Posts Tagged ‘ funny stories ’

Self-Imposed Time-Out Instead Of Getting Dressed

Wednesday, June 26th, 2013

2 years, 7 months.

Dear Jack,

Three months ago, I told about how you willingly put yourself in time-out as punishment for accidentally hitting my leg while I was getting you dressed one morning… then you tried to escape from being in time-out!

Well, Mommy told me how this week you’ve been pulling a similar, yet almost opposite stunt.

You announce to Mommy, “I want to be in trouble.”

Of course, that means you can’t watch any of your shows on Netflix or any monster truck clips on the laptop.

It would be ironic if it weren’t for the fact that it’s your attempt at avoiding getting dressed.

There’s definitely some circular reasoning in this story I’m trying to sort out:

You don’t want to get dressed, so you want to be in trouble to be put in time-out, which then makes it more difficult to get dressed since you’re supposed to sit alone in the corner.

However, you still have to get dressed anyway, but if you don’t listen to Mommy as she’s trying to help you get dressed, there’s a good chance you’ll end up in time-out.

Ultimately, two things are inevitable: Getting dressed and time-out.

Of course, there’s the both reasonable and practical option:

Let Mommy get you dressed without a fight, then she’ll let you watch Netflix or monster trucks on the computer.

I really look forward to the day that getting you dressed is no longer a struggle.

But then, you might not provide me with funny stories of the illogical situations you get yourself into.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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My Classy (And Gassy) Father’s Day Gift

Sunday, June 16th, 2013

2 years, 7 months.

Dear Jack,

With today being a special day, Father’s Day to be exact, Mommy decided to make our family some of her magical vegan cupcakes.

You got lucky. She let you lick the cake batter from the mixing bowl.

To keep the chocolate “mud” from getting all over your clothes, Mommy and I decided it was best that we strip you down to just your diaper.

Immediately afterwards, Mommy went upstairs to fold the laundry.

That meant it was just you and me.

That’s when things got weird…

You placed the mixing bowl in the middle of the kitchen floor, then begin circling it while holding your spoon to your forehead. (Technically dangerous, though things often are when you’re on my watch.)

It didn’t help that you were by that point “toddler drunk” from the mix of the sugar and the missed nap.

I had a feeling I needed to capture this on video. I couldn’t have known what was about to happen during those 38 seconds I recorded you.

So, actually, here ya go…

Watch the clip of what happened:

That’s right. In the middle of your ancient tribal dance, you gave me the gift that keeps on giving… as you put it, “It was a gas!”

Thank you for my coffee cup. Thank you for my new swim trucks and t-shirt. Thank you for the cool dinosaur Father’s Day card you picked out especially for me.

And while I’m at it, I guess I might as well thank you for the… hilarious memory, too!

 

Love,

Daddy

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Lost In Translation: “No Way, Bug! Get In The Cheese!”

Friday, April 26th, 2013

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

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.”

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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Hurry Up And Leave… So I Can Wave Goodbye!

Thursday, April 11th, 2013

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

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.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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My Son Put Himself In Time-Out… Then Tried To Escape!

Wednesday, March 13th, 2013

2 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

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.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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