One of the best things about being a parent blogger is the never-ending supply of material your kids give to you. And Will supplied me with two such anecdotes in a 24-hour span. To wit:
A DJ on the radio was talking about his dog, Fenway. We used to have a Dalmatian named Fenway. Will remembered that and said “Dada, I know we used to have a dog named Fenway but I don’t remember. Why don’t we have Fenway anymore?”
Truth be told, we don’t have Fenway anymore because she was a horror show of a dog. Dalmatians are pretty neurotic to begin with, but Fenway was manageable. But that was before Will. Once Will was born she really started acting out. She was never violent towards him or anything, but she certainly resented him. Fenway started pissing on the floor all the time, eating things she wasn’t supposed to and generally being a doggie douchebag.
But I didn’t want to tell Will that, in part because I worried he’d feel responsible. So I told him most of the truth. That we found an older man who had raised Dalmatians his whole life and had recently lost his dog, and that Fenway now got to play with him all the time in a house where she was the only dog. I told him we found her another home to live in because she’s much happier there and Fenway can be herself and do her thing. I thought I was safe with this answer.
A few minutes later we had to leave and Will had to get his shoes on. I asked him to put on his shoes three times but he was ignoring me in favor of the TV. Finally I had to get stern with him, but he still ignored me. So I shut the TV off. Well that set him off on a screaming tantrum of epic proportions. He yelled until he was purple in the face, screaming something unintelligible to human ears. Out of curiosity I asked him to slow down and repeat what he was saying.
“I WANT YOU TO FIND ME A NEW HOME LIKE FENWAY SO I CAN BE HAPPY!!”
The second gem my son bestowed upon us came — surprise, surprise — during another screaming fit after I had to discipline him for something else. Something a bit more embarrassing.
You see, Will has gotten into a bad habit as of late. He’s always been rather fond of the members of the female persuasion, but mainly that was limited to him professing his love to attractive women in the mall. Or flirting with waitresses. No big deal. But lately he’s…well he’s been…grabbing boobs. It’s bad. He goes right for ’em. Two hands to the chest and lots of squeezing. We’ve been giving him
timeouts and explaining to him why it’s not acceptable to do that, but it doesn’t seem to be sinking in.
A few nights ago he was getting down from the dinner table and he did it to my mom. Just reached right out and gave them a honk. Totally inappropriate and I was PISSED. I barked out his name and told him to get his butt over to me. He knew what he did and he knew he was in trouble, so he was bawling like a madman. But I wanted to know why he was doing this. Why he felt the need to grab boobs all the time. So I asked him. I asked him straight-out why he feels the need to grab boobs. Know what he said?”BECAUSE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!”
You try keeping a straight face and continuing discipline after that. It’s not possible. Not to mention, I kinda feel for him. I’d be lying if I said MJ hadn’t knocked my hands away after I inappropriately grabbed her ta-tas, immediately followed by my desperate pleas of “BUT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!” I mean — they’re boobs. Hell yeah we love them.