Putt-Putt (Almost A Contact Sport)

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It was a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon and Justin, Garrett, and I had nothing to do. GWE was on a flight to Toronto for a business trip and it was the first day of “Guy’s Week” aka “Home Alone: The Dad Edition.” As I looked at both boys lounging lazily on the sofa, I saw their pale skin and round bellies and thought they needed to be playing outside. Fresh air, physical activity, and sunshine would do them some good! However, I couldn’t get them to go to the back yard. No amount of passively saying “go outside” seemed to work.

And then, I had an idea! I walked over to the television, turned it off (to the sounds of bitter complaining and crying,) and told the boys to get in the car….or else. (“Or else” works a lot more than you might think!)

As we pulled up to the putt-putt place, both Garrett and Justin ‘excitedly’ screamed, “NO!!! WE DON’T WANT TO GO HERE!!” I turned around and informed them both that whenever they decide to get their driver’s license and buy their own car, they can go wherever they want! (Right…..that’s not going to come back and bite me in the ass in 6 years, 11 months, and 4 days from now.)

With anger in their eyes and hatred in their hearts (probably towards me,) they walked into the Sherman Oaks Castle Park. They were so angry at me, that I thought it would be hilarious to make them smile and look like they were having a good time. This is the picture:

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I swear, they were not having a good time. They were angry!

Here is the problem with taking a 9 year old and a 4 year old to putt-putt. The 9 year old has spent months taking real golf lessons and is now competitive when it comes to the game of golf. He wants to play by the rules and WIN by the rules. The 4 year old DOES NOT WANT TO LOSE to his brother, but he also doesn’t want to follow the rules of the game either. So, this is what would happen: Justin would line up his shot, take his stroke, and usually be in the cup after 1 or 2 putts. Garrett would hit his first ball, run after it, pick it up, and then run over to the cup and drop it in.

Needless to say, Justin was having a meltdown every time Garrett did this and would get very upset because he felt as though Garrett was cheating. On the other hand, Garrett would see Justin get the ball into the cup first and then have an even bigger meltdown because he refused to lose to his brother. No matter how much I tried to explain to them that they were not playing against one another…..they saw it as all-out war against one another.

We only made it to the 6th hole before I gave up. Once Garrett tried to attack his brother with the golf club while screaming unintelligible words all the while having streams of tears coming down from his eyes and lines of snot pouring out of this nose, I thought….ok, we’re done.

Once we were in the car and everyone had calmed down, I heard Garrett ask, “Daddy? Can we come back tomorrow?”

Not kidding. He really said it.

 

Parenting can be Alarming

2_1-Alarm-SystemsThere 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.

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Anyone else? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller??

 

I Caved and I Kragled It

Lego-1Legos are a fantastic toy. Justin loves them. Garrett loves them. Heck – even I still love them. You know when I don’t love them? A) When I step on them in the middle of the night? B) When I’ve been asked by Garrett to rebuild his Lego toy after he’s purposely smashed it for the 50th time.

One of the few smart things I’ve ever done is to keep all of the Lego instruction manuals away from the kids and in a waterproof, Ziplock bag. No earthquake, flood, or other natural disaster will destroy the Rosetta Stone of Lego instructions I’ve saved.

Justin is the kid who is perfectly fine building his Legos from the instructions one time and then destroying them to build something from his imagination. Garrett is the kid who needs it rebuilt the way it is on the box over and over again.

For Garrett’s birthday this year, he requested one of the largest Lego structures that’s currently sold – The Lego Fire Station. In addition to that, he also got other Lego sets from other family members.

I still love building Legos….but, the thought of building these massive structures only to have Garrett destroy them and then beg me to rebuild them gave me ‘Lego Anxiety.’ I was so apprehensive about the task that it took me five days to summon the courage to begin this project. 5 DAYS!!! Garrett had the patience of a saint to wait 5 days for me to build the one toy he’d been begging for for months.

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As I stood in the kitchen staring at the Lego box, I had an epiphany. Maybe “President Business” from “The Lego Movie” wasn’t the bad guy after all! Maybe his son was a jerk who kept messing up his stuff, even when he was told not to!! Maybe the Master Builders were idiots!!!!

In that moment, I reached into the kitchen cabinet, grabbed the Krazy Glue, and did what every Lego enthusiast tells you not to do. I became “Lord Business” and I glued every piece of that Lego Fire Station together…brick by brick!

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I did it to prevent Garrett from destroying my hard work! I did it to save my sanity! And, I did it while singing “Everything is Awesome!”

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I’ve Been Called Worse

Thanksgiving-at-Woodcrest-6We’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.

The Horse Dictator

Garrett Horse 1I 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.

Bike-sketball

Bike1 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:

  1. I still don’t know how to play the game correctly because Garrett keeps screaming, “No daddy!!!! You’re not doing it right!!”
  2. 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.
  3. 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.

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I don’t see a bright future for this sport. I’m going to suggest Couch-Golf and Sleep-Surfing next.