Garrett got a bath this evening. After he gets cleaned, he likes to have a few moments of privacy in the bathtub to collect his thoughts and play with a few toys. He forbids me from being in the bathroom with him for this portion of the “evening cleansing,” so instead I folded laundry 10 feet away from him in the bedroom. This is what I overheard him say:
“Hi! Oh, you want to get on the airplane? Ok. Yes….uh, huh. That’s interesting.”
Honestly, it was a little weird to hear this conversation coming from the bathtub. It sounded like he really was talking to someone. And then, he said the weirdest/funniest thing:
“Huh! When did YOU start flying commercial?”
Apparently, my 4 year old is very judgmental of other peoples’ flying habits….. from his bathtub!
There are hundreds of decisions you need to make on a daily basis as a parent. Some of these decisions include: “Is my kid wearing warm enough clothing?”, “How much homework I am supposed to help with?”, and “How loud am I supposed to yell when scolding a 4 year old for not following directions?” (Correct answer: Loud enough to get your point across, but quiet enough so that the neighbors don’t call the police.)
Lately, there has been a new decision I’ve been grappling with. Maybe I’m alone in this or maybe you’ve thought of it too.
We have an alarm system in the house and every time we leave, we turn it on. The boys know to wait by the door until the alarm is set. Once it is on, they know there’s a time limit to open the door…walk out…and then close the door. They’ve been great about getting out in time.
However…..
There have been more than one occasion when I’ve set the alarm, watched the boys walk out the door….and then I’ve thought about racing to the door, slamming it shut, and locking myself in with the alarm on.
One of the things that Garrett likes the most about The Hotmobile is his ability to command the car (me) to play any music he wants at a moment’s notice…as long as it’s on my iPod or iPhone. I’ve heard “The Lego Movie” soundtrack two thousand times and I’ve heard the “Spongebob” soundtrack three thousand times. If I hear the “Goofy Goober” song or “The Campfire Song” one more time – not only will I rip my own ears off of my head, but I’ll shred them in the kitchen disposal!
So, here we were with Garrett listening to “kiddie” songs over and over and Justin’s music program at school having him sing garbage songs* like “Shut Up and Dance.” To be fair, they altered the chorus to “Come On and Dance,” but every kid singing knew what the original words were.
(*Just to be clear, I’m not a prude when it comes to music. I am, however, not thrilled when my son’s school’s music department chooses songs where the students have to go out of their way to avoid singing inappropriate lyrics. Just because a song has been “Disney-fied” and made kid-friendly, doesn’t automatically make it appropriate for a school performance.)
By the way – I’m a complete hypocrite. You’re about to find out why.
At some point, it dawned on me that The Hotmobile could become our musical classroom. It would give me a chance to “educate” my boys on the evolution of music. We started with The Beatles, (Early) Rolling Stones, Buddy Holly, Muddy Waters, James Taylor, Billy Joel, The Who, etc. It gave me a chance to give them more music to listen to than they were being exposed to.
What I learned was that Justin gravitated towards Soul, R&B, and Hip-Hop. On the other hand, Garrett really surprised me. He likes Rock & Roll. Correction, he LOVES classic Rock & Roll whenever he hears it. He screams “ROCK & ROLL” at the top of his lungs while doing either ‘air guitar’ or ‘air drums.’ The moment he heard the first notes of AC/DC’s “Back in Black,” he was hooked. I could see him rockin’ out in the rear view mirror!
For your enjoyment, I have attached a video of both Garrett and Justin enjoying one of life’s simple pleasures: Rock & Roll and screaming “bad” words in front of adults. (My dad is in the middle of this “sing-along!”)
We’ve all had moments when there is an opportunity to appear cooler than we actually are, but then something unexpectedly happens and our lack of coolness is revealed to those exact people we were trying to impress. This is one of those stories.
If you’ve been a follower of this blog, then you know that I represent some recognizable actors, writers, and directors. One of my clients happens to be one of Justin’s favorite characters on a show that was recently cancelled. Occasionally, you can still catch it in reruns.
One afternoon, Justin was in my office when I needed to call this particular actor to go over scheduling for an upcoming appointment. (I usually keep work and family separate, but this was one of the few times I didn’t mind crossing that line…because I thought it would make me look cool in front of my son.) As I was dialing the phone, I quickly explained to Justin who I was calling. I told him that I would put the call on speakerphone so he could hear the actor’s voice, but he was forbidden from making any sounds. Excitedly, Justin agreed.
The phone rang once.
The phone rang a second time.
On the third ring, the client picked up the phone and in a jovial manner exclaimed, “WHAT UP, BITCH!?!?”
I have to give Justin credit. He was dying of laughter, yet managed to keep silent…even as he fell to the floor in hysterics. My moment of cool was gone. Karmically, I probably had it coming.
I maintained my professional demeanor, responded with, “Hi there! How are you?” and pretended like my son didn’t just hear me get called “bitch” by someone he’s a huge fan of.
