When Justin was a toddler, GWE and I used to take him to an indoor play area called “Tiny Town.” (My father nicknamed it “Titty Town” after seeing some of the nannies.) It catered to children of all ages and Justin loved being there. He liked being there so much that we had his third birthday party there. Several months ago, it closed. However, it has recently reopened under a different name. Last night, Justin and I decided to give it a shot. It should be noted that I was (once again) the only dad in this sea of mothers and nannies.

Justin decided that the first toy he wanted to play with was a teeter-totter that was in the shape of a plane. I took off his shoes and he ran to the toy. I followed him and positioned myself on a bench where I could keep an eye on him. A child who was a little older and certainly bigger than Justin was already in the “cockpit” of the toy, so Justin decided to get into the seat behind him. I watched Justin climb on and then start to rock the plane back in forth. All of a sudden, the child in front began to cry. It seemed unprovoked, but I watched curiously and after about 20-25 seconds the other child’s mother left a group of other mothers and walked over to her son to comfort him. After a minute or two more, she pulled him away from the toy and stormed over to me. In a slight Israeli accent, she demanding to know if Justin was my son. I acknowledged that Justin did belong to me. (There is a “slight” resemblance.)

She then proceeded to tell me that my child “was playing too rough.” (As a side-note, Justin does have a reputation for playing too rough. I am aware of it. It’s my fault.) However, this was one of those occasions when he had not been “rough housing.” The hysterical mother proceeded to tell me that Justin hit her son in the head three times. I politely told her that she was miss-informed and that I had been watching Justin the whole time and he never touched her kid. She then said, “Well, he was playing too rough and my son hit his head on the bars of the toy.” She then pointedly said, “You need to control your son.” And then oddly enough, she stood there for a moment waiting for a response. Maybe an apology…..

I paused, collected my thoughts and then unleashed –

My response was simple. “Let me get this straight – you came over here to tell me that my son was playing too rough when the reality is that your son is an idiot who doesn’t know how to ride a seesaw and you were too occupied with your yenta Mother’s Group to pay attention? Your kid either needs better parental supervision or a helmet.” (Yes, I said it. It’s probably on the security tape because I said it loudly.)

The room got quiet and I could feel the cold stares of other mothers and nannies judging me. The irate mother’s eyes flared red and her mouth opened a little. I could see that she was formulating an evil response, but nothing came out. She turned around, went to the common area, collected her belongings and her children, and left.

I immediately emailed GWE with an update of what just happened for a number of reasons:

1)         I was pissed

2)         I wasn’t sure if this woman would be returning with her Israeli, army-trained husband to kick my ass

3)         I was concerned that I would need bail and GWE was 3000 miles away

The rest of our playtime was pleasantly uneventful.

While at Disneyland, Justin found a toy that he could not live without. He wanted a Buzz Lightyear. But, not just ANY Buzz Lightyear. Justin had to have a limited edition, Vinylmation Buzz Lightyear. If you haven’t seen this toy – imagine the love child of Mickey Mouse and Buzz Lightyear, but uglier. However, the appearance of this toy is not its biggest issue. It comes wrapped in a metallic foil and is boxed to look exactly like every other “Toy Story” Vinylmation toy that Disney offers. Basically, you don’t know what you’ve bought until you have opened the box and the foil. (How did I know about the foil? I secretly tore open one box in the store looking for Buzz.) Justin pleaded with me for the toy, but it was $14.00 and there was no guarantee I was getting a Buzz Lightyear. I told Justin that we would go to a different store to find a “better” toy. We searched two other stores on the way out of the park, but Justin continued to tell me that he wanted THAT BUZZ!!

Start the clock:

12 hours later, Justin told me about how much he loved that Buzz Lightyear and that he had to have it.

24 hours later, Justin was still telling me about how much he loved that Buzz Lightyear and that he had to have it.

48 hours later and we “accidently” found ourselves in another Disney Store. Justin immediately located the Vinylmation collection and proceeded to scream at me that he had to have THAT BUZZ!! I reconsidered getting him the toy, but my concerns were the same – too expensive, no guarantee. I dragged Justin out – kicking and screaming.

50 hours later, I had a brilliant idea! Together, Justin and I went on Ebay to locate Buzz – and we found him! The catch was that we would have to buy Woody as well and it would now cost me $30.00 (included shipping.) We placed the bid.

74 hours later, we lost the bid…..shit.

75 hours later, I bid again on another Buzz ($20.00).

75.3 hours later, I lost bid again…..SHIT.

78 hours later, I found a guy on Craigslist willing to sell me a “Buzz” – until he realized I was actually looking for a toy and not using a code name for heroin. (Absolutely true.)

79 hours later, I found a seller in Cumming, Georgia who would sell me the item. (Don’t ask what I spent.) I begged him to put in the mail first thing in the morning.

Then, I made the biggest mistake of all – I told Justin that Buzz Lightyear was coming.

90 hours later, Justin wanted to know where Buzz was. “Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?” I tell him that it hasn’t arrived yet and would be here soon.

100 hours later, Justin returned from school “Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?” I continue to tell him that it hasn’t arrived yet and would be here soon.

112 hours later, Justin attacked me with more questions “Is Buzz here yet? Where is he coming from? What’s taking so long? Where is he?” I started to crack a little and explained that Buzz was getting on a plane to come to LA and then he would be getting into a van which would deliver him to the house.

127 hours later, “Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?” I now understand why James Franco cut off his own arm at this point in “127 Hours”. If my arm was a Buzz Lightyear, I would have cut it off with just a spork and handed it to Justin just to get him to stop asking me about Buzz.

139 hours later, no Buzz…..“Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?” – At least, that’s what I thought he was asking. All I heard was Charlie Brown’s teacher: “Wah wah wah wah?”

164 hours later, no Buzz…..”“Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?” Daddy began to drink – scotch, neat.

188 hours later, no Buzz…..“Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?”  No. At this point, I considered putting Justin up for sale on Ebay.

200 hours later, I get an email from Paypal – confirming that my order was just shipped. WHAT!?!?!?!?!?! OH, SHIT!!!!!!!!!! …..“Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?”

224 hours later, no Buzz…..“Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet? Is Buzz here yet?” GWE is back from her trip. “Go ask your mother – alot.” 🙂

248 hours later, no Buzz…..However, the incessant “Is Buzz here yet?” questions seem to be fading. Either that or he’s fucking with me.

258 hours later, no Buzz…..Justin has stopped asking me about Buzz, but just stares at me in passing. He hates me. I am the asshole, loser father who couldn’t manage to get a simple toy for his son. I continue to drink.

282 hours later, no Buzz…I used the tracking number to see when Buzz is going to arrive. “Status: No such address. Return to Sender” – NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I double checked the address and it is correct. The post office is now fucking with my child’s happiness.

284 hours later, I used the tracking number again to see if there was a mistake. “Status: Delivered.” Huh? I called GWE who confirmed that there IS a box for Justin in our mailbox. I decided to leave work early to verify this for myself.

285 hours later, I arrived at home and there was a small box with Justin’s name waiting in the mailbox. Justin and GWE were inside preparing dinner. I quickly grabbed the box and hid it amongst the other mail. Once Justin sat down to eat, I started to “go through the mail.” Once I got to the box, I said “Justin – look, something arrived from the Disney plane.” He looked up asked “Buzz Lightyear???” I smiled and told him maybe. He tore into the box and squealed with delight when he saw that Buzz had finally arrived. He happily ate dinner and played with his toy.

285.3 hours later, Justin stopped playing with Buzz and moved on to another toy.

Here is the lesson – it’s easier to score heroin than a Buzz.