Legos are a fantastic toy. Justin loves them. Garrett loves them. Heck – even I still love them. You know when I don’t love them? A) When I step on them in the middle of the night? B) When I’ve been asked by Garrett to rebuild his Lego toy after he’s purposely smashed it for the 50th time.
One of the few smart things I’ve ever done is to keep all of the Lego instruction manuals away from the kids and in a waterproof, Ziplock bag. No earthquake, flood, or other natural disaster will destroy the Rosetta Stone of Lego instructions I’ve saved.
Justin is the kid who is perfectly fine building his Legos from the instructions one time and then destroying them to build something from his imagination. Garrett is the kid who needs it rebuilt the way it is on the box over and over again.
For Garrett’s birthday this year, he requested one of the largest Lego structures that’s currently sold – The Lego Fire Station. In addition to that, he also got other Lego sets from other family members.
I still love building Legos….but, the thought of building these massive structures only to have Garrett destroy them and then beg me to rebuild them gave me ‘Lego Anxiety.’ I was so apprehensive about the task that it took me five days to summon the courage to begin this project. 5 DAYS!!! Garrett had the patience of a saint to wait 5 days for me to build the one toy he’d been begging for for months.
As I stood in the kitchen staring at the Lego box, I had an epiphany. Maybe “President Business” from “The Lego Movie” wasn’t the bad guy after all! Maybe his son was a jerk who kept messing up his stuff, even when he was told not to!! Maybe the Master Builders were idiots!!!!
In that moment, I reached into the kitchen cabinet, grabbed the Krazy Glue, and did what every Lego enthusiast tells you not to do. I became “Lord Business” and I glued every piece of that Lego Fire Station together…brick by brick!
I did it to prevent Garrett from destroying my hard work! I did it to save my sanity! And, I did it while singing “Everything is Awesome!”
I have a story to share. Before I do, you should be warned. This story does not make me look like a good person. I was an asshole. I used my own child’s misery to get what I wanted. And, there is some mild animal endangerment in this story. Well…more like “Equine Mockery.” (I may have hurt the horse’s feelings, but that was about the extent of it.) Allow me to explain…
On Sunday, I took Garrett to a pumpkin farm. We arrived at 4:45, but I knew that the farm closed at 6pm. For a little more than an hour, Garrett ran around and played on the pumpkins, hid in the maze, climbed on the tractor, and bounced in the bounce house. Finally, at 5:45pm I convinced him to come and look for a pumpkin with me. Covered in sweat, dust, and some boogers, Garrett happily agreed to leave the play area with me.
As we made our way to the back of the farm, I noticed that they were giving pony rides. I asked Garett if he wanted to ride to pony and excitedly he said, “YES!!” So, we got in line and waited…and waited…and waited.
While standing in line, I noticed that the people around us had yellow tickets. I asked the family behind me what the ticket was for and was informed that we needed to buy a ticket in order to ride the pony. So, I knelt down and explained to Garrett that we needed to go back to the front of the farm to get a ticket for the pony. He put his hand in mine and together we went to get the ticket.
When we reached the ticket booth, I told the woman who was tending the booth that we would need one ticket. She replied, “No more horse rides.”
As I held Garrett’s hand, I asked again. “It’s only 5:59pm. Would it be possible to get one ticket for my son to ride the pony?” And again (without apology) she told me, “No. The pony rides are closed.” (Off in the distance, you can see that the ponies were still going around and around.)
I decided to take a different approach with The Horse Dictator. “Please make an exception. We’re only here once a year and my son has been looking forward to this.” Once again, she said, “No.”
Garrett was about to become the best wing-man of all time and didn’t realize it. As soon as he realized that she was not going to let him ride the pony, he began the “pre-cry whimper.” I could see the tears welling up in his eyes and I knew she saw it too. But, I also recognized that she was not going to be motivated into action by tears alone. With Garrett about to cry, I leaned in to the woman and deepened my voice. “Look. We’ve been standing in that line for 10 minutes. (True) There are no signs explaining that we’d need a ticket to ride the pony. (True) And when we did finally get to the front of the line to get on the horse, we were told to come here and get a ticket. (Not true.)” And I finished with, “….had we known all that, my son would be on the horse right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. (Technically, true)” Clearly, she understood that my tone had changed.
With a huff, she said, “Fine. I’ll ask if your son can ride.” And with that, she stormed off towards the horse area. I grabbed Garrett by the hand and followed her. When we got back to the horses, I saw The Horse Dictator speak with the young man running the ride. All I heard him say was, “Well…the horses are tired.”
I wasted no time and injected my thoughts into the conversation. With attitude and sarcasm, I responded, “What do you mean ‘the horses are tired?’ They’re horses! Do you know what they call ‘tired horses’ in other countries? FOOD!” (Yes, I really said it.)
The Horse Dictator whipped her head around and glared at me. The man running the pony ride actually chuckled and gave in. “Ok, come on. Your son can be on the last ride.” I thought The Horse Dictator’s head was going to explode.
Begrudgingly, she walked over to me and said, “That will be 6 dollars.” I had 6 singles on me. But, I’m a dick and I didn’t take kindly to her attitude. Instead, I handed her a 20 dollar bill and told her I wanted a shirt as well, plus my change. I did that knowing full well that she’d have to walk all the way back to the front of the farm to get the shirt and the change and then walk all the way back to find me.
So, as far as I’m concerned, this story has a happy ending. My son got to ride a horse named “Brownie”….and I got to torture The Horse Dictator.
