Category Archives: Asserting Independence

Putt-Putt (Almost A Contact Sport)

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It was a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and Justin, Garrett, and I had nothing to do. GWE was on a flight to Toronto for a business trip and it was the first day of “Guy’s Week” aka “Home Alone: The Dad Edition.” As I looked at both boys lounging lazily on the sofa, I saw their pale skin and round bellies and thought they needed to be playing outside. Fresh air, physical activity, and sunshine would do them some good! However, I couldn’t get them to go to the back yard. No amount of passively saying “go outside” seemed to work.

And then, I had an idea! I walked over to the television, turned it off (to the sounds of bitter complaining and crying,) and told the boys to get in the car….or else. (“Or else” works a lot more than you might think!)

As we pulled up to the putt-putt place, both Garrett and Justin ‘excitedly’ screamed, “NO!!! WE DON’T WANT TO GO HERE!!” I turned around and informed them both that whenever they decide to get their driver’s license and buy their own car, they can go wherever they want! (Right…..that’s not going to come back and bite me in the ass in 6 years, 11 months, and 4 days from now.)

With anger in their eyes and hatred in their hearts (probably towards me,) they walked into the Sherman Oaks Castle Park. They were so angry at me, that I thought it would be hilarious to make them smile and look like they were having a good time. This is the picture:

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I swear, they were not having a good time. They were angry!

Here is the problem with taking a 9 year old and a 4 year old to putt-putt. The 9 year old has spent months taking real golf lessons and is now competitive when it comes to the game of golf. He wants to play by the rules and WIN by the rules. The 4 year old DOES NOT WANT TO LOSE to his brother, but he also doesn’t want to follow the rules of the game either. So, this is what would happen: Justin would line up his shot, take his stroke, and usually be in the cup after 1 or 2 putts. Garrett would hit his first ball, run after it, pick it up, and then run over to the cup and drop it in.

Needless to say, Justin was having a meltdown every time Garrett did this and would get very upset because he felt as though Garrett was cheating. On the other hand, Garrett would see Justin get the ball into the cup first and then have an even bigger meltdown because he refused to lose to his brother. No matter how much I tried to explain to them that they were not playing against one another…..they saw it as all-out war against one another.

We only made it to the 6th hole before I gave up. Once Garrett tried to attack his brother with the golf club while screaming unintelligible words all the while having streams of tears coming down from his eyes and lines of snot pouring out of this nose, I thought….ok, we’re done.

Once we were in the car and everyone had calmed down, I heard Garrett ask, “Daddy? Can we come back tomorrow?”

Not kidding. He really said it.

 

It’s Only Rock & Roll (But, Garrett Likes It) Part 2

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GuitarGarrettAs you saw last week, Garrett loves Rock & Roll. He loves the pounding beat of the drums, the rhythm of a bass guitar, and the wailing sound of a forceful lead guitar. Turns out, on top of all of that, Garrett also has a flair for the “presentation” of Rock & Roll as well!

While making a pit stop at one of our favorite video game stores, Garrett got a chance to express his inner-Rock God. He grabbed the guitar from the new Guitar Hero game, got into position, and began to do (what can only be described as) an impression of Pete-Townsend-meets-Jimi-Hendrix with a touch of Chuck Berry and the look of Buddy Holly or Elvis Costello.

In the middle of the store, Garrett began to rock out with his (bleep) out! Grown men wanted to be him. Grown women wanted to take him home! Grown store clerks want him to put it back! It was quite a sight for all to see.

Here is a little bit of the performance my son bestowed upon the shopping customers of Gamestop!

Cash for Crap (Payment for Poop)

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The art of negotiation is alive and well in my house. Both GWE and I heavily rely on our negotiating skills on a daily basis both personally and professionally. So, it should come as no surprise that our sons have absorbed all of our conversations, tactics, (and some cases) my ‘colorful’ language and attempted to use their new-found skills against us.

Justin is figuring out how to negotiate, but he does not understand the concept of ‘leverage.’ He needs to have something I want in order to begin a negotiation with me….specifically for the Nintendo Wii U he has so anxiously craved for the past year. Many of his conversations have begun with, “Daddy. You will get me a Wii U if I’m nice to my brother for a year, right?” I then have to (again) explain to him that there are certain things I require him to do without expecting any form of gratitude in return. These include: be nice to your brother, clean your room, flush the potty after EVERY use, etc. I have told him that ‘if’ I see grades that I’m pleased with, then we can begin the Nintendo negotiation.

