May

2012

Boys and their Toys

Posted on: Friday, May 11th, 2012

While cleaning up Justin’s toys for the 1000^th time, Greatest Wife Ever made an interesting observation – the toys Justin loves the most have stupid, nonsensical names. When I was a kid in the 80’s, our toys were named after 1) the physical description of the toy, or 2) the function of the toy. Silly putty was actually putty; Transformers transformed; He-Man toys were really manly-men action figures with bulging muscles (yet, some questionable hairstyles); and Speak & Spell both spoke and spelled! Even our board games were named after their obvious function – you “operated” in Operation, you sunk Battleships in Battleship, and my Hungry Hungry Hippos were actually HUNGRY!

Today, Justin’s favorite toys are “Squinkies,” “Zoobles,” “Lalaloopsy,” and “Bakugan.” This is a completely new language to any parent. The only reason I know what any of these toys are is because I watch television with Justin. I see the commercials he sees! Otherwise, I would have no idea what he’s talking about. If I had no frame of reference and Justin asked me for a “Zooble,” my first thought would be to take him back to speech class.

I’m going to perform a service for all of you parents who (like me) find themselves standing in the toy aisle at Target without a clue as to what your kid is screaming about. I will translate the toy names for you:

“Squinkies” actually mean “Choking Hazards”

“Zoobles” actually mean “Gay Gremlins”

“Lalaloopsy” actually means “Dead-Eyed Voodoo Dolls”

“Bakugan” actually means “Will Break by End of Day”

I love buying toys for Justin, but I find that I am more likely to buy him a toy that is named after something in reality. You want a football? You got it! You want Hot Wheels? Sure thing. You want a Kaflashbitz? What the hell is that???

April

2012

Law & Order: SDU (Stupid Daddy Unit)

Posted on: Friday, April 6th, 2012

“Punishment” has become a recent topic in our house. When I was growing up, there were three “go to” punishments that my parents doled out: 1) Taking away toys, 2) Taking away television privileges, and 3) “Go to your room.” I currently have an immaculate collection of original G.I. Joes, Transformers, He-Man action figures, and Hot Wheels because I was rarely allowed to play with them. They are currently in my garage in air-tight, hermetically-sealed containers. If I hold onto them for another fifteen years, they will be valuable enough to pay for my kids’ college tuition!

And, I’m a child of the 80’s – we didn’t have DVRs. If you were not allowed to watch television and you missed something that aired, you were screwed. It was never going to air again! Missed that very special episode of “Family Ties?” Too bad. Miss the episode of “Miami Vice” where Calderone finally gets caught? Your loss.

And finally, “being sent to your room” really was a punishment. We didn’t have televisions or stereos in our rooms. All we had were four walls, a bed, and a couple of books.

I have a theory that it was easier for my parents to punish me as a child than it is for me to punish my son…and here’s why: My parents were not interested in the things I was interested in, so to take them away didn’t really affect them. On the other hand, I really like the things that Justin likes!! I like Television and Spongebob and Transformers and Legos (except at night) and Annoying Orange and Angry Birds, and Batman, and….you get the idea.

So, when Justin puts us in a position to take away his television privileges, it’s actually ME who suffers!! I like TV! I worked hard all day and I want to watch something stupid! Hell – part of my job is to watch television!! One night, we told Justin that as part of his punishment he was not allowed to watch television. He cried, threw a tantrum, and stormed off to his room. Five minutes later, I walked into his room only to discover him watching movies on my iPad. I was pissed! “Justin!! What do you think you’re doing??” I said. “Mommy and I said ‘no TV’.” He yelled back at me “IT’S NOT TV, DADDY!!! IT’S AN IPAD!!”

When Justin becomes defiant or breaks the rules, we must take away a toy. But it is still ME who suffers because that’s one less toy Justin and I can play with. And “go to your room” is not a punishment when your room has more toys than “Toys R Us!!” I can’t remember the last time I saw the floor in Justin’s room. It is covered in stuffed animals, Lego pieces (like it’s a minefield), Squinkies, and other random toy pieces.

So here is my message to Justin – Stop getting into trouble!! You are only five and I have already run out of punishments for you that don’t directly affect me!!

April

2012

Death By Lego, Part 2

Posted on: Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

It seems as though I am not the only one with Lego issues. This cartoon was recently posted on iFunny!

April

2012

Death By Lego

Posted on: Monday, April 2nd, 2012

I have discovered a pain more traumatic than amputation, more piercing than a knife wound to the chest, and some say – more excruciating than childbirth. And, not that fancy “hospital childbirth.” No! That nasty, “delivered-in-the-back-of-a-car-going-90-mph-on-a-bumpy-road-on-the-way-to-the-hospital-with-no-epidural” childbirth. The pain that makes all others pale in comparison is the pain of stepping on a Lego (barefoot) in the middle of the night.

Last night, at 2:15am, I awoke thirsty and decided to get some cold water from the refrigerator. With both eyes closed, I exited the bedroom and turned left towards the kitchen. I made it approximately 8 feet when “Lego-mageddon” occurred. I stepped on a 2×1 Lego piece while barefoot and a bolt of hot pain and sharp spasms shot up my leg, traveled up my spine, and then slammed my brain against its protective skull. I slumped over as if my legs had been taken out from underneath me. A tsunami of curse words never before uttered in that particular sequence in the entire history of mankind began to spew out of my mouth. But, because there were three other people under my roof sleeping peacefully, I had to clasp both hands over my mouth to keep from waking anyone up.

I found myself slumped over, holding onto the wall for support, and trying to open my eyes wide enough to find the Lego that brought a grown man to his knees! I lifted the bottom of my right foot and there was the culprit…still sticking to my foot. I grabbed it and threw it across the room. In anger and frustration, I gave up on the water, turned back towards the bedroom, and limped back to bed.

I would like to point out something interesting here. Legos are from Denmark. “Protective” Wooden Clogs are from Sweden. Both are Scandinavian countries. Hmmmmm…….I see a conspiracy here……..