One that I'm not aware of, maybe? Because last night we went to pick up some chinese food and the proprietor of New Great Wall started barking out orders to the cooks. My five year old son made a disapproving face and said:
What the heck? Why are those guys talking spanish? This isn't Japan! They should talk like Connecticut!
Read on as I, an evil Dad, make both my kids cry and yet get a good laugh out of it. I tried to be as faithful as possible to the actual events and dialog.
Saturday Afternoon:
[Int. Fridge's kitchen]
Fridge is on the phone
Jonny (running in to the room): Dad! Daddy! Guess What!!
Fridge: (to person on phone) Can you hold on a minute? (back to Jonny) JB, you have to say excuse me when you interrupt someone....
Jonny: Daddy! Excuse me! I need to tell you something.
Fridge: ... and you know that it's rude to interrupt when they're talking on the phone. You have to wait until Daddy is done.
Jonny: But Daddy! I need to tell you something!
Fridge: Is it an emergency?
Jonny: well... no... but I need to tell you something!
Fridge: Jonny, it's gonna have to wait till I'm done on the phone, buddy.
Jonny: But, daddy! I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!
Jonny throws himself to the ground and writhes in the agony of injustice
Fridge (to person on phone): I'm afraid I'll have to call you back. We're having a meltdown.
Fridge (to JB, who is apoplectic): Ok, JB. You're gonna have to sit at the bottom of the stairs until you've calmed down.
Jonny: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!! Daddy, I have to TELL YOU SOOOOOOMMEEETHIIIIINNG!!!!!
Five minutes of carefully orchestrated histrionics at the bottom of the stairs follow. Eventually, Jonny calms down
Fridge: Ok, Jonny. Come over here please. You know that you can't interrupt people on the phone. It's rude, right?
Jonny: Yes Daddy. [wiping tears] I know. I'm sorry.
Fridge: It's ok, dude. What did you want to tell me?
Jonny (smiling and excited): "Skittle" and "Little". They rhyme!
--
Saturday Night:
[Int. Fridge's living room]
Fridge and Emma have just finished watching Jurassic Park. Clearly a questionable parenting decision as it was too scary for Jonny and he had to leave. Emma and Fridge are discussing the film, which Emma loved.
Emma: Daddy, wouldn't it be totally crazy if there were dinosaurs running around our house!?!?! That would be scary!
Fridge: Yeah that would be. But we'd have Roxy to save us!
Emma: Do you think Roxy could beat up a velociraptor??!?!
Fridge: Actually, no. She'd definitely try to save us if there was a velociraptor trying to eat us. But the dinosaur would probably eat her instead.
Emma: [Gasp!] No! We can't let them eat Roxy! I'd rather have the velociraptor eat me!
Fridge: Well, if I had to pick one of you to feed to a velociraptor, it'd definitely be Roxy and not you.
Emma cries out, leaping on top of a formerly sleeping, now bewildered labrador in a wild embrace.
Emma: Whaaaaa!!!!! No, daddy! That means you don't love my SISTER Roxy as much as me! That's not nice!
Fridge: Hey, I love Roxy, but that's exactly right. I don't love her as much as you. If it's you or her, then she's dinosaur food.
Emma: DADDY!!! That's a very very mean thing to say! Don't say that!
Emma collapses on Roxy, who is thoroughly confused. Emma sobs for a moment or two and then abruptly sits up with a tear-filled face and a slightly mischievous grin
Emma: Hey daddy [chuckles] maybe we can feed Jonny to the velociraptor instead?
It's not the best picture (camera phone), but if you look at this handsome young man's forehead, you'll see a red mark. That red mark was made by teeth. Yes, someone bit my son on the forehead at McDonald's.
How the hell did this happen? Well, I'm not really sure. This is one of those McDonald's with a play scape - kind of a habitrail for human children. I usually let my kids get a bit of the manic energy out before we eat. So, I waited in line to order while they took their shoes off and played. The play area was packed. It's total chaos so I can't pay close attention to them. But they can't get out of there without me seeing them and I figure they're safe. Just after I order, I look back and see Emma walking a truly traumatized Jonny over to me. He's got a weird mark on his forehead but he's holding his composure like a teary little soldier. Initially, it looks like he was struck with forehead the end of a 1 inch pipe. I think, how the hell did he fall and get that? That toddler climbing thing is padded everywhere. So, I look closer and try and imagine what could have done that. That's when I see the teeth marks. A near perfect circle of teeth. I'm shocked. I say, "JB! Did someone bite you?" He musters up a "yeah..." and then loses it.
