Saturday, June 18, 2005

Our own private playground...

This is our court. Where Butoy and I play New York playground-inspired hoops. It's where I've taught him how to execute that ankle-breaking, killer crossover. This is where he hones his trash talk, complete with "Stupid, Kobe!" and worse. The same place where, a few nights back, Lamar got dunked on by the man-kid Amare (El-Ay's my usual team while the kid goes for Phoenix because of the team's orange jersey).

This is also our racetrack. Where Butoy's Supra goes mano-a-mano with my Evo. Or Am's Skyline.

Or at times, this turns into our battleground. Where humans and orcs try to exterminate each other MDK-style.

There are times when we switch to Cartoon Network mode. When Am plays with her Powepuff game and Butoy with his "Finding Nemo" and "The Incredibles." And I play the applauding Dad, tsk.

Sometimes we'd all cuddle up and watch DVDs here as well, complete with popcorn and coke. Or listen to homegrown music from while poring over our books (Butoy with his adventure pictorial books, Am with her fairy tales collection, and I with my IT books, some of which are shown on the right side of the picture).

This is our own li'l private playground. Where father, son and daughter spend most of their waking hours (well, at least during rainy weekends heh) breaking the keyboard. Pass me the popcorn sweetheart, and tell Mommy to stop bothering us...


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