Monday, May 21, 2012


I can appreciate what high schools these days are attempting to do with health classes.  They want to prepare young people for the hard work required in parenting, and hopefully convince them that they should put a few years between now and the time they actually do have kids.  But I gotta say, a bag of flour (or what ever your high school budget allowed for) just misses a few things.  Yes, it gets you through the first couple months when you have to carry the bag of future cake mix with you everywhere you go.  And maybe you're from that side of the tracks and got yourself one of those dolls that cries every hour till you feed it or change it or put it into sleep mode.  But this is just the trailer for coming attractions.  They need to experience the "I don't know what I want and you have to keep guessing" stage that comes around 6 months old.  The "I'm going to wait until the brief moment you turn your head to do something reckless" stage of 1 and a half.  The famous two year old tantrum stages and the "I can do it all by myself so leave me alone or I'll scream" stage that goes with them.  These are where the joys of parenting truly lie; how can they make these teens think the hard part involves carrying around a 5 pound sack of powdered grain?!  Of course, they also miss the joyous and bizarre things that can't be lumped in with the other stages mentioned.  Point in case; yesterday I was sitting on the toilet, minding my own business.  We're not a shy family - we're not the "walk around with out your cloths on kind of family" but by no means close the door and turn out the lights if we need to change our underwear - but normally I might close the door during such an occasion.  Unfortunately the pool side suite lacks a door going from the bathroom to the living room - there is a door from the bathroom to the garage, though, which always makes it exciting if you're doing your business and hear a rustle in the garage and have to wonder "who might be coming through that door and when" paired with "is yelling 'occupado' worth waking the sleeping baby in the other room?"  Anyway, I'm sitting there, no one in the garage, and things are quiet elsewhere; until I hear the sound of a shaky wheel.  It's easily identified as one of the toy umbrella strollers that the girls have, and it's headed right for me.  Sure enough, the pink wheels shortly round the corner and pull up next to me on the toilet, Arianna beaming with excitement.  "Me bring you necklace Daddy!"  Hooray. She then proceeds to "decorate" me with an array of colored Mardi Gras beads, adorns my head with a tiara and tells me I'm now a pretty princess.  I'm not sure this is the type of throne most princesses are pictured on.  She then leans her elbows on my knees, puts her face in her hands and stares up at me. ... um. ... I'm kind of busy here kid.  "Daddy, you doing kha-kha?"  "Yes, honey. ... everybody poops."  "You get two mm's?"  "No, Daddy doesn't need any candy; thank you."  "Me get them for you."  At this point she attempts to climb up in to my lap to reach the M&M "I peed in the potty" candy dispenser.  This is what I'm talking about. ... they never taught us about this in health class.  Or maybe I was just sick that day.

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