Parental Flaw

I've come to the realization that among my many flaws as a parent, one of the major ones is that I seem to lack the ability to think things through. For example, when we got the 7-year-old an advent calendar that contains 25 individual Star Wars-themed mini-Lego sets in it, I thought it'd be a fun little thing for him to do every day, being that he's big into both Legos and Star Wars. What I didn't realize was that what I was actually buying was a new, blond-haired alarm clock that would be entering my room every single morning somewhere between the ungodly hours of 5:00-6:00 AM while I'm still peacefully slumbering, that would immediately turn on the light upon entering, and then (and the order here is important) ask if he could turn on said light (and not wait for my response) and then ask — nay, demand — that I help him build, essentially, a tiny, 20-piece puzzle when my brain is barely functioning enough to even comprehend where I am. This flaw is something I need to work on, I know, though it's been 12 years now since I first became a parent so I admittedly don't have high hopes of any improvement in this area.

The Last Bite

That intensely serious look my dog gives me suddenly when I get to the very last bite of my slice of pizza as a long string of drool cascades from the corner of his mouth.

Good Morning

Laying in bed, not wanting to get up, when I suddenly hear my 7-year-old bust into a loud, exceedingly cheerful and completely made up song that consists solely of lyrics of him individually saying ‘good morning’ to every single toy in his room and wondering what the heck his mom sprinkled on his waffle this morning. Sheesh ... I’ll have whatever he had, please and thank you.

Batteries Not Included

Out of all the frustrating things my 7-year-old has done since arriving on this planet, I’d have to say that constantly taking all the batteries out of all the remotes has to be pretty close to the top of the list. That’s just evil. It’s okay though, I’ll just add it to the list of things I’ll do to him when he gets older and moves into his own place. Just you wait, kiddo, just you wait [insert maniacal laugh here].

Random Act of Kindness

So this year my kids' store-bought, chocolate-filled advent calendars also feature nice little holiday-themed "random acts of kindness" ideas on each day's flap. Recently, my 12-year-old decided to take it upon herself to enact one that read "Make Someone a Cup of Hot Cocoa" and I happened to be the lucky recipient. Unbeknownst to me, though, she decided to forgo simply using a packet of powdered mix and instead made some 'from scratch'. Of course I didn't know that until I took a sip and the thick sweetness of it shot directly to my brain. I instantly heard a popping sound which I believe was my left eye forcibly dislodging itself partially from the socket. With a gentle smile, I asked her what was in it and she informed me that it basically had chocolate and every type of sugar (regular, powdered, brown) she could find in the pantry. After experiencing a brief bout of cold sweats moments after, I'm pretty sure her random act of kindness has reconfigured my DNA.

Insult

My 7-year-old was mad at me and called me Mr. Poopypeepeepottyboogerpants and I told him that's fine, but since you're my son that means you're also Mr. Poopypeepeepottyboogerpants! So there! BURN!

Fish Grandpa

So I went to my 7-year-old's room this morning to give him a quick goodbye hug/kiss on the head before he left for school and on my way out I bent down to say "good morning" to his goldfish and from behind me I hear in a voice that I can only assume is my son's impression of his fish if they actually had voices say "Oh, hi Grandpa!" followed immediately by my wife's burst of laughter from the other room.

Grandpa?! Um, no, fish. I am not your grandpa.

And grandma in the other room better pipe down.

Alphabet

I just overheard my 7-year-old in the other room singing the alphabet and he ended it with W-X-Y-M-C-A. Was there ever a teacher in the Village People line-up?

Despacito

Thanks to my kids, over the last month or so that song Despacito has fully taken over our household. Fortunately neither of them speak Spanish so they have no idea what the lyrics mean. I will have to say it is somewhat entertaining to hear them mangle said lyrics with their own form of Spanish-inspired gibberish. They have no problem doing that yet they get mad at me when I change it to "Tres Taquitos" and continue filling it with other food items like Doritos, Cheetos, burritos, churros, tacos, etc. I mean, being a life-long fan of "Weird Al," how could I not?

I Mean Dad

My wife is a stay at home mom, which means, among many other things, the kids spend a lot more time with her than with me. And that also means when they want something, 90% of the time they're asking her for it and, directly because of that, 99.9% of the conversations I have with them, I kid you not, begin like this:

KID: Hey Mom?
ME: I'm Dad.
KID: I mean Dad.

