My Son and His Junk

It's ok to love your junk.

My son is a gear head. Gears are one of his biggest obsessions. If it is mechanical he likes it. I taught him how the brake system works on a car about 2 years ago. He still remembers at the ripe old age of 5 and still likes to tell adults about it. I think we’ve fed his obsession over the years. On Christmas, 2 years ago, my parents gave him a bucket of plastic gears…..one of those types of things you would find at an educational toy (what a frickin’ oxymoron) store. It was love at first sight. A few months ago, my in-laws found a few buckets of the notorious gear toys at a garage sale and bought them for their house.  The one bucket had all sorts of fun things like lights and slinky-like plastic springs. I came home from work one afternoon. I was greeted by my wife “Do you know what your son did at my parents’ house today?” I immediately thought it must have been something stupid, perverted, or stupid and perverted since she was referring to him as “your son”. She continued to tell me “He took one of the springs in the bucket of gears in my parent’s basement, hooked a gear to one side to weigh it down, held it in front of his crotch, and said “Hey Grandma, look how long my junk is!” to my mom.” Needless to say, my mother-in-law was not happy.  I immediately started laughing then was told by my wife “Will you stop it and go yell at him. He can’t be doing that.” I went into his room to talk to him about what he had done. Somehow I kept a straight face and explained to him that his actions were not cool and there was a place for his antics…..that place is called college. Every man is eventually proud of his junk, some just arrive at this place in life earlier than others.

You Need to Change What?

What did you say?

My sister, my brother-in-law, and my nephew came to visit us one weekend. After hanging out for a few days and letting the kids play in the backyard pool they headed home. I had to head out of town for business a few days later. I got a call from my wife one evening in the hotel. “You have to hear this story about your daughter. She walked up to me and said “Mommy, I need to change my bitches.  I need some new bitches” Keep in mind my daughter is a soon-to-be three year old. My wife then added “I didn’t think much of it at first. I couldn’t really tell what she was saying. Then a little later I walked into her room when she was playing with her dolls. I overheard her say to her doll “You pooped your pants. We need to change your bitches, you have dirty bitches.” Then my wife figured it out. She was trying to say britches, as in pants. After we thought about it for a minute we arrived at the origin of the slip. When my sister and her family were in town they kept saying “get over here we need to change your britches” to my nephew. Ah-ha! Britches not bitches! My daughter was trying to say the right word and something close kept coming out. I am sure there will come a time when she will want to get some new bitches. As for now, we were just relieved that she was only looking for some clean pants.  Parents –to-be and parents of small children remember this: you should stay away from words that can be misconstrued and mispronounced as much as possible when talking to small children. It could turn out to be a bitch of a situation if you don’t!

Passed Out Drunk Marker Face – The Kids Version

Be careful where you pass out.....

I think at one point or another in our late teens through early twenties we all go to a party where someone who was beyond drunk and passed out was the victim of marker attack to the face. Some of us have been most unlucky and have been the mark-ee, some of us have had loads of fun being the mark-er. I have only seen this type of marking ritual in teens and young adults, never by children, at least until recently. I got home late from work one night thinking both kids would be asleep. I was half right….my almost three year old daughter was wide awake and running around like she was possessed (minus the spinning head) and five year old son was out like a light on the couch. This was nothing out of the norm…..both kids usually conk out on the couch if we let them stay up past their bed time.

My wife and I were in the kitchen talking about something or other.  I walked into the living room to pick up my son and throw him in bed. I turned the corner to pick him up only to find out my daughter had already gotten to him. He was sawing logs on the couch with a toy purse in one hand, a doll under the other arm, pink lip balm all over his face, and some toy earrings hanging from his ears. I yelled to my wife “Hey, come in here! You gotta see this!” She walked into the room and we both looked at each other and laughed uncontrollably. I laughed “She got him good!” and my wife just shook her head.  She looked at my daughter and asked “What do you have to say for yourself?” My daughter pointed to him and said “He’s a girl now!” I thought this was a learned behavior but it is apparently more instinctual than originally thought. Maybe it is genetic? I guess my daughter must have this gene if it is truly inherited. Either way, instinct or learned behavior, she is pretty darn good at this classic party prank. I’m sure she will be a master by the time she makes it to college.

I Played Football not Futbol

One soccer ball + 10 little kids =
A whole lotta fun!

We wanted our intellectual 5 year old son to try out something more athletic so we signed him up for soccer at the local YMCA. My wife got him registered and signed me up for assistant coach. There was a parents meeting just before the season started. I wasn’t going to attend but decided to…..good thing I did because there was no more “assistant” in front of my position with the team…..it was now just “coach.”  So I thought “OK, I can do this. I played football not futbol (soccer) but this can’t be that bad.” I found out the season was only 6 weeks and that each Saturday there would be a thirty minute practice and a 30 minute game immediately following. Maybe I was a little off kilter with my thinking but how bad could it be? 

