Posts Tagged ‘
funny stories ’
Friday, April 26th, 2013
2 years, 5 months.
You are in the stage now where you’re piecing together catch phrases you hear Mommy and I say and incorporating them into your observations conversation.
Yesterday as I drove you home from school, I guess there was a gnat or something flying around you. This is what I heard:
“No way, bug! Get in the cheese!… You’re in trouble. No ma’am! Just chill out. Go find a home.”
From there, your conversation with the bug went from 2nd person perspective to 3rd person narration:
“The bug needs to find his parents. They hold him. They take care of him. That’s weird.”
I’m still a little confused about the cheese part. Do you want bugs to live inside of cheese wedges? Is that where they usually call their home?
The part I understand most from your conversation with/about the bug is this: The bug has a home where he belongs; where he has a Daddy and Mommy who love him.
Thanks, Son. That’s sweet of you to assume the bug’s parents love him the way Mommy and I love you.
I love your backseat radio show. That’s how I’m starting to think of it now.
In particular, I thought your rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” was pretty creative:
“Twinkle, twinkle, purple monster truck…”.
As you would say, “That’s weird.”
Thursday, April 11th, 2013
2 years, 4 months.
I will admit I don’t always understand your logic.
Your newest tradition is to wave goodbye to Mommy as she pulls out of the driveway each morning. I gather that it is a time and tradition that helps you share a connection with her on a daily basis.
But this morning… as Mommy stood in the doorway, smiling at you, telling you to have a good day, telling you that she loves you, telling you that she will miss you, you just stared at her and said nothing.
The moment she walked out to her car, you got excited. You actually got giddy, even.
By the time she started backing out of the driveway, you were jumping with excitement, because finally, the moment had come when you would be able to… wave goodbye to her.
To spell out the irony here. you basically wanted Mommy to hurry up and leave so you could wave goodbye to her.
Your way of thinking is just different than mine, or Mommy’s, sometimes.
Like last night after I put you to bed and you were already overly tired to begin with, you sang at the top of your lungs for the next 15 minutes until I finally went back into your bedroom to remind you that it was time for fall asleep, to which you simply replied, “Okay,” then fell asleep a minute later.
I thought your song choice was pretty interesting, it was a medley of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,” and the “Alphabet Song,” all of which share the exact same tune.
As for me, when I am completely exhausted, like the way I am right now as I write this, the last thing I would feel like doing is singing songs at the top of my lungs.
Logic has yet to become a priority in your life. Enjoy that while you can, kid.
Wednesday, March 13th, 2013
2 years, 3 months.
Sometimes you are just hilarious. What makes it even funnier is when you don’t even know how funny you are being.
Last month in “Getting Dressed? Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That!” I explained how leaving the house in the morning isn’t always so easy, especially when you’re in the mood to just go to daycare in pajamas.
Well, you and I were recently having one of those kind of mornings…
You were physically struggling so hard with me as I tried to put on your pants, it reminded me of a WWE wrestling match. You were so upset with me you were crying and throwing a classic tantrum.
I’ve learned by now not to let myself get emotionally caught up in something like this: I realized you and I were not having a rational discussion or disagreement. Instead, it was very irrational.
You had to get dressed, so I continued to calmly communicate that to you as I pulled you shirt over your head.
Then, in your angst, you accidentally hit my shin pretty hard.
I didn’t react at all, because again, I wasn’t emotionally invested in our struggle- I just knew it almost time for us to leave the house and you still were not fully dressed.
The look on my face surely portrayed one confused dad as you tromped on over to the corner of the living room, putting yourself in time-out. You continued crying loud enough to wake our neighbors, stomping your feet and waving your arms in protest.
Yet… you were the one to place yourself in the time-out corner. I never said a word or even gave you my “mad dad” look.
I was too confused to laugh at that moment, so I used that opportunity to pack my lunch.
Then, as I turned my back to make my way to the refrigerator, I saw you strangely moving sideways like Boom Boom from Super Mario Bros. 3, still crying and flailing around, trying to escape from your self-imposed time-out session.
So I let you.
It was a peaceful and sophisticated car ride that morning. We talked about monster trucks and Cheerios, like nothing ever happened.
