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Idea Number 1:
I was going to blog today as one of the imaginary firemen lodged within one of Little Man’s various fire trucks that he “plays” with. You know something about how, the road conditions were sop bad that they endlessly ran off the road, reversed, only to go off the road at the same point repeatedly. You know make it kind of a farcical fiction, much like the Nedley and Pirky drama that I did to desensitize everyone to the death of 2 squirrels. I made a couple of attempts in vain. It just was not working. So I am on to idea number 2 for today’s post.
Idea Number 2:
Last night whilst Wifey was cooking up some ginger chicken (mmm ginger chicken) I was feeding Little Man a sloppy joe. Little Man was having none of that. If he was to be eating a sloppy joe, so was I. It makes some sort of sense really. So we start out in the dining room, but then he is drawn to the calm reassuring glow of the god I call TV. He taunts my god. He toys with my god and make my god play Teletubbies, but that is a tale for another day. He pats the couch and says, “Chair.” This means, I am supposed to sit. I sit down with my plate on my lap. He hands me his plate and then sits on the couch next to me. He scooches over. What? Oh scooch…
Scooch (skōōch)
v. scooch·ed, scooch·ing, scooches
To slide over while seated in small increments
Anyway… he scooches over next to me and starts eating just like me.
Little Man is very much into copy-catting whatever it is that I do. This is a very sweet thing. IT is very humbling as a parent to see your child emulating your every action. It is a very daunting prospect to know that your child is looking up to you as a role model. He takes a bite from his sloppy Joe when I do. He drinks from his glass of water when I do. It is very sweet. It is very loving. It is extremely scary.
“Scary?” you ask. You see, I have some bad habits… a bunch of bad habits… I mean, a whole frikkin’ lot of really un- savory bad habits. Is he to pick these up too? I yell at the refs while watching soccer games that the refs clearly are not watching. I am not really good about throwing things away. I am a scratcher. If something/anything itches, I will scratch it. I do not do this soooo much in public, but in the privacy of my own home, I will dig in my unusually deep belly button with wild abandon, if there is an itch. And that was just one example of many scratching I customarily do. I pick my nose… a lot. Stop judging me, I have bad seasonal allergies… That is something I really do not want him to pick up. I swear like a drunken sailor. Meaning I slur my words and do not make any coherent sense. When my kid curses, I want it to be fluid and properly enunciated. I want it to make coherent sense and singe people’s eyebrows. Is that so much to ask?
So while it is cute and fun watching him eat like me and drink like me, I don’t necessarily want him to be scratching himself in public, picking his nose, and slurring his curse words.
To Recap:
2 Things I noticed at the gym today:
1. Okay if someone decides to work out in just a sports bra and spandex shorts, they are trying to snag a mate
She was looking for people to look at her… to want her… I did not look at her other than to make a note of her wanting people to look at her
2. If a guy is working out in a tank top tucked into his cut-off Daisy Duke length jeans shorts, he is not really working out primarily for health considerations
I mean, really, who tucks their tank top into their pretentiously short cut-offs
Little Man is really really hard on toy fire trucks
I abhor getting up stupid early to exercise
It is like I am punishing myself twice
I am having left over ginger chicken for lunch… mmmm
Man, am I tired now
I was going to blog today as one of the imaginary firemen lodged within one of Little Man’s various fire trucks that he “plays” with. You know something about how, the road conditions were sop bad that they endlessly ran off the road, reversed, only to go off the road at the same point repeatedly. You know make it kind of a farcical fiction, much like the Nedley and Pirky drama that I did to desensitize everyone to the death of 2 squirrels. I made a couple of attempts in vain. It just was not working. So I am on to idea number 2 for today’s post.
