“Roofied” by a Three and a Half Year Old

While at Michael’s Art Supply store, Justin asked me if he could have a toy. He picked out a package of “Grow Creatures”. They come in a package of 10 or 12 and look like medicine capsules. (Major design flaw!) To “activate” the toy, you place it in hot water and wait for the magic to happen! The capsule casing will dissolve and the sponge-like creature will form an animal shape ten times its original form.

As I get older, I realize that Justin’s questions are getting better. However, I’m not yet ready to end a sentence in “Because I said so” – so I now look things up before he asks. Here is a better explanation of what happens with the “Grow Creatures”: “They are made of a hydrophilic (“water-loving”) polymer called a hydrogel, similar to the absorbent chemical in modern disposable diapers. The hydrogel is combined with another polymer which is hydrophobic (not rabid, just “water-hating”), which causes the animal to hold its shape as it grows, and which helps it maintain its shape as it shrinks if removed from water.” (Let’s see Justin ask a follow-up question to THAT explanation!)

I’ve told Justin over and over again – don’t eat the “Grow Creature”, just put it in hot water and wait!

This morning (while I wasn’t watching), he decided to place a capsule in my HOT coffee to watch it grow. I didn’t notice it until I pulled a “Sponge Tiger” out of my mouth.

In retrospect, three things went horribly wrong:

1)    Justin “Roofied” me. He slipped a “pill” into my coffee!!!

2)    Justin actually followed my instructions. He put the “pill” in a hot liquid (as instructed) and he did not eat it (I did!).

3)    Once again, Justin demonstrated “out of the box” thinking that I was not prepared for.

So, the lesson here is: If Justin is near your drink and he looks guilty, something is very, very wrong!!

Oh, Shit…I’m Shot!

While GWE was on a business trip 2 weeks ago, I decided to take Justin to Target to get his first Nerf gun. As I see it, you’re not really a man until you’ve shot someone with a spring-loaded, plastic toy. We picked out three brightly colored guns (with extra ammo) and came home where I proceeded to show him how to load, aim, and fire his new weapon. For the next three days, we ran around the house and backyard shooting each other in the head! We both had a fantastic time and it was a great way for us to play together (and have him burn off some of that “Super Justin” energy he’s got so much of!)

However, this morning, Justin showed me his true colors! He eagerly woke me at 6:15am with his usually rant of “I’ve got to go peepee….I wanna watch “Spongebob”…..I want a mini-bagel with fruit!” I sat him down at the peninsula so he could watch me make breakfast and he could still see the TV. I got him a glass of milk and then proceeded to make him a delicious and nutritious breakfast. While my back was turned I heard him giggle to himself and assumed that he was laughing at the TV. I should have known better.

The next thing I know, I heard a “click” and then Justin shot me in the back with his Nerf gun. As I turned around, I saw him out of the corner of my eye grinning from ear to ear and trying to quickly pull back the mechanism to reload the gun. This little assassin actually got off two more shots (at my ass) while I was trying to find one of the other guns. As I quickly turned around to fire, he yelled “ALL DONE…ALL DONE!!!!!” and he lowered his gun to show me that he wasn’t going to shoot me again. He then told me he was sorry and told me to put my gun away. At the moment I chose to put my gun down on the counter, he pulled out the other gun from behind his back and shot me in the head again!!!!!! What the hell?!?!? I tried to make him breakfast AND show him mercy and he shot me in the head while laughing like a deranged mad man!!!

Let’s see if he likes being woken up at 3am with a Nerf gun pointed at his head! 🙂

Three Wheels, Two Pedals, and No Fear!

If driving a tri-cycle is any indication of how Justin will be as a driver, we’re all screwed.

One week ago, I took Justin and his Harley Davidson tricycle to Balboa Park. I assumed it would be an uneventful trip and that I would need to push him along since I’ve never seen him go more than ½ a mile an hour. Oh, how wrong I was. As soon as I took his bike out of the back of the car, he jumped on it as quickly as possible and SPED OFF! I hadn’t even shut the back of the car yet and he was already speeding towards the playground. I quickly ran after him and caught up to him where the path splits. He sat there for a second and debated – “do I go right to the playground or do I go left to the path that goes around the pond?” Then, he decided on a third option – he chose to “off road” it directly to the ducks in the pond. He turned a hard left, started pedaling, and ended up going down a steep glassy hill as fast as humanly possible. There was only one thought that went through my head – “he doesn’t know how to stop!” Once again I chased after him and was able to grab him and the bike 4ft from the edge of the pond. He then turned to me as if nothing had happened and said, “Look daddy, DUCKS!” Needless to say, I kept my hand on the bike the rest of the time we were there.

