All I Want For Christmas Is More Bratz Dolls

I hate seeing my little girl so upset and sad.  Seeing her eyes well up with tears and then glide sadly down her cheeks just kills me.  It’s heartbreaking.

What upset her so much?

She had over heard me and my wife talking last night about a story in the news yesterday about how a federal judge ruled that her beloved toy, The Bratz Doll, is to be pulled from store shelves after Christmas and that stores would no longer be allowed to sell the doll.  See Story Here.

My daughter is the type of child that can entertain herself for hours.  Give her paper and crayons, give her paints and a canvas or give her dolls and she will entertain herself for hours. 

The only toys she plays with the most is Bratz.  Why does she prefer them over Barbies?  I have no idea.  And she was not going to answer that question for me last night in the condition she was in.

I probably should have done a better job with making sure she was in bed and asleep before I had the conversation with my wife but the cat is out of the bag and that horse has left the stable.

All this ruling does is hurt the children.  I can understand  Mattel doing what they have to do to protect the Barbie and filing the suit to begin with but can’t there be monetary compensation instead of taking away a child’s beloved toy?

This is just another sign of a greedy adult ruining another childhood for a child.

As I was putting my daughter to bed, she looked up at me with her red puffy eyes and told me that all she wants for Christmas is more Bratz dolls.  She doesn’t want them to go away.

Merry #%$&ing Christmas

When You Gotta Go

The Scene – Friendly’s restaurant (I know, not great food but we needed something quick and cheap) with the family.  We are seated in our booth.  The booth behind me was empty, the booth to my left has an older couple, the booth behind my wife had a family of 4 seated. 

We’ve just begun to sit down and eat our meals.  When suddenly, out of the blue, my boy stands up in the booth, grabs his crotch and loudly proclaims, “I gotta go before i piss myself!”

The older couple to my left, well, the old lady nearly chokes on her coffee.  The family of 4, the parents, I could see were shocked but the 2 boys were giggling.

My wife was turning red and feeling embarrassed.  My daughter was giggling.

Me?  I grab the boy and take him to the bathroom before he pisses himself.

The kid kills me.

Hats Off!

I remember, while I was growing up, getting a lot of life’s lessons from my parents and grandparents.  They made it known that it was the small but important stuff that matters greatly in the world.  And now I am in a stage where I am trying to instill the same things into my kids and I am beginning to wonder if they even matter or relevant any more.

It was always drilled into me that I should hold the door open for people.  Whether I am coming or going, hold the door for the person behind you or in front of you.  With the automatic doors that are in place at most public places today does this even matter?  Or is it because of these doors is this why so many people have forgotten this small but important rule of manners?

In the waiting rooms, or on buses, or just waiting in general and a sick, elderly or pregnant person comes in I was always instructed to get up and offer my seat to them.  Today, it seems like we live in a first come first serve world.  Rare is it that I see anyone offer their seat.  Often times I see families sitting in seats and someone that clearly needs to sit enters and no one gets up, the parents don’t instruct the kids to get up, nothing.

Hats!  When did hats become acceptable to wear indoors?  I was always told that hats came off when you enter a building.  Now I see them being worn all the time.  In malls, in movie theaters, in restaurants.  In Restaurants!  At The Table!!!!!  My dad or grandfather would knock my hat off my body, with my head still in it, if I sat at the table to eat with my hat on.  They would knock my head and hat off my body and throw it across the room and into the trash can!  They would never let me near the table to begin with.

Now it seems that all these simple forms of ediqutte are no longer practiced.  It makes it hard as a parent to raise kids to mind these rules when no one else practices.  But, damnit, I am going to anyway.  I am going to make sure that these manners don’t die or disappear.  Because it is the little things that affect us all.

Can You Pass The Damn Mashed Potatoes?

I manscaped today.  Yep!  I am looking pretty well manscaped today.

I’m just kidding.  Really, I am sure that none of you have any desire to hear about the shaving of any parts of my body. 

When I started this blog one of the things I swore not to do was to get too personal with my readers.  I was not going to bring you into my pants nor into my bedroom, although I did do that once with my son finding the “lightsaber” in our bed.  But that was a story too good to pass up.

With all that has been going on, or not going on, in my life it is almost like I am out of things to write about that don’t expose me.  I like being anonymous.  I am not knocking anyone that opens up to their readers but that is just not me. 

So for me to come on here and talk about my tic tac dick or bald as a baby man area or my conquest of women all over the country when I travel, well, it is just not going to happen.  That’s just not me. 

