Saturday, December 17, 2011

Some Things I Don't Like

That my daughter will stand literally three or four inches from the TV screen sometimes. She surely can't see what's going on. The extreme close-up nature of it is often revealed to me by the photographs she's been taking. She gets up to the screen and clicks away. The picture shows the pixels and completely removes any context at all. Lately she's started touching the TV screen like there was a televangelist on. Except there isn't one - it's usually just Wild Kratts.

That my son will wake every morning at 4am and wriggle around like a drunken ferret until I give in and drag him down stairs. At which point my daughter will get the idea that even though it's only 4.45 that it's probably alright to get up as well. And yet the one time we all need to be up to travel somewhere there is no amount of noise or violence that can wake them.

That my wife has taught both her offspring that the best time and place to have a conversation is when one of them is having a poo. Preferably instigated by the poo-ee. And that conversation should include at least two people marveling at the girth and color combination of aforementioned monkey fudge.

That when I shower my daughter will not only always be in there with me, but that she will tactlessly stoop beneath me with a cup/jug attempting to catch the water runoff from my wobbly bits. No amount of complaining from me will stop her. Nor the fact that the shower is already pouring right into the cup/jug already. No - she wants to collect water from, "the Daddy tap."

That it's pretty much a given that whatever clothes my kids and I put on in the morning when we get up will be covered in urine, mud or something unidentifiable but sticky by 10am.

That my son will run at me like a crazed brain-hungry zombie when he notices me getting dressed with the sole intention of hilariously punching me in the knob.

That my daughter will ask for a snack to eat and then come back to me five minutes later to tell me that she's done with it and wants to know if it should go in the garbage, her brother or the dog. Then wait another fifteen minutes and she'll want to know who has swooped in and stolen her snack that she was keeping especially for the special occasion that is happening right now.

That none of the the other three members of my family can drink anything without nearly dying. All of them will calmly sip on a glass of water and then choke to the point of coughing up everything they've eaten that day. It's ridiculous. Mind you I don't know how to blow my nose or swim so should keep quiet about doing things that normal people can do.

That my daughter lives by such hard and fast rules that any deviation from then can cause a emotional eruption comparable to Krakatoa. Except that's fine - kids are kids. No what is much much more infuriating is that my daughter will misremember these rules and then erupt until it's pointed out that she's wrong. Take a few weeks ago when I finished helping her brush her teeth. At this point she always overfills a cup with water and swills her gob out. Confused she misremembered that after you floss and use Act you aren't supposed to drink juice or eat. She put the two together and went fucking ballistic. Twenty minutes later after frustrated cries and angry spasms it hit her and she quickly just said, "oh - I forgot..." and went to sleep.

That one of the things that truly fills my daughter with undiminished joy is to give her a balloon. And that the most intense white-hot mortifying despair that she exhibits is when that balloon pops later on that day.

That any bad habit that I and my wife exhibit has to be eradicated immediately lest our kids observe it and do it themselves. Obviously at this point I should detail one of my dirty little habits and how I had to point out to my kids that real grown ups - and especially good children - don't behave like that. Instead I'll just mention my constant protestations to my wife not to pick her nose and then EDITED TO DIVERT DESERVED SHAME AWAY FROM MY WIFE.

That nine times out of ten my son cannot grasp the concept of freezing bloody cold. So when we go outside to wait for my daughter's school bus and it's blowing icy wind across the front lawn two of the three of us are properly attired. My son will spend this time angrily trying to remove his hat and gloves whilst simultaneously complaining about how cold his head and hands are. Except he doesn't complain with any real sense and will instead accidentally cover his eyes with his hat and then in a panic will run as fast as he can in any random direction until he falls down.

That my daughter won't eat her dinner. Even when I go the extra mile and make her exactly what she asked for she'll insist that she's never ever liked hamburgers. More annoying is that when we stay with the in-laws she clears her plate at every meal. It doesn't matter what I've made for dinner - she will actually gag while attempting to eat it to please her bullying parents. Add that she'll ask for a glass of milk and then rapidly suck that down gripped with anxiety at the thought of putting chicken (which she's obviously never liked) in her mouth and then inevitably choke on it.

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