I have a story to share. Before I do, you should be warned. This story does not make me look like a good person. I was an asshole. I used my own child’s misery to get what I wanted. And, there is some mild animal endangerment in this story. Well…more like “Equine Mockery.” (I may have hurt the horse’s feelings, but that was about the extent of it.) Allow me to explain…
On Sunday, I took Garrett to a pumpkin farm. We arrived at 4:45, but I knew that the farm closed at 6pm. For a little more than an hour, Garrett ran around and played on the pumpkins, hid in the maze, climbed on the tractor, and bounced in the bounce house. Finally, at 5:45pm I convinced him to come and look for a pumpkin with me. Covered in sweat, dust, and some boogers, Garrett happily agreed to leave the play area with me.
As we made our way to the back of the farm, I noticed that they were giving pony rides. I asked Garett if he wanted to ride to pony and excitedly he said, “YES!!” So, we got in line and waited…and waited…and waited.
While standing in line, I noticed that the people around us had yellow tickets. I asked the family behind me what the ticket was for and was informed that we needed to buy a ticket in order to ride the pony. So, I knelt down and explained to Garrett that we needed to go back to the front of the farm to get a ticket for the pony. He put his hand in mine and together we went to get the ticket.
When we reached the ticket booth, I told the woman who was tending the booth that we would need one ticket. She replied, “No more horse rides.”
As I held Garrett’s hand, I asked again. “It’s only 5:59pm. Would it be possible to get one ticket for my son to ride the pony?” And again (without apology) she told me, “No. The pony rides are closed.” (Off in the distance, you can see that the ponies were still going around and around.)
I decided to take a different approach with The Horse Dictator. “Please make an exception. We’re only here once a year and my son has been looking forward to this.” Once again, she said, “No.”
Garrett was about to become the best wing-man of all time and didn’t realize it. As soon as he realized that she was not going to let him ride the pony, he began the “pre-cry whimper.” I could see the tears welling up in his eyes and I knew she saw it too. But, I also recognized that she was not going to be motivated into action by tears alone. With Garrett about to cry, I leaned in to the woman and deepened my voice. “Look. We’ve been standing in that line for 10 minutes. (True) There are no signs explaining that we’d need a ticket to ride the pony. (True) And when we did finally get to the front of the line to get on the horse, we were told to come here and get a ticket. (Not true.)” And I finished with, “….had we known all that, my son would be on the horse right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. (Technically, true)” Clearly, she understood that my tone had changed.
With a huff, she said, “Fine. I’ll ask if your son can ride.” And with that, she stormed off towards the horse area. I grabbed Garrett by the hand and followed her. When we got back to the horses, I saw The Horse Dictator speak with the young man running the ride. All I heard him say was, “Well…the horses are tired.”
I wasted no time and injected my thoughts into the conversation. With attitude and sarcasm, I responded, “What do you mean ‘the horses are tired?’ They’re horses! Do you know what they call ‘tired horses’ in other countries? FOOD!” (Yes, I really said it.)
The Horse Dictator whipped her head around and glared at me. The man running the pony ride actually chuckled and gave in. “Ok, come on. Your son can be on the last ride.” I thought The Horse Dictator’s head was going to explode.
Begrudgingly, she walked over to me and said, “That will be 6 dollars.” I had 6 singles on me. But, I’m a dick and I didn’t take kindly to her attitude. Instead, I handed her a 20 dollar bill and told her I wanted a shirt as well, plus my change. I did that knowing full well that she’d have to walk all the way back to the front of the farm to get the shirt and the change and then walk all the way back to find me.
So, as far as I’m concerned, this story has a happy ending. My son got to ride a horse named “Brownie”….and I got to torture The Horse Dictator.
One son won’t go outside and the other one won’t come inside. On Saturday morning I asked Justin to come outside and play basketball with me. He lasted about 7 minutes and then complained of cramps, headache, pending heat stroke, and the possibility of dying on the driveway. While I was tempted to stop playing basketball and start playing dodgeball by throwing the basketball at his head, I allowed him to go back inside. As he headed towards the house, I told him to send out his brother.
Garrett was thrilled to play basketball with daddy. However, as I learned, I’ve been playing basketball wrong all these years. Instead, he introduced me to Bike-sketball.
The object of the game is for Garrett to ride his bike while holding the basketball. He then waits until he’s open (I promise you, he’s always open) and then he throws the ball straight up in the air. He’s not even close to the basketball net, but I don’t think that’s the point. Instead, he tries to ride his bike away before A) daddy saves him by catching the ball, or B) the ball hits him in the head. There are a few problems with this game:
I still don’t know how to play the game correctly because Garrett keeps screaming, “No daddy!!!! You’re not doing it right!!”
He’s a ‘big’ kid. Even if he were to pedal fast enough to get away, the first two rotations of the wheel go nowhere because he weighs too much for the bike and the wheels have no more tread. The wheels go round and round, but he goes nowhere.
Getting hit in the head does not seem to be a deterrent for him. However, my getting popped in the chin a few times by him throwing the basketball straight up before I’ve gotten out of the way – big problem.
I don’t see a bright future for this sport. I’m going to suggest Couch-Golf and Sleep-Surfing next.
