No . . . Make It TRIPLE!

Parenthood, the state of being where otherwise rational and mathematically competent adults find themselves saying things like, “If that child yells one more time today, I’m doubling their rent!”

Just A Silly Thought That Prompted A Quick Letter To L(A)

It’s been a while, hasn’t it, kiddo?

As much as I hate to admit it, you may well have made the right call in not being born. Despite my most cynical days being behind me, I’ll still concede that the past several years would have been . . . awkward ones for formative childhood years. Obviously lots of kids have done that successfully under even worse conditions, but with the benefit of hindsight I might have made the same call in your position.

That’s not why I’m writing today though.

I hope that one of the things that didn’t factor into your decision was that you were going to be saddled with admittedly extremely old-fashioned name. For the record, I had a more modern short-form version of your name ready for day-to-day use.

“Now Bother Me No More For This Day”

Some years back (as social media helpfully reminded me today) I took a picture of my then toddler son looking suddenly exhausted right after he had managed to smear green cupcake frosting all over the lower half of his face. (I knew the cupcake was too big for him, but I dramatically underestimated the amount of mess he would make.)

But it was the caption I added to said picture that made me chuckle, because it’s a phrase I’ve revisited from time to time over the years since:

“Life . . . she is the mystery understood only by the clown of ennui.”

I Think I Was His Age The Last Time I Even LOOKED At A Checkers Set

“Hey, Dad, will you play checkers with me?” my son asked me this morning.

“Give me just a few minutes,” I replied. “First I need to tell your mom something, feed the dog, and . . . learn how to play checkers.”

He’s Learning!

“Don’t come this way!” my son exclaimed as I walked into the room today. Before I could make a joke like I had last time though, he quickly added, “I wasn’t talking to you!”

At Least There’s A Common Link

When you’re a kid and you’re sick and you finally get out of bed, your parent says, “How are you feeling? Do you feel well enough to eat? Are you hungry?”

When you’re a parent and you’re sick and you finally get out of bed, your kid says, “Can you make me food?”

I Don’t Blame Them For That, But Still . . .

Of late a friend of mine has been taking great joy (a little too much joy, if you ask me) in reminding me to be “patient,” and I’m finding it a challenge to be patient with that.

I don’t consider myself an impatient person by nature, but it’s long been a sore point of mine that I’m not as patient (particularly as a parent) as I would like to be. I’d like to be remembered as a person with vast, even endless, reserves of patience, but that doesn’t seem likely at this point. I do have reserves of patience, I swear, but nobody but me ever really considers that until they run out.

I’m Not Sure What’s Going To Happen Next

Today my son reprimanded me for playing my music too loud.

He wasn’t wrong (it was that kind of song), but I still feel like a fundamental balance of the universe has been disrupted.

Or Vice Versa

Before I elaborate on what I referenced on Friday, let me just say the problem with asking a child to convey a message on your behalf is that you all too often when you say that you’re feeling “a little warm,” they message delivered is “They’re on fire!”

Sometimes I Wish I Was Just Making This Stuff Up

This morning L’s Mother pulled me into her arms, snuggled up against me and said, “Tonight we need to make sure that L. goes to bed on time because I’m really . . .” Her voice became husky here, almost a purr. “Sleepy,” she finished (without irony, I might add).