In an attempt to give him more freedom on the bike, I chose to go to a different park yesterday afternoon. The park on the corner of Balboa and Paso Robles has a gated biking area for children. It has painted lanes, gas stations, stop signs, etc. This is where I discovered that Justin truly is the worst driver I have ever seen. First of all, Justin prefers to bike in one direction while having his head turned 180 degrees (or, he like to look straight up into the sky). He likes to move forward, but prefers to see where he’s been. He also weaves in and out of lanes! His lane is his lane and your lane is his lane! Somehow, he always managed to turn the wheel at the last second to avoid driving straight into a fence or pole. I have no idea how he did it, but it is a trick worthy of any stunt driver.

Also, Justin thinks that biking is a contact sport. He believes that his purpose on a tricycle is to collide with anyone else riding their bicycle as well. I watched him smash into a little girl riding a “Little Mermaid” bike with training wheels. I watched him smash into a little boy on a scooter, and I saw him go after a guy who was wearing rollerblades. (This reminds me of a funny joke – what is the hardest part about rollerblading? Answer: Telling your parents you’re gay.)

And finally, I realized the extent to which Justin mimics both GWE (Greatest Wife Ever) and I in the car. Several times, I watched Justin stop, do something to his eyebrows, and then continue biking. After the third time, I asked him what he was doing. He told me that he was “fixing his make-up”. (I assure you that this is not something he learned in my car.) I then got a dose of my own medicine by watching him drive and act like me. He would purposely pull up right behind another child on a bike who had stopped. He would then obnoxiously ring his bell and yell “Get out of the way Schlubbies.” (This is my toned down version for when he is in the car with me.) It also seems as though he’s observed those few moments when I may have forgotten he was sitting right behind me. Once, I watched him pull up behind another little girl at the pretend gas station and yell, “Move it asshole, I need gas.”

I truly hope that these are not indicators as to the type of driver Justin will grow up to be. If so, I need to call our insurance guy to give him a 12 year “heads up” that Justin will be needing extra coverage!

Where’s my muffin?!?!?!?

When I was dating my wife, we would go out to dinner and she would end up picking food off of my plate because “I ordered better.” This never bothered me because it was just small bites here and there and I thought it was cute.

However, my son is a completely different story. Not only does he eat all of my food, he jams it into his mouth very, very quickly in an attempt to keep it away from me.

This morning I made a pit-stop at a Starbacks drive-thru for coffee and a muffin. I asked Justin to hold the bag while I gave the cashier money. While waiting for my change, I heard him rustling behind me and thought nothing of it. However, when I turned around to get my muffin – it was gone!!

I asked Justin where the muffin went – he responded, “I don’t know daddy! You need to get another one.”

Family Jewels

Justin and I like to unwind at the end of the day with a little “rough-housing.” It usually begins sometime after dinner and can take place on either the sofa or the master bedroom. (I prefer the bedroom just because there is more space and more pillows just in case someone gets hurt.) I know that playtime has begun when Justin rips off his shirt, flexes his tiny muscles, and then flings himself onto me.

However, I’ve come to the realization that playtime usually comes to an end when someone gets hurt!! And, that someone is ALWAYS me! And – it’s not that I get “hurt” – it’s that I get whacked in the groin!!!!! My “kibbles and bits” have taken a severe beating over the past few years thanks to a certain 3 ½ year old who lives in my house.

When I was growing up my father and I would play, too. We would be in the backyard throwing the baseball around and I would always ask for “just one more.” Inevitably, that last throw would hit me in the head and I would run into the house crying! Now, I pray for a baseball to be thrown at my head!!

These days, I get punched in the “peepee”, kicked in my “kiwis,” or smacked on the “schmeckle”. He has clobbered me with his fists, knees, elbows, feet, and he has even run head-first into my “family jewels.” He’s also used inanimate objects! I’ve been beaten with a waffle ball bat and a plastic fishing rod. He’s even managed to bring me down with a well thrown Hot Wheels car at “Captain Winky and his Two First Mates.”

I now have a theory – he’s trying to prevent me from procreating! That’s right! I am starting to wonder if Justin is taking steps to ensure that he is an only child!

He’s like an explorer who crosses a bridge and then burns it so that no one can follow him.