What? It’s TRADITION!

So a good friend of mine, Matthew Phillion, recently completed the path to publication for his book, The Indestructibles, leaving me in something of a quandary. You see, I’m genuinely happy for him and want to congratulate him, but males in general, and writers in particular, have a reputation for being overcompetitive and better at insulting than complimenting one another. While that’s not entirely true, of course, I confess my first thought was to playfully rake him over the coals a bit as tradition requires. You know, something along the lines of “Since I am mentioned in the acknowledgements, I am contractually obligated to say something nice about your book here.”

But I decided all that would be inappropriate.

Congratulations, Matt. You fought hard for this day, and you’ve definitely earned your laurels for this one. I doubt I’ll have the chance to read the finished product before this weekend at the earliest, but read it I shall.

.

.

.

And then I’ll rake you over the coals.

We Apologize For This Service Interruption

But today was one of those days for me where you get up, do what you need to do just long enough to get your day covered as best you can, then go back to bed. When you subsequently get out of bed, it is solely to make a bathroom run, and your lone thought while doing so is “Huh . . . daylight,” before returning to bed for another round of unconsciousness.

I’ll definitely have something to say tomorrow though . . .

All Jokes Aside

Let the record reflect that I am actually quite pleased with my parenting decision on Friday. As it happened, I had two swallows of coffee left in my coffee mug, and I appreciated the opportunity to drink them in comparative peace. I also appreciated the honesty my son had shown me, and he seemed to appreciate the opportunity to indulge in some harmless “mischief.” By the time I was done with my coffee, he had used the washable marker to put about half a dozen small green polka dots on one of his legs, and was quite pleased with himself and happy to comply when I told him that was enough.

All in all, I call that a win-win.

Let’s Just Call It A Parenting “Style”

I honestly can’t decide if this was a good or a bad parenting decision I made this morning, but this is what happened:

L: (pointing) Daddy go in another room?

Me: *suspiciously* Why?

L: (fiddling with an open marker) Daddy no say why, just go in living room now.

Me: No, I don’t think so.

L: *insistently* Daddy go sit on the couch in the living room.

Me: *even more suspiciously* Are you asking me to leave because you want to get into mischief?

L: *brightly* Yes!

Me: Huh . . . points for honesty, at least. (comprehending) Do you want me to leave so you can draw on yourself with that marker?

L: (nodding) I do! Daddy go sit on the couch now?

Me: (shrugging as I exited the room) What the heck? I could do with a few moments to myself.

A Deadpan Response

Do I believe in life after death?

Well . . . it’s certainly possible, though it doesn’t work out for everyone, obviously. Generally it takes a favorable set of circumstances, and prompt and competent medical care, but it’s definitely possible. If you need proof, if you ask around at any decent-sized hospital with an emergency room and surgical ward, you should easily be able to find an ample number of cases of people dying and being brought back to life to satisfy you.

That’s not what you meant, you say?

Sorry. Try being more specific in your question next time.

This Will Be Bad News For Much Of The Internet, But . . .

The brutal truth of the matter is that if you have to tell someone that you’re a genius, then you’re not a genius.

Define “Safe”

This morning while I tried to come up with a topic for today that wasn’t charged with cynicism (something that’s been a challenge for me lately), I received a sweet and flirtatious text from L’s Mother, quickly followed up by another text adding that the previous text would also serve to give me the number for her new phone. Both texts were unsigned, of course, and I couldn’t resist the obvious (maybe too obvious) reply:

That’s sweet, but what if my wife had read this message?

Naturally, I got one-upped.

I’ve heard she’s sweet, was the immediate reply. But has a tough time working [her new phone], so you’re safe!

Of Course

The other day L’s Mother was out with L, and she was queried by a stranger if L’s father (i.e., me) was still in the picture. Her response?

Yes, his father is at home right now, and he looks just like him. Well . . . there’s an age difference, of course.

I Certainly Didn’t In High School

The other day the puppy drew blood from me. She didn’t mean to do it, of course; she was jumping up trying to get my attention and I was trying to teach her not to jump as one of her teeth caught some of the skin on one of my fingers. It was an accident, pure and simple. It hurt a little bit, but not much, and I wasn’t actually angry at her.

Then I realized I had just been handed a golden opportunity. Making sure L. was out of earshot, I looked the puppy directly in the eye and said, “You little [term for a female dog].”

Why did I do this, you might be asking?

Because I wanted to be able to honestly say I had used the term correctly at least once in my life.

Correction

Yesterday I said (essentially) that lately all my morning thoughts have been revolving around sleep and/or coffee. Upon further consideration I realized that strictly speaking, that’s not entirely true. I do have other morning thoughts.

It’s just that those thoughts have been running unkind enough of late to render them unsuitable for public sharing.