So the first day of the season rolled around. I showed up at the field early so I could be the first of the clueless soccer parents on the playing grounds. I knew nothing about soccer but just maybe if I paced around the field kicking a ball in front of me I would be able to put on the facade of being a student of the game. I kicked the ball around with my son until rest of the team showed up. Eventually the rest of the parents and kids made their way to the field. There were all the usual introductions…..”Are you the coach? This is your coach. You need to listen to him. He’s going to teach you how to play soccer.” The barrage went on for about fifteen minutes then it was time for practice.

I ran through the roster, found all nine of the four to six year olds on the team, and then we started practice. We began with some warm-up drills. I started off with some direction changing exercises. I held the ball in my hands and instructed them to run whatever direction I pointed the ball. We did this for a few minutes. One kid ran completely off the field, two ran into each other, a few fell down, and three managed to keep up with the ball movement. Then I made them all line up on one of the lines on the field that I don’t know the name of.  I had them dribble the ball and kick it into the net one at a time. One kid picked up the ball and ran away with it.”I want the ball!” and away he went. I finally chased him down and got the ball back. Each kid took a few shots and we moved onto the next drill.

I told the kids to pair up with a partner and kick the ball back and forth. My son took a liking to a little girl on the team and off they went. They spent the next 10 minutes chasing each other around giggling. I didn’t see them kick the ball once.  Two brothers on the team started to fight. The younger boy cold-cocked the older boy and the tears started flowing. The YMCA’s rules clearly state that “No coach is to come between players.” I broke my first YMCA rule and split the two up.  Then we played kick the ball around the giant. I stood in front of the goal and then they had to dribble around me and then kick the ball in the goal. I scared half of them. The other half had fun and so did I.

Game time rolled around and we were off. There was some immediate drama. One kid on my team tried to kick the ball down the field and popped another girl in the face with the ball. It left a pentagon shaped imprint from one of the soccer ball panels on her face. There were lots of tears but I eventually convinced her to go back out on the field. A few of the kids understood that the object of the game was to kick the ball in the opposing team’s goal. The rest did as they pleased…..picking grass, picking flowers, pulling worms out of the ground, sitting on the extra soccer balls, chasing each other and the list went on.

I had a hard time getting kids to play goalie. All I heard was “I don’t want to play goalie! Awwwww maannnn!” I finally convinced one kid to play goalie. He wasn’t digging it until I told him what he should be thinking when the ball was coming at him. “Ball, this is not your home. Your home is in the other goal so my team can score. You’re not allowed in my net!  This is my net and I’m not letting you in.”  I looked down the field and kid playing goalie for the other team was standing in the goal facing out the back with the net pulled across his face.

For remainder of the half the kids ran around kind of chasing the ball and trying to kick it in the net. Some of goalies watched the ball roll by them as if it was in slow motion. My son did a good job making sure the clouds didn’t fall out of the sky. The kids discovered that it was fun to slide in the wet grass and fall down.  One kid thought the ball was a dinosaur egg and kept trying to sit on it to hatch it. We did have one ringer who had played quite a bit. He was very fast and could move the ball well but couldn’t seem to hit the broad side of a barn. The time kept ticking and halftime quickly approached. Things started to come together by the half and showed some improvement in the second half.

We were told in the parent’s meeting that there was no keeping score and the kids were there to learn. Like most of the parents I kept a mental tally and we landed up tying three to three. Needless to say it was utter chaos but fun.  I wrapped up the game with team cheer and off we went. I asked my son what the best part of the game was. He replied “I liked the little girl that I was chasing and that was chasing me.” Well, so much for soccer. All he talked about the entire rest of the day was how he met a little girl with pretty black hair in a pony tail and that he really liked her. My son may not be a gifted athlete, but he is already a lady’s man at the age of five.

Sometimes You Just Have to Pick It

Sometimes you just gotta do it!

I don’t care what people say or how gross it is; sometimes you just have to pick your nose. It is inevitable that you will get one of those boogers that can’t be blown out. There are some types of boogers that can’t be removed unless your finger is involved:

The Trap Door:  This booger is permanently hinged to your septum and flaps in and out as you breathe. It only lets you exhale and if you want to inhale through your nose it just isn't going to happen.

The Cliff Hanger: This booger is super-glued to the rim or your nose and is visible to spectators.  You rub your nose and you can feel it scratch your hand but it just won’t break loose.

The Whistler: This booger is super thin and lodged just right so it makes a whistling sound when you breathe in and out. No matter how hard you try you just can’t find the right tune to dislodge this bad boy.

The Hair Extension: This booger is firmly wrapped around one of your nose hairs and won’t release its grasp. It’s best to nip this one in the bud and get rid of the hair that it loves to latch on to.

Sometimes there is just no way around it…..you just have to pick. If you’re one of those people who tries to be sly and use a tissue…..guess what? You’re still picking your nose. Just remember that you can pick your nose, you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose…..I guess you could but that would be just plain gross. If you have a booger that just won’t go away go ahead and pick it! You will breathe so much easier after this moment of shame.