Now I'm stuck in line waiting for a couple Happy Meals and what I'd really like to be doing is assembling a line up so the victim can identify the perpetrator of this heinous act. I'm ready to begin the interrogation of this child by stuffing the little bastard in a garbage can. A concerned Mom in the next line over asks me what happened (they do that, those concerned moms... It's like a club when you have little kids. People who would never talk to you under normal circumstances all of a sudden have lots to say to you. It's kinda like how Harley riders give each other that little salute when they pass each other. Well, only not that cool by any stretch of the imagination. I'm in the concerned mother club) and I say, "somebody bit him." Well, there are some Mom's for whom this is a huge deal - the kind of moms who'd like to pack their kids in styrofoam until College Graduation... for them it's an excuse to panic - and this is one of those moms. She immediately scoots into the play area and decides to declare that there's a biter in our midst (!) and cause a full ruckus. The other moms leap into action. Frantically they scoop up their children and toss them into minivans. The rumor spreads like wildfire. It even makes it back to Emma, who comes over and says, "Hey dad, there's someone biting in there!" "Yeah, they bit your brother..." "Oh Yeah! I forgot!" Er, thanks for checking in, Em. The play place clears out. I should have had the managers lock the doors! Now the suspect has surely fled!
We sit down to eat, not inside the play area because Jonny is having none of that. Did you know someone bit him in there? I make sure that Jonny can see the play area though and I sit next to him so we can try and identify the perp, should he still be here and not on his way home to go to bed. One by one, I ask Jonny. "Is that him?" "No." "How bout that one?" "No." Damn. The trail is getting cold. There is one promising lead, though. There's a kid. He's 5 or so and has got dark hair (as Jonny described his attacker) and looks like, well, kind of an asshole. "JB. What about that guy? He looks shifty..." "No." "You sure?" "Yeah". Dammit!
I go into CSI mode. Bite radius! Maybe I can guess how old he is. I look at the circle. It's very small, maybe a little over an inch in diameter. "Emma," I say, "open your mouth." Hmmm... much smaller than Emma's "JB. Open yours." Definitely smaller still than JB's. That puts the perp at an age younger than our 4 year old victim. Probably closer to 1 1/2 or 2 years old. This makes a lot of sense. That's when most kids go through a biting phase - heck, Jonny did. There's one kid left in the place who fits the description. Dark hair, young. "Jonny, look at that kid. Is that the guy?" "No daddy." "Are you sure, buddy? It's ok to tell me if it is." "No, I just want to snuggle you, daddy." No justice for us today. Jonny seems to have an easier time with that than me.
Later, after eating and many, many assurances from his sister that she hadn't been bitten and it was safe, Jonny finally dares to re-enter the climbing area and come down the slide. He runs over to me with a big smile and exclaimed, "Daddy! No one bit me!"
"Woo Hoo, buddy! One in a row!"
I do a fair share of blogging the wit and wisdom of my 5 year old daughter. Her 4 year old brother, affectionately known as "the boy", "Jonny Boy Be-Bop" (his sister gave him that one) and simply "JB" isn't the word smith that his sister is. He's clever in his own way.
Jonny: Daddy, you're funny!
Dad: Oh yeah? I'm funny?
Jonny (giggling): YES!
Dad (now doing the worst Joe Pesci ever): I'm funny how, you mean funny like I'm a clown?
Jonny (Laughing): Yeah!
Dad: I amuse you? I make you laugh? I'm here to amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how? How am I funny?
Jonny: You're funny, poop-head! (runs up and punches Dad in the stomach and runs away laughing)
Dad (to no one in particular): That must have been in the director's cut.
A buddy of mine sent me this link. Is your baby gay?
Check out some excerpts.
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Pity the poor fetus. There's a lot coming its way. And now there's talk on a conservative evangelical blog of a hypothetical hormone patch that an expectant mother might wear to eradicate her fetus's natural gayness.
The patch, the biological determinism: It's all conjecture, for now. But it hit like a theological IED when it turned up earlier this month on the blog of the Rev. R. Albert Mohler Jr., one of the leading voices of the 16 million-strong Southern Baptist Convention. He blogged on these issues under the appropriately provocative headline: "Is Your Baby Gay? What if You Could Know? What if You Could Do Something About It?"