These are the words I was greeted with as I walked through the front door after a very long and exhausting day. In addition to being tired and mentally ‘fried,’ I had a sinus infection and the antibiotics had not begun to take effect yet. Or, they had begun to take effect, but were somehow putting me in a foul and mildly lethargic mood.
My mother-in-law showed me a pile of Legos on the table that, at one time, resembled a firetruck. Now, it was simply rubble. As MoGWE, informed me of her afternoon and evening with the boys, I continued to look over at the pile of Legos. I think the day had taken its toll because I wasn’t exactly listening to what was being said…and I was thinking about the Legos, but kept losing focus while having my eyes roll into the back of my head out of exhaustion. I keep doing the ‘head bob’ of an old man almost falling asleep while sitting up and then being jolted back to life at the last second….all while thinking of Legos.
After MoGWE left, I sat at the kitchen table and began to reassemble the firetruck once more. Not because I wanted to, but because I wanted to avoid the screams and crying the following morning as to why the firetruck hadn’t been magically fixed yet. (Yes, I am a superhero known as The Night Lemming. My secret power is to sneak around after hours and clean up toys.)
It took me about 20 minutes, but I rebuilt the Lego Firetruck. Afterwards, I slithered into bed and passed out.
There was excitement and glee in the air the following morning as Garrett got his firetruck back!! And, all was well with the world!
The following evening, as I walked into the house, I was greeted by the nanny. Her exact words were….
One afternoon last weekend, Justin and I found ourselves in Burbank running a few errands before going to a comedy show. As we were walking down the street, I realized that we were in front of the door leading to the Burbank Jail. Justin wasn’t paying attention because he was walking while playing with my iPad. (He was multi-tasking.)
We were only there for a few seconds when Justin took notice of the police car that stopped next to us. Two officers got out of their car and they escorted the person from the back of their car through the door marked ‘Entrance.’
Justin waited until the door was closed before asking me the following question: “Daddy? Why is that man going to jail?”
Without missing a beat, I replied, “That’s what happens when you don’t finish your school work.”
I could see the blood drain from his face. Once he realized I was kidding, he laughed…and probably breathed a huge sigh of relief!
If you’ve been following this blog, you’ll notice that it’s very different than most of the other dad blogs on the internet. The purpose of this blog is to share stories. Hopefully, you find them entertaining or educational or (at the very least) they’re cautionary tales. But what separates this site from the others is that there are no ads. There are no banners and no pop-ups. I have chosen not to endorse anything on this site. It’s by design. If I recommend something, it’s because I really like it. Not because I’m required to in order to keep my advertisers happy.
Several months ago, my wife asked if we could take new family photos. I was not thrilled at the prospect. It’s never as simple as “Let’s take some pictures.” There are wardrobe changes, temper tantrums, snacks, toys, yelling, begging, and crying. (All by me, by the way.) And, all of this effort and aggravation for just 3 decent pictures.
However, this time, GWE suggested that we reach out to the wife of one of my clients – Andrew Bowen. His wife, Renee is a professional photographer. I actually liked her work way before GWE suggested it. You should really see her photographs! Click here for her website!
I put GWE in touch with Renee and the two of them planned the shoot. And, I must say, not only was it the best photography experience I’ve ever had….but, the family photos look incredible!! Here are a few of the pictures:
If you live in the Los Angeles area and need a photographer, I can’t recommend Renee Bowen enough! She was fantastic to work with, took exquisite pictures, and presented them to us in such a way that impressed my wife for weeks. I won’t spoil that for you. It’s a “you gotta experience it” sort of thing.
The tank is empty and the filter has been turned off. All that remains are Fred the Undead’s pirate ship, “Bob” spelunker, and Gary the Snail. There are a few goldfish flakes left in the canister, but not much else. Fred the Undead…has died.
Fred the Undead was our goldfish. He had been a member of our family for 11 years. I bought him before GWE and I were engaged and he existed long before there was ever a ‘Justin’ or a ‘Garrett.’ Fred lived with us in three different homes and he probably has the distinction of being the only goldfish in history to have been driven up the 405 to Northridge once and across the 101 to Woodland Hills another time. Over the years, Fred’s gold coloring turned to white, his fins fell off, his tail fell off, his right eye fell out, and near the end – a cancerous tumor grew where his eye used to be. Regardless of all of these setbacks, Fred was in the same spot every morning waiting for me to feed him. He was happy and he was ours. And now, he is gone.
Auntie Shayna and Uncle Jesse have written a eulogy that far surpasses anything I could have written:
Fred (the dead)
“I’m too sexy, right?” said Fred
Yes you are, previously undead Fred
With your bulging eyes
Your tumors, too
Your fins were practically held on with glue
But you were loved
Like no other
For you, dear friend, had two human brothers
Your mom and dad got you before they wed
You knew their love for you they often said
Your orange fins you often shed
And they loved you still Fred the now dead
Present were you at many parties
Family fun and events, even there for dads morning farties.
You almost made it to your bar fishtzvah day
But it’s a good thing you did not for we’d schvitzah ok?
You see, it was your time to swim with the fishes
And we know your life was a good one and fulfilled all your wishes
So Fred the dead, always loved you’ll be
And very much missed by your family. Justin, Garrett, Mom and Dad, they’ll think of you often, because you were so rad.
Legos are a fantastic toy. Justin loves them. Garrett loves them. Heck – even I still love them. You know when I don’t love them? A) When I step on them in the middle of the night? B) When I’ve been asked by Garrett to rebuild his Lego toy after he’s purposely smashed it for the 50th time.