Idea Number 2:
Last night whilst Wifey was cooking up some ginger chicken (mmm ginger chicken) I was feeding Little Man a sloppy joe. Little Man was having none of that. If he was to be eating a sloppy joe, so was I. It makes some sort of sense really. So we start out in the dining room, but then he is drawn to the calm reassuring glow of the god I call TV. He taunts my god. He toys with my god and make my god play Teletubbies, but that is a tale for another day. He pats the couch and says, “Chair.” This means, I am supposed to sit. I sit down with my plate on my lap. He hands me his plate and then sits on the couch next to me. He scooches over. What? Oh scooch…
Scooch (skōōch)
v. scooch·ed, scooch·ing, scooches
To slide over while seated in small increments
Anyway… he scooches over next to me and starts eating just like me.
Little Man is very much into copy-catting whatever it is that I do. This is a very sweet thing. IT is very humbling as a parent to see your child emulating your every action. It is a very daunting prospect to know that your child is looking up to you as a role model. He takes a bite from his sloppy Joe when I do. He drinks from his glass of water when I do. It is very sweet. It is very loving. It is extremely scary.
“Scary?” you ask. You see, I have some bad habits… a bunch of bad habits… I mean, a whole frikkin’ lot of really un- savory bad habits. Is he to pick these up too? I yell at the refs while watching soccer games that the refs clearly are not watching. I am not really good about throwing things away. I am a scratcher. If something/anything itches, I will scratch it. I do not do this soooo much in public, but in the privacy of my own home, I will dig in my unusually deep belly button with wild abandon, if there is an itch. And that was just one example of many scratching I customarily do. I pick my nose… a lot. Stop judging me, I have bad seasonal allergies… That is something I really do not want him to pick up. I swear like a drunken sailor. Meaning I slur my words and do not make any coherent sense. When my kid curses, I want it to be fluid and properly enunciated. I want it to make coherent sense and singe people’s eyebrows. Is that so much to ask?
So while it is cute and fun watching him eat like me and drink like me, I don’t necessarily want him to be scratching himself in public, picking his nose, and slurring his curse words.
To Recap:
2 Things I noticed at the gym today:
1. Okay if someone decides to work out in just a sports bra and spandex shorts, they are trying to snag a mate
She was looking for people to look at her… to want her… I did not look at her other than to make a note of her wanting people to look at her
2. If a guy is working out in a tank top tucked into his cut-off Daisy Duke length jeans shorts, he is not really working out primarily for health considerations
I mean, really, who tucks their tank top into their pretentiously short cut-offs
Little Man is really really hard on toy fire trucks
I abhor getting up stupid early to exercise
It is like I am punishing myself twice
I am having left over ginger chicken for lunch… mmmm
Man, am I tired now
6 Comments:
I guess I'm okay with him picking up some of the habits you mentioned - provided he does them in private, of course. But I have to admit that I'm a little concerned that he may mimic your love for "blowing things up in the back yard". I seem to recall that this was a favorite boy scout-induced activity for you, your brother, and your dad.
On the other hand, should he pick up your meticulous yard work habits, I'm going to be thrilled.
My 1.75 year old is dangerously close to swearing. Luckily I have a repertoire of publicly acceptable substitutes.
Like "Ef. Ef. Effin' ef. Ef. Ef."
Or "Mother of all pearl!"
Or "Gosh Darn, somnambulist."
Or even "MARtha STEWart!" (Try it. It's rather cathartic.)
An added benefit is the calming influence of hearing these substitutes come from a child's mouth.
wifey:
it was my brother and I who blowed shit up. It was my father who was all about the burning of things.
peefer:
"Awe, he just said 'em effer."
Yeah, I could live with that
hmmm
the deep-sea drilling doesn't sound like a very attractive habit for Little Man to adopt
I was a fan of the squirrel drama, so I would welcome a fireman skit!
Does your son really like the Teletubbies though?
Jude:
Yes, yes, I too hope that he will not be all about the "deep-sea" drilling, as you so aptly decribed it. Unfortunately, he is already sticking his finger in my belly button and saying, "belly Button." It may be a hope;ess cause now.
CG:
I tried a couple of different perspectives to work the fireman angle. It was just a no go creatively.
as a strange aside, I had a great uncle who was in the London fire brigade during the Battle of Britain. Now that man had some stories...
and sadly, yes, Little Man does like Teletubbies. Wifey and I cringe at their monotony, but he likes them.
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