Saturday, August 4th, 2012
This is my son, Jack. As you can see, he is a very happy little boy.
Especially with Mimi by his side. That’s his blanket/girlfriend.
We have no idea how she got that name.
Yes, I do recognize the absurdity in the fact that my wife and I daily refer to this thin little blanket A) as a female and B) by an actual human name.
One day a few months ago he just starting calling it Mimi. None of his friends at daycare have a Mimi and his teachers didn’t know anything about it either.
And even despite knowing that Jack is fairly limited in what consonant sounds he can make so far, I just can’t figure out how “Mimi” could translate into “blanket.”
Therefore, Mimi is a proper noun. I base her gender on the way he acts like he’s in love with her… or it.
Mimi is on every car ride. She’s always there during playtime. During dinner too.
We do draw some lines, like bath time.
Interestingly, right after he gets out of the bath, his devotion briefly changes to Tara, the bath towel we dry our son off with.
Basically though, he’s just imaging that Tara as Mimi since Mimi doesn’t really like the water.
What’s really funny though, in the likeness of Michelle Tanner on Full House, what Jack somehow doesn’t realize is that there are actually two Mimi’s!
The other one is actually blue and has little dogs all over it. (It’s true when they say that love is blind.)
We just alternate the two blankets every couple of days so that Mimi is always clean.
Since turning Jack’s car seat around, facing the front now, Mimi has found herself a hostage victim on a near daily basis.
About halfway home from daycare most days, Jack will “drop” his water cup or some random toy from his back seat collection. (Basically he gets bored and wants my attention.)
He then says “uh oh” as if it were an accident, though it never is. Five seconds later, it’s a constant stream of him annoyingly whining.
I explain to him every time:
“Jack, I’m driving right now and it’s my job to keep both of us safe. I can’t reach what you’ve dropped because the car is moving. Once we get to the next stop light, I might be able to reach it for you.”
Usually the whining persists after my clear and logical explanation. So I give him a 2nd and final warning:
“Jack, just chill out and have fun back there. Otherwise, I’m going to have to take Mimi.”
If he’s feeling adventurous, which he usually his, then he continues his distracting moaning to see if I will live up to my word.
I always do.
Then I reach back and grab Mimi as my hostage in the front passenger seat. I wait about 2 minutes, during which time Jack responds:
“Mimi! Mi-mi! Mimi! My Mimi!…”.
Once I return Mimi, all is good in the world and Jack completely forgets about whatever stupid plastic cow that “fell” out of his cup holder in the first place.
Saturday, July 7th, 2012
There’s this classic look my son now gives me at least once a day. It’s the “Am I in trouble for this?” look.
Like when he decided to color the dog in one of my wife’s magazines, as opposed to one of his coloring books. Or whenever he squeezes a toy too hard and hears it creek, thinking it’s about to break.
What’s funny is that this look of his always catches me off guard. He never makes the face when he should.
He will stand on his Leaptop (toy laptop) or chew the rubber tire off an old Hot Wheels car of mine or throw a piece of food in the middle of dinner without any fear.
Despite the fact I have regularly scolded him for all of these things.
If you’re a regular reader of The Dadabase, then you know that one of my biggest “parent peeves” is when a parent warns and threatens their child but then doesn’t follow through with the discipline.
Well, I definitely follow through. My son knows to expect time-out or having a toy taken away from him; according to the crime.
He’s at a stage right now where he’s learning the patterns of what I will and will not accept as proper behavior. So some of these “things Dada won’t let me do” haven’t been firmly enough established.
Jack learns through trial and error. And so do I, in regards to what I’m okay with.
But what’s interesting is that the only things I will discipline him for are the things I’ve already instructed him against at least once.
My son knows that coloring the the coffee table with his crayons is not okay. He knows to get his Sesame Street coloring book to use as his canvas. So even when I gave him my wife’s magazine to color a dog in an ad and said, “Jack, let’s color this dog blue,” it still seemed too much like something he wasn’t allowed to do.
So he gave me the ”Am I in trouble for this?” look.
He and I will always be figuring these things out as we go.
Categories: Growing Up, Home Life, Must Read, Story Bucket, Storytelling, The Dadabase | Tags: dad, discipline, fatherhood, funny stories, guilty look, parenting, parents, toddler