Teasing

“I'm not going to retaliate.” I could tell from my son's tone that he'd been practicing this speech for a long time. He delivered the statement in a very calm voice and enunciated each word clearly.

“What does retaliate mean?” the little girl across the table asked. (This threw a bit of a wrench in his script.)

“It means when you tease me, I'm not going to tease you back. (We'd had the talk about how when a girl teases you, it means she likes you. He was horrified...)

“I didn't tease you.” There was a degree of self-righteous persecution that was hard to fake, even for a seven-year old girl.

“Yes you did.” He was not backing down.

“When?”

“You called me Dead John.”

“I didn't call you that! I was going to call your dad, John.” (apparently in the heat of not teasing. “Dad John, sound like dead John. Either that or she has some deep seated anger management issues.)

For a second, he was rather flustered because she was not following his memorized script... “Why?”

“Because he calls me Lisa and my name is not Lisa!” (She was completely correct there. But since I can not remember names, this made perfect sense to me.

That comment got the attention of the rest of the girls at the table. Suddenly, things did not look good for my son and me.

After a long year, my daughter and her friends were graduating from being Daisies to full-fledged Brownies. It had been a cool ceremony. My wife had been stressing over the ceremony since she was the Daisy leader. The bridging ceremony was a full-fledged family thing and my son and I were both told (I felt rather harshly and unnecessarily) to be on our best behavior. That was the reason my son was not going to “retaliate”. “Lisa” is Miss “the putz” Ann's daughter (Miss Ann apparently has unresolved jealously issues. Not more than a week after she saw all the attention my daughter got with her near fatal knee injury (see the previous blog), Miss Ann decided to break her own foot. All I heard was something about standing on a table to change a light bulb (I'm going with a freak-table dancing accident.). At her age, she should know bones are brittle and don't heal very fast. Being a concerned friend, I've made sure my daughter reminds her of that very often.). So, over the last several months, they've developed a relationship that can only be described as married. Their bickering (as described by my wife) is so cute.

So, this was why my son was carefully explaining that he was not going to retaliate. The problem was, he was using a combination of fourth grade and minecraft vocabulary and Lisa was listening with first grade vocabulary and chocolate cupcake sugar high. So, even though they were actually saying the same thing and agreeing, neither one realized and the “conversation” was quickly heading toward a nuclear meltdown on both parts (it was like they'd been married for years.)

To re-cap, my son and I were surrounded by a troop of girls. For the past hour, the leaders had carelessly been loading them up with sugar. (Maybe it hadn't been a full hour, but I've learned, when you are surrounded by women, it's always best to assume the worst.) We were both on our best behavior. And we'd just been sold out by Lisa...

“Her name is not Lisa,” one of the girls said.

“Yeah,” the other Daisies chimed in.

There was a feral glint in their seven-year old eyes. Being the mature adult, I knew it was time to diffuse the situation. Never the less, I asked, “How do you know?”

“Because,” they all said at the same time.

“Let me see your driver's license.”

“I don't drive!”

“Why not?”

“I'm only SEVEN!”

“What are you waiting for? You're going to need a driver's license to get a job.”

“I'm too young to work.”

“Then, how do I know your name is not Lisa?”

“My mom said it's not.”

I was going to follow up with her mom is not a very good source since she's a nurse, likes sunburn and dances on tables without proper safety equipment, but my son had taken the opportunity to escape and was playing with the other Daisey brothers. I followed his cue as I saw Miss Ann limping over to see what the problem was. After all, I was on my best behavior.

FAQS

If you’ve read my articles, and enjoyed them, thanks. (If you didn’t enjoy them, then email the link to your friends so they can be angry too.)

A couple of questions have come up that I think need answered. (Keep reading, I’m my usual irreverent self when I answer questions, especially when I make them up.) If you have any questions, let me know at cord0111@yahoo.com. Comments are always appreciated too.

What does your wife think of her starring appearances? (Ok. I paraphrased that one. It was more like; “How come she hasn’t killed you yet?”)

Truth is, she likes being the center of attention and, so far, has been my biggest fan. She even edits and makes sure I’m using the English language good. When she’s reading and spits out her coffee, I know it’s ready to be posted. (It does take its toll on the laptop though.)

Won’t your children be mortified when they get older?

Yes, see the revenge part below. Since they take after my wife and enjoy any and all attention, I think they will forgive me…

Is there a reason you started the blog?

Yes. I’m trying to get a “platform”. This is what the publishing industry calls it when you have a following that can be counted on to buy your book when it comes out. My book, Surviving Childhood and Raising Special Needs Parents, is pretty much the same as my blog. Ask any new parent, that first time they trust their bundle of joy to a complete stranger long enough to escape into the world of adult conversation, and they will maybe admit they are terrified. Oh, they've read the Dr. Sears books and the "Raising your darling spawn." de jour self-help book and can probably quote all the right answers. But deep down, there's the "am I doing this right" syndrome all parents suffer through. Just what is the proper response when your 18-month old son names his wee-wee god? If your toddler likes strawberries dipped in mustard, does that mean she won't get into a good college? Should you be jealous if your son is better at picking up girls than you ever were?

In just over six years, my children have matured me decades, but I am younger than I was before they were born. My book and blog validate and embrace children, family and humor.

So, if you know of anyone with a sense humor or children that have a tendency to drive them crazy, pass along my blog so they can join in the laughter.

Ok, but what’s the real reason for the blog?

Revenge would probably be the main reason. When my kids bring home their first boy/girlfriends, I’m planning on having a long talk with their new friends. (Yes, I have pictures to back up the stories.) Also, when my kids reach that level of insanity and decide to have their own children, I want them to know what they having coming. (Karma can be a sweet revenge.)

Another reason is for the police. When my wife does snap and kill me, (see the article on self-editing), she’s going to need to get out of jail quickly to take the kids to school. I figure the blog will be all the evidence that is needed to prove it was a justifiable homicide.

I have a friend/son/daughter with young children and think they would enjoy reading about your adventures. Can I send them a link?

Did you miss the part about needing a lot of readers? By all means, tell your friends/relatives/strangers you meet on the street/people you hate. The more the merrier!

Are the stories true?

They are truish. The story about the Marine is true though. And for the record, the poem is pretty much all made up. However, my kids have sold me out to their mother many times. (Hence the revenge.) I am keeping their names out to protect them.

Are the articles taken from your book?

No, these are unique. So when Surviving Childhood and Raising Special Needs Parents does hit the bookstores, there won’t be any repeats from the blog. Of course, if I need more material or get writer’s block for the next book, I might take these articles. I’m sure I’ll figure out a reason to rationalize it.

Where do you get your ideas?

A six-year old and three-year old that have way too many of my genes (or the Fed-Ex guy’s) and a supporting wife give me all the material I can hope for. Each dent in my wife’s minivan tells it’s own story. And if I’m lucky enough that my son was in the minivan when the dent happened…

How often will you post?

Well, between working, two kids and writing, probably not as often as I like. (It’s a kinda guilty pleasure writing these articles.) My goal is at least once a week. If you want to be notified when I post a new article, use the link to the left to follow the blog. I’m pretty sure it’ll notify you when the muse hits me and I make it though my wife’s editing regime.