Monday, December 13, 2010

Parenting: It's Like Real Life, But Pays Less.

Sometimes parenting is hard.
This weekend, exactly 2 weeks before Christmas, my 6 year old figured out that there is no Santa.
As in a fat man, dressed in red, who enters our house and leaves presents. Instead, Mommy and Daddy continue the tradition started by St.Nicholas in the middle ages, of giving gifts on the eve of Christ’s birth to remind people of the greatest gift that was given to us by God.  
The whole “naughty & nice list” thing, however, IS still in effect, and is kept by those who ARE actually watching when you’re good or bad, and KNOW when you’re asleep or awake.
 It also means that when Mommy is Kissing Santa Claus, she is not actually committing adultery.
Unless it’s the Santa at the mall. Then mommy goes on the naughty list and gets divorce papers for Christmas.
The evening was filled with much drama, mainly from mommy not getting to see her friend at the mall anymore, but also from the 6 year old who learned that growing up sucks reindeer balls.
For good measure, and to prevent having to relive the drama in the months ahead, I told him the same was true of the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy.
I’m an awesome dad!

Sometimes parenting is embarrassing.
Folks, I rarely get embarrassed. Usually when it happens, my kids are the cause.
Case in point.
Sunday morning, while sitting in the front of the church right before the service starts, and all is quiet as a mouse, the following takes place:
Lily (2 years old): “See my Wiggle, Daddy?”
Me: “I do. It that Greg?” (In my defense, he was missing his colored shirt.)
Lily: “No, it’s Anthony!”
Me: “Oh? It is?”
Lily: “YES! I’m going to change his pants. And see his weenie!”
*snickering behind us*
Me: “Sssh! He doesn’t have a weenie, because he’s a doll.”
Lily: “I have a weenie!”
*more snickering behind us*
Me: “Sssssh! No you don’t, honey.”
Lily: “No, I have a pee! Sammy (brother) has a weenie! Max (brother) has a weenie! I have a pee!”
*laughing behind us*
Me: “Ssssssssh! Yes, that is correct.”
Lily: “YOU have a weenie! I’m going to touch your weenie!”
*more laughing*
Me: *moving away quickly* “NO! Ssssssssssssh! We don’t talk about weenies at church! And we DEFINITELY don’t touch other peoples weenies at church! We are NOT Catholic!”
Me: “Where is your mother?!”

Sometimes parenting is funny
*cuddling on the couch with the wife, while the boys beat each other up in the next room*
Wife: “That sounds like trouble.”
Me: “No crying yet, so we’re good.”
Wife: *yelling* “Settle down in there! Max,you better not be playing with that wood again!”
Me: *snickering*
Wife: “It belongs under your bed!”
Me & Wife: *snickering*
Wife: “Max, stop playing with the wood!”
Me & Wife: *laughing*
Me: “You’re so naughty.”
Wife: “It’s your fault.”
Me: “ME?! I was waiting for you to tell him he’d go blind if he didn’t stop.”

(For clarification, the “wood” is one of the 1x4 mattress supports from under the bed. Perverts.)


Moooooog35 said...

That's why I wait until the boys are asleep before I cuddle on the couch with your wife.

Coffeypot said...

I read the comment the wife had on FB and I think you two handled it great. I would have cupped him up side the head and told him to shut up and believe or you won’t get shit for Christmas. And Catholics’ get to play with each others weenies and pees??? I’m converting today. Bless you, my son, for putting me on the right track.

The Vegetable Assassin said...

See I think, "on the contrary dear fellow" because I think that's the main reason FOR having kids. To hear the hilarious shit they spout like talking about weenies in church. That would make my entire week! :)

BeckEye said...

I'll always treasure the Christmas candelight service we took my niece to when she was about 4. She picked the quietest moment of silence ever to announce loudly to my sister, "Mommy, I farted." I was still laughing on the way home.

Miss Yvonne said...

It is so hard to teach them what "church whisper" is...I remember it well.

Didactic Pirate said...

I agree. Quality time with the wood should be conducted under the bed. In the dark. In an general atmosphere of guilt and shame that only a therapist will be able to diffuse twenty years later.

Are you SURE you're not Catholic?

Sandra said...

I think you and your wife would very much enjoy the company of me and my husband. We also enjoy parenting from different rooms in which the children are.

BlackLOG said...

What do you mean there is no Santa!!! How does your six year old know? Please tell me he is wrong otherwise my last 44 Christmases have been a lie.....

otherworldlyone said...

That weenie bit? PRICELESS stand up material, dude.

The Demigoddess said...

I'm thinking maybe I should stop reading you. I get so scared of being a parent.

Scratch the hostile fay said...

:::drifting over from someone else's blog::::

Ed: "The Chimney Song", Bob Rivers Comedy Group. Album title "Twisted Christmas", circa 1987, critique records. You may also have heard "The Twelve Pains Of Christmas", from the same album.

"....And fiiiinding a Christmas treeeeeee....."

Cause I know that song was buggin the crap outta you. :-D

Keep up the good (?) work


Scratch the hostile fay said...

PS actually READ the post.

OHMIGAWD. You funny.



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