I might open up more about my kids, more specifically, my son.  He is a pisser.  The kid just makes me laugh my ass off and has been talking some real jems lately.  For example, out of the blue, we are at the dining room table eating dinner as a family when he turns to my daughter and asks, “Can you pass the damn mashed potatoes?”

My humorless wife gave him that burning stare.  You know, the one that mothers have when they are trying to use their Superman-like heat vision to incinerate you where you stand, or in this case sit.  But he did not burn into a crisp. 

I did laugh and could not hold back.  And the boy said it with a straight face and was completely serious. 

Now I am not a huge swearer.  I try very hard not to curse in frontof the kids.  But I do slip.  So does the wife.  But for him to pick that up and use it correctly and in the right context……………… well, that is a proud poppa moment right there.

So as I get back into the habit of writing this silly little blog I think that I will keep true to myself and my goal of not getting too personal but at the same time provide you with the world as I see it.

She’s A Thinker! And A Stinker

I was driving in the car with my family on Sunday morning and Elvis was on the radio. 

For the record, my wife hates any music that was not released before 1980 so to even have Elvis playing was a torture for her and one that I relished in giving.  There is a local oldies station that plays Elvis on Sunday mornings that I will sometimes tune into just because I know the wife hates it. 

We, my wife and I, also agreed to a rule back when we were dating called Drivers Rule.  The rule is that the driver gets to pick the music because the last thing you need is a distracted driver because of bad music playing.

Sunday morning I wanted to listen to Elvis.  This lead to a discussion with my 9 year old daughter about who Elvis was and how he impacted music.  I told her that in the old days, dancing on stage to music was not allowed and Elvis liked to dance, to sway his hips and gyrate to the music as he played and sang his hits.  Basically, he broke the rules to change the rules.

As soon as I said that I knew that with my daughter it was the wrong thing to say. 

My daughter said nothing for the longest time.  I could tell she was thinking and processing what I just said.  I was hoping, that maybe she didn’t get what I had said and it didn’t impact her like I thought it would. 

I was wrong.

“So, if I chew gum at school all the time when we are not supposed to I might be able to get the rules changed so that we can chew gum?” 

Driving Rules or not, I think I just lost my chances to listen to Elvis on Sunday Mornings.

Are You A Christian?

Occasionally I will be asked if I am a Christian and on those occasions I will give my standard answer that I was raised in the church, I am pretty knowledgeable in the Bible and I believe that there is a good story buried in there somewhere but organized religion has ruined it all. 

This usually where a pretty healthy debate and discussion begins between myself and the person asking.  My wife usually will, at this point, walk away from my side and mingle with others because she knows this is a topic that I can usually frustrate even the most devout of believers. 

But this is not a blog about Christianity and religion.  No this is about my vacation in Chincoteague and frolicking in the waves on the beach of Assateague.  For it was there that I was asked about my beliefs.

The setting is the beach of Assateague.  It is early afternoon and families line the shoreline catching the rays of the sun, playing in the sand, splashing among the waves of the ocean or body surfing and boogie boarding.  The weather was nice and hot and the cool breeze off the water made it comfortable.  I was out in the water waist deep with my 2 nieces and daughter enjoying the waves crashing over us.

As I am standing there a little boy swims over to us and asks me if I would keep an eye on him “in case a wave knocks me over and pull me out to sea.”  I’m not kidding.  He really said that. 

Me, being the helpful person I am and being a parent myself I am always mindful of keeping an eye out for children in the waters.  Even if they are not mine.  That is just the type of guy I am. 

I looked around and didn’t see where this kid’s parents were on the beach.  No one seemed to be looking over him.  Again, not a big deal. 

So one of my nieces asked what his name was and he told us he was Jonathan.  My other niece asked his age and he told us 8.

Then Jonathan looks to me and says, “Ask you a question?”

Me: “Sure, go ahead”

Jonathan: “No.  I asked if you were a Christian.”

At this point, I am thinking what kind of question is this coming from an eight year old.  What does he care at this point?  He has already put his trust, his faith, in me to save him should a wave whisk him off to sea. 

Jonathan:  “Because I don’t want to be in here with no sinners.”

At this point, I am hoping that a big massive wave hits the kid and tosses his ass onto the beach.  I was going to tell him that I was an agnostic and let him figure that one out for the rest of the day.  I wanted to tell him that the majority of people on this beach were sinner because they all piss in the ocean instead of walking to the bath house and to get over it.

My nieces just laughed at Jonathan.  

I took a few dives into some waves and turned to look and found our local bible thumper working his way north along the beach.  Maybe he thought I got swept out to sea because of my sinnerish ways.  Who knows? 