Yep, to them I am not simply "Dad." I am "MomIMeanDad."

EBS

I'm convinced that both my children are afflicted with EBS (Eyelid Blindness Syndrome). It's when you can't see another person's eyelids. I just made it up. How else can you explain the fact that every single morning they initiate loud, one-sided conversations with me while I am clearly still asleep? No gentle tap on the shoulder first, no "good morning, dad" ... they just launch into a barrage of jibber-jabber as if I was just laying there, staring at the wall, longing for someone to talk to. EBS ... the struggle is real.

The Record

Just overheard my wife and daughter talking in her room ...

WIFE: Thank you for cleaning your room up, I really appreciate it.
DAUGHTER: What's the record for keeping my room clean?
WIFE: (sarcastic) Probably like 5 minutes.
DAUGHTER: (non-sarcastic) Yay! I beat it!

"We broke up."

My 6-year-old is a big fan of peanuts in the shell (or "crust" as he inexplicably calls it), so when we went to Five Guys (a burger place that has free peanuts) for lunch yesterday and he said he didn't want any, I was surprised. When I asked him why, he simply said, "We broke up." I laughed and asked him what that meant and he reminded me of the time not long ago when, after he loudly proclaimed his love for the snack, I retorted with the classic grade-school response, "Then why don't you marry 'em?" After all this time, I had no idea he took me seriously.

King Sized Bed

Strange how a king-sized bed is plenty big enough for two adults yet the mere addition of a flopping-like-fish, cover-stealing, arm-to-the-forehead, foot-to-the-groin, sideways laying/H-making 6-year-old and its suddenly like being crammed into a twin-size.

Get Out of Bed

Just overheard my wife talking to my daughter, who needs to get up for a gymnastics class, but is sleeping in ...

WIFE: Zoey, get out of bed or I'll sick your brother on you.

BROTHER: (evil laugh) YEAH!

This will not end well.

The F-Word

The 6-year-old is beyond obsessed with getting a pet fish and has been asking us, non-stop, for over two weeks for one. It's gotten to the point where we've actually forbidden him from even saying the word "fish" to us. This hasn't stopped him from talking about it though. Now he's started using the term "f-word" instead. This could pose a problem if he starts begging us for the "f-word" in public.

Update: I just told him he could get a goldfish cracker instead and we'll see if he can take care of that for a week first. He was not amused.

Unable to Connect

So I try to covertly get my 11-year-old off the computer by secretly turning off my internet router (which is in another part of the house) and then I come back to see her still on the computer, but now playing Google's "Unable to Connect to the Internet" endless running T-Rex game. Blast you, Google! How dare you make me actually parent my child!

Just Me?

Does anyone else go to their phone to just check the weather, but instead go to Facebook for 20 minutes, watch several funny videos on YouTube, download 2 songs on iTunes, order something from Amazon, play several levels of Angry Birds, check how the Brewers are doing in the standings and then binge watch 3 episodes of a show on Netflix. Or is it just me?

Happy 4th of July!

It's kinda weird that when most people (including myself) refer to this holiday they say "Happy 4th of July" instead of "Happy Independence Day". It'd be like saying "Merry 25th of December" or "Happy 31st of October". Amiright?

Goodnight Shirt

My 6-year-old just asked me to help him find his "goodnight shirt." It took me a minute to figure out he meant his pajama top.

Important Safety Tip

Driving in the car with my 6-year-old and he suddenly breaks the silence with, "Hippos attack people so please don't mess with them or they will eat you and you'll be dead."

Important Question

On the way to bed last night, i passed my daughter's room and from the darkness I hear her, in her sweet little voice, ask, "Dad? What's a head lock?"

Help Getting Up

I overheard the 6-year-old wake up his mom this morning to ask her to help him with his cereal. When she asked him to give her a moment because she needed a little time to wake up, he replied, with all the sincerity in the world, "Will little kisses help?" This kid, I tell yah.

The Little Things

The 6-year-old fell asleep on his mom's lap by the fire pit last night. I picked him up to take him to bed and, on the way, with his eyes still closed he says, "Will you lay with me 'til I fall back to sleep?" I told him, "Of course I will," and he replied, "You're such a nice dad." Aw, heart melted. I try, kiddo. I try.