Garrett not only figured out the art of negotiation, but he also recognizes the power of cold….hard…cash! No more Legos. No more stuffed animals. He wants cash so he can get his own toys!

In Garrett’s kitchen, he has a cash register filled with fake money. The more he accumulates, the happier he is. (Smart kid.) However, as we continue to work on his potty training, I need to make sure that he’s actually doing something while sitting on the potty. Like any good negotiator, Garrett recognized that I wanted something…and that he wanted something…and so, he began to negotiate.

“Daddy! Here’s the deal,” he announces, like he’s doing me a favor. “I’ll let you look at my poopoo, but I want money.” See – he’s got the leverage on me because I need to make sure he did something in the toilet before he gets off. And, he’s specific about what he wants – CASH! What he doesn’t realize is that I’m robbing his cash register and paying him with his own money. So, it’s a win for both of us! (Except for last week when Justin caught Garrett taking my debit card out of my wallet and trying to hide it in his ‘secret drawer.’ That’s another story.)

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I’ve paid thousands of (fake) dollars over the past few weeks for the honor of seeing my son’s poop. I don’t know what the going rate for poop viewing is, but I suspect I’ve raised the limit!

 

 

Hide and Go Scare Yourself

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Garrett or Poltergeist?

Garrett or Poltergeist?

Garrett has recently grasped the concept of Hide-And-Go-Seek. But, it’s not enough for you to find him. He has to see fear in your eyes and hear you scream bloody murder before he’s satisfied that you’ve played the game correctly. Sometimes, he’ll announce that you’re going to play (whether you like it or not) and then he runs away in the hopes that you’ll come after him. 

However, there are times when he does NOT announce that the game has begun and he just hides. When you’re not paying attention and a three year old comes out of nowhere while yelling, “SURPRISE!!!!!!!” – you jump! 

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To a child – if it’s funny once, it’s funny a thousand times. To an adult – if it’s funny to a child once, it’s really, really, really, really, really annoying every single time after that!!

 

Naked Pee-Pee Red Fart Butt

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Never before in the history of the world has a piece of art been so accurately described by its own name: “Naked Pee-Pee Red Fart Butt.” This masterful piece of art (and the honor of naming it) came from the imaginative mind of my 3 year old son.

While at an early Father’s Day Brunch, Garrett was presented with a little packet of art supplies. Once he was finished with his ½ bagel, 6 whole strawberries, 8 donut holes, juice, and then MY ½ bagel, Garrett decided to let his creative juices flow. We opened the packet of art supplies and he started to place them on a Superhero certificate.

Garrett insisted that the clothes be glued to the cardboard first and then he wanted the person’s naked body to be glued on top of the clothing. Afterwards, he applied the mask, cape, and lightning bolt. One final piece fell out of the supply bag…a red, curved thing. Honestly, I had no idea where it was supposed to go. Garrett make the creative decision for the both of us.

When the project was done, I held it up and asked Garrett to name it. With a furrowed brow and his fingers gently tapping his chin, he assessed the artistic merits of his work. Finally, I could see that he had an epiphany. He turned to me and said, “I’m calling it “Naked Pee-Pee Red Fart Butt.””

I now present to you, “Naked Pee-Pee Red Fart Butt.”

Going Out for Cigarettes

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Picture-of-kid-smoking-a-cigarette-293x300GWE and I have had a running joke since Justin was born. When the stress of parenthood becomes too much and we can’t take it anymore, one of us will look at the other and say, “I’m going out for cigarettes.”

 

Neither of us smokes.

 

It’s a half-hearted poke at the stories you hear about parents leaving their families in the middle of the night with excuses of “I’m going out for milk” or “I’m going to walk the dog….at 3am!” For us it means, if I don’t walk away right now – something bad will happen.

 

This morning, I took care of Garrett while GWE took Justin to his swim lesson plus a few additional errands. When they returned, I was standing in the front doorway and I looked ‘displeased.’ Garrett spent the morning destroying everything in his path and then throwing a fit when I wouldn’t rebuild (for the fourth time) Lego cars and trucks he had smashed.

 

Justin took one look at me and then turned around to GWE who was still standing the driveway. At the top of his lungs (and certainly loud enough for the neighbors to hear) he yelled, “Mommy!! Daddy’s going out for cigarettes!!!!”

 

Two thoughts immediately came to mind: 1) Justin has a tendency to repeat what he hears at home. I really hope he doesn’t get frustrated by something in school, announce that he’s “going out for some cigarettes,” and then simply walks out of the  classroom. And, 2) Considering my son has never seen a cigarette, I would still consider this a parenting fail.