I did look to the heavens and thanked God for giving me one more story to blog about.

I’ve Busted The Conspiracy

I know why I was forced to buy a hew hairbrush.

It has become the community brush.  My wife uses it, my daughter uses it and the boy is using it.

My old one was small and could fit in the medicine cabinet over the sink and the new one that I was forced to buy was large and not suitable to store anywhere but on the side of the sink or on the tank of the toilet.

I knew it was a conspiracy!  I knew that there was something more than just my wife wanting me to “update” my hairbrush.  They don’t go out of style.  It’s a hairbrush!!!!!

There are a few things that skive me.  Things that no matter what – I am just not going to share with anyone!  They include my toothbrush, underwear, bathing suit, and my hair brush! 

So you know what?  I kept my old brush.  That’s right!  I saved it!  Hid it so that others could not find it and when I discovered this nefarious little plot the family had going I pulled it back out.  I pulled it out and used it.  Yeah, so you all can go on with your bad selfs and keep using that new brush and I’ll have mine safely tuckered away. 

Momma didn’t raise no fool!

Not Until You Get A Little Older

It was not all that long ago since we brought home our new kitten Penny.  She is all grown up now and full of personality and energy and is great and all that but I think that my wife and my kids are starting to get the itch to get another new kitten.

We have been spending a lot of time lately at pet stores.  In those pet stores we have been spending a lot of time looking at the kittens in the cages.

Now, I am a cat lover.  I’ve had cats all my life.  Growing up we have had as many as 4 in my house, well my parents house, and it was great.  But that was mostly because I didn’t clean the litter or feed them.  That was my sister’s chore. 

But for now I am the feeder and the litter cleaner.  At least until the kids get a little older.  And for now I am happy with the two that we have.  I am not looking for more but the family might have other plans.  

I am going to have to lay down the law and make it known that there are not going to be any new cats coming into the home in the near future.  Unfortunately, I’ll probably end up being out voted and overruled on the issue and we’ll have another cat.

Sorry For Your Neck Injury

My son and I are walking through the Acme (a local supermarket for those that live outside the greater Philadelphia area) to pick up a few things for the dinner that my wife was cooking for everyone. 

Me, being the good husband that I am, decided that taking the boy would be of benefit to my wife since he was just getting in the way of her cooking and just being a general all around pain in the rump.

So as the boy and I were strolling through the market, as is typical of any 5 year old, he was wanting any item that was on an endcap or display rack. 

“I want this” he would say.

“No, you don’t need a candy bar.  Dinner is really soon”, I would respond.

“Can I get this?”

“No.  You have plenty of cereal at home.  Put it back”

“I need this”

“Umm… no.  You don’t need tampons.  You have not gotten your period yet.”

So as we continued down the front aisle of the store, he was continuously lagging behind me as he was picking items up and asking for them.  I kept repeating to him that we were in a hurry and gave him several “Let’s go buddy!”

He yells back to me “I’m coming dickhead!”

The store manager, who was stocking coffee on and endcap spun his head around so fast that I am sure that he called out of work the next morning because of whiplash. 

Of course, since I am well known for laughing at inappropriate things, it was all I could do to keep from bursting out laughing at his outburst. 

I told my wife about the incident and she has since removed all movies, cable and video games from his room.  She thinks that is where he got it from since we don’t talk like that. 

I see many visits to the principals office in my future because of this boy.

That Was A Good One Wasn’t It?

I am terrible when it comes to laughing at inappropriate times.  If there is something funny said or done when it is not the right place or time I will almost always laugh. 

This usually gets me into some trouble, especially my wife, who hates that I will embarrass her or, in the case of the children, encourage them to continue their funny ways.

The latest occurance is one involving my soon to be 5 year old son.  My wife and I were strolling through the local farmers market and were browsing in the furniture store where they make all the hand crafted wood tables and shelves and such and in there they also have many of the rustic or country decorations. 

My wife and I were very involved in looking in this store as we are looking for some new pieces to go with the newly painted rooms.  We were having a discussion when out of the handcrafted gazebo inside the store jumps out my son. 

He lands in a karate stance and yells “Look I am Michelangelo!”

He begins to swing wildly two hand crafted candles, the kind that have the wicks attached that you hang from a wall, like they are nunchucks. 

For all those that don’t get the Michelangelo reference, that is the name of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

My wife was mortified. 

I laughed. 

She scowled at me and yelled at him.  She yanked the candles from his hands and hung them back up in the gazebo and stormed out of the store all embarrassed leaving him and I standing there.

I took his hand to leave and find my wife when he looks up at me and says “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

Yes Buddy, it was!