Arrr, Wither Summer?

Today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day, so I'm translating the post below to conform to that...

 

't’s been a while since I put anythin' up here. I be havin' a half-written essay about takin' Peter t' th' Brewers game a tides ago, but I couldn’t post 't at th' time on accoun' o' Peter (clerelittle lad that he be) had managed t' switch off th' wireless card t' Mommy’s laptop. At first we figured 't must ben th' internal card dyin' on accoun' o' 't jus' suddenly sailed' kaput, but after lettin' Peter’s Mom go t' th' Local Best buy t' get a new card, I figured I’d jus' poke around wi' th' laptop t' make sure thar wasn’t an another issue involved. Sure enough, Peter had managed t' complete a 2-key action (fn + F2) t' turn off th' card an' I switched 't aft on th' same way. I’m sure if we had asked th' lad's t' fix 't he could be havin' done so an' saved us all th' trouble. 't sucks that he’s already more technologically savvy than me but I’m still changin' his diaper.

Anyhow, we tookst Peter t' th' Wensdee afternoon game last tides t' be seein' observe th' Brewers late-season collapse in swabbie. Peter did be havin' a good time, but so excitin' be these Brewers now that they sent Peter into a 3-innin' nap, wakin' up in time fer th' Sausage Race (th' hot dog won, jus' as I told Peter 't would. I be sure Peter thought much more highly o' his father followin' that bold prognostication). Th' Brewers won th' game, or more accurately at this point, didn’t lose. When th' game be o'er an' we be bundlin' up our stuff under th' grandstand, one o' th' ushers came up t' us an', totally ou' o' th' blue, declared that Peter “gets first place fer cuteness.” Maybe he be a voter in th' radio contest aft in April?

In other news, Peter got sea sick th' other night (Toosdee, I think). His mom spake that he had napped a lot durin' th' tide, an' round about dinner time he be pretty sluggish. He wanted t' play wi' his basketball hoop (usually he’ll dunk th' ball, give 't t' me t' shoot 't from farther away, chase 't after I miss, an' get very pepped up an' loud), but he be doin' a good imitation o' an achy old guy which isn’t one o' his usual routines. When I be helpin' th' lad's wi' his dinner I noticed that he sighed a lot an' wouldn’t eat much. Sure enough, his hade felt a wee warm. Nay hot, but warmer than usual – although his hade does heat up when he plays hard, his playin' before dinner be mostly inert, so I knew 't wasn’t that. His mother tookst th' lad's upstairs an' tried t' get th' lad's t' sleep, but e'en in his sickness he wasn’t havin' any o' 't. So he sat on th' lap o' either o' his parents until 8:30 or so until we could get th' lad's down fer th' night. Th' next mornin' I sailed' t' work worryin' that he’s got somethin', but wi' nay idee what that be. His mom called me at work later in th' mornin' wi' th' news that he be aft t' normal, 'ceptin' he wasn’t interested in eatin'. That changed by th' time dinner came around, when he be his usual robust powder keg o' explodin' toddlericity (go ahead an' spell-check that all ye like).