Game

I couldn't tell what game the kids were playing this morning while I had been trying to sleep in, but I can only guess it's something called Yelling and Slamming Doors. I could be wrong. I don't think so though.

Lip

You know, I'm fully aware of my 6-year-old's lack of ability to sit still for longer than 2.35 (average) seconds at a time. This is a well established fact. It's even on Wikipedia. I was also very aware, based on the same enthusiastic yelling that woke me up this morning, that he was watching something on TV that he was extremely excited about. Yet, despite these 2 very obvious, cold hard facts, my brain decided, for some unknown reason, to instruct me to silently walk up to him from behind and give him a quick kiss on the top of his head this morning. And now I have my stupid brain to thank for this full, pouty bottom lip. Someone ask me how many different ways shrimp can be prepared.

Ken

Living in a house with a sister, of course my 6-year-old is going to occasionally be exposed to movies he probably wouldn't see on his own. For example, the Barbie movie he watched yesterday with his sister. He may not admit it to anyone else, but based on his enthusiastic review afterwards, he seemed to like it. More specifically, he really enjoyed the comedic stylings of one particular character, which he dubbed "The Boy Barbie." He has a name, son. It's Ken. Ken is his name.

That Wasn't It

My favorite is when my kids think they've done something cool and excitedly call me over to watch them do it again and then, when they try to do the cool thing again, they mess it up and I, not knowing what it was they were actually trying to do in the first place, feign excitement at what they actually did do and they quickly say, "That wasn't it," and then they immediately proceed to try to do it again, but fail again and I feign the excitement again, still not knowing what it was they were trying to do and again they quickly say, "That wasn't it," and this repeats several more times before I finally tell them to let me know when they have it figured it out and then several minutes later they call me back and we repeat the whole process all over again and after what seems like a thousand attempts they never are able to do whatever that cool thing was ever again. Good times.

Censored

Just overheard my 6-year-old yell, "But i don't know where the h-word they are!" You know you're a good parent when you've taught your child to self-censor at such an early age.

IT Question

A question for my IT friends: My 6-year-old just asked me how many "galometers" a movie file of his is and I was wondering how that converts to gigabytes.

Packing

This is what happens when you let your 6-year-old pack his own suitcase. Good thing it was a road trip otherwise we would have never gotten through security with all the weapons (nunchuks, a Star Wars blaster, a lightsaber) he decided to pack, along with a dozen matchbox cars. I'm not sure what kind of vacation he thought this was going to be.

#6yearoldninjajediassassin

Agony of Defeat

The Agony of Defeat ...

How Many?

MY 6-YEAR-OLD: (through the door) Dad! What are you doing in there?!
ME: (sarcastic) Um, I don't know ... what do people usually do in the bathroom?
MY 6-YEAR-OLD: Are you almost done?!
ME: I don't know. Don't rush me.
MY 6-YEAR-OLD: Ugh! How many poops you have left?!
ME: (after a beat) How many ... ? Uh, let me count. Seven.
MY 6-YEAR-OLD: (shocked) SEVEN?!

Commercials

Watching live TV with my 6-year-old is always entertaining. I swear, for as long as he's been able to talk, at the end of EVERY SINGLE commercial, without fail, he always says, "We should get that." The best is when he singles one of us out for whatever product is being sold, like the other day he said, "You should get that, Dad," after seeing a commercial for a Tesla. Yeah, okay, sure, I'll head on over to the dealership right now. I'm waiting for the day when he sees a commercial for something like adult diapers to see who he "assigns" it to.

Pick Up Your Toys

We told the 6-year-old to pick up all his toys off his floor. We should have been more specific.

Poked Eye

You watch The Three Stooges with your kids and you probably shouldn't be surprised when one of them pokes you in the eye, right?

Last Day of School

Today is my kids' last day of school. I know this because they woke me up this morning, pre-alarm, repeatedly yelling "LAST! DAY! OF! SCHOOL! WOO-HOO!" Then the 6-year-old came in to rub a little salt in the wound by asking me when my Summer Break starts. I told him most adults don't get a Summer Break. I'm pretty sure we've had this discussion before so I couldn't quite tell if his "Awww!" was genuine or sarcastic. Then the 11-year-old came in, snuggled up next to me in bed, looked up at me and told me that I have a lot of hair in my nose.

