, as Don Henley said, "All she wants to do is / All she wants to do is dance, dance, dance."

Perhaps Don Henley is the true prophet of our age and George Michaels was just a false figure-head? Still, "You gotta have faith-a-faith-a-faith, baby," has a definate ring of honest revelation to it, especially in this case.

Wednesday is Paternity Test Day

No, I won't be staying home to watch any of the daytime drama on television revolving around positive or negative paternity tests.

Mostly because we don't get television.

Also because I hate daytime drama.

Actually, I hate drama of almost any variety.

Nopers, tomorrow I will take Justice in for her paternity test. We have very little doubt that it will prove Reggie Diggs is her father. This will, of course, help strengthen his case for his rights to his own daughter. In some ways, this is exciting, especially for Justice. After all, how many people can say, beyond the doubt of a DNA test that they know their dad is their biological father?

Second Star on the Left

As a child, I remember with extreme glee each and every time my parents took us to the infamous Chuck E. Cheese pizzaria and entertainment emporium. Not only did I get to eat nature's goodness in pie form, but there were games.

Games, I tell you, games!

Star Wars, Tron, PacMan, Mrs. PacMan, Dragon's Lair, and something to do with a mallet and rodents who pop their heads out of the ground.

It was my Graceland.

Now, some two decades later, I walked into the local Chuck E. Cheese, took one look around and thought, "What a lot of noise."

Justice will be going from nine years old (single digits) to ten years (the fabled double-digits). It's a mark of her maturity that she picked five different places that she wanted to go on her birthday, and could only whittle her guest list down from 112 to 110.

With coaxing (i.e. saying no) we managed to persuade her (told her) that less, in some cases, is actually more (we threatened to cancel the birthday party, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas until she turns 25).

She was remarkably amiable to our suggestions.

So, come the weekend, we will trek for four hours to this bastion of childhood glory to behold the electronic world of games and excitement punctuated by half-cooked, half-edible pizza and caffiene on tap.