Dog Prank

I wonder if my dog laughed to himself when he pooped directly at the bottom of my kids' backyard swingset slide.

Speech Class

Thinking back to my Freshman year High School Speech Class where I was, I kid you not, the only guy in a class with nine girls and being forever thankful that our teacher, who was wise enough to not bust out the classic advice to fight fear of public speaking by picturing your audience (i.e. my classmates) in their underwear. I think it's safe to say that that would have not bode well for a 15-year-old with raging hormones. Crude nickname (barely) averted!

No Sleep 'Til Winter

Laying in bed on a Saturday morning, listening to my 6-year-old son repeatedly yell-sing "NO! SLEEP! TIL WINTER!" Here's to both my kids who never let a little thing like lack of knowledge of the actual lyrics stop them from belting out songs at the top of their lungs.

The Alarm Clock

It was 6:27 am on a Wednesday. For some bizarre, weird, unknown strangeness, I woke up a few minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I hate when this happens. Most people in this situation would, I assume, just get up and shut off their alarm, but not me. When this happens, I will continue to lie there, in silent protest. To whom I am protesting, I have no idea, but if I have designated approximately 510 minutes of sleep time for myself, then that’s exactly how much time I’m taking, dammit. I say this as if, when my alarm clock finally does goes off, I will immediately jump out of bed instead of what I actually do, which is hit snooze 87 times. But that’s not the point here. So I’m laying there and my mind starts to drift instead of doing what it should be doing and that’s watching my clock closely so I can be sure to hit that snooze the very second that the alarm goes off, because if I don’t, it attracts … the Morning People. Morning People are a small tribe of annoyingly awake and very loud creatures that live in the house with me. They — (expletive deleted)! My alarm is going off!

“Hey Dad!” the six-year-old runs in and yells.

“Hi,” I grumble.

“Time to get up!”

“I’m not ready yet.”

He crawls up on the bed and sits down on the pillow next to my head.

“(Expletive deleted),” I say in my head and let out a sigh, "Here we go."

“It’s 6:31,” he says.

“Yep.”

“When are you going to get up?” he asks.

“I don’t know. 7:30,” I say, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave me alone. He doesn’t.

“It’s 6:32 now.”

“Thanks.”

At this point I could tell him to leave, but I don’t. The reason for this is unclear to me. Perhaps I don’t want my kids to think of me as that type of grumpy Dad (even though I clearly am at 6:32 in the morning). I think maybe it’s more because I smell the potential for a humorous Facebook/blog post and I’m willing to subject myself to what is about to happen to find out. Either way, I continue to lie there and try to ignore him.

“It’s 6:33. Six. Three. Three. Six hours and thirty-three minutes. Thirty-three minutes after six o’clock.”

At this point, it’s starting to become annoying, but at the same time I kind of wish he knew Spanish so I could hear him also say, “Seis treinta y tres.” Or maybe Roman numerals: “It’s VI. III. IV.”

He continues: “Now it’s 6:34. A six, a three, a four … 6:34 … AM.” He pauses. I know exactly what he’s about to say. “What does AM stand for?” he asks, right on cue.

Before I can say, “Ask Mom,” (see what I did there?) he decides to take the whole thing to a new level when he notices my alarm clock also displays ... ugh … seconds.

“It’s 6:34 and 23 seconds, 24 seconds, 25 seconds, 26 seconds, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32 —”

“Riley,” I say sternly, hoping that that’s ALL I need to say.

“Are you getting up yet, Dad?”

My stern voice clearly needs work.

“Still not ready. I think I heard mom call you,” I lie. He doesn’t fall for it. It’s not the first time I’ve used that.

“It’s … 57, 58, 59 … it’s 6:35 now, Dad!”

“Okay! Fine! I’m getting up!” I grumpily yell and sit up.

“Yay!” he says and immediately runs out of the room.

I sit there fuming for a second, but then realize … hey, I can lay back down again! So I do. Because I’ve still got time before — EXPLETIVE DELETED! — my alarm goes off again!

“Daddy!” the 11-year-old runs in.