#Parenting

What a crazy thing it is to be a parent. My son will turn three years old next week. As a stay at home daddy, sometimes I think I can actually read his mind. Sometimes I feel like I still have no bloody idea what I'm doing. Here are some examples.

My son, Isaiah will absolutely never say that he's tired. But when you're around him all day, everyday, I just know. I don't know if it's clues or instinct. He'll rub his eyes. He'll be clingy. He'll throw a tantrum or get aggressive with me or the dog. Sometimes, he doesn't do anything to indicate he's tired. But I always know. So, I put him down to bed.

Brings me to another point. (Typing that I accidentally typed 'Pint' instead of 'point'. Possibly a Freudian slip.) I called my Dad today, to ask him if I was such a prick about going to bed. I'm pretty sure I was. I remember falling off my top bunk and trying to crawl in bed with Mom and Dad. I remember sneaking to watch tv with my sister in the middle of the night. We ate a whole block of cheese. I remember trying to wake up my sister and falling asleep on the floor next to her bed. And I was have been told the story many times of when I stayed with my 'Titi', (Puerto Rican for Auntie) and got up in the middle of the night to eat cheese and watch tv. So, I was probably a prick.

My son got up four times last night. He threw a massive tantrum for today's nap. Then he fell asleep in about 45 seconds. This morning he tore down our Christmas tree because he refused to sleep and the battery died on his tablet. The curse is real. "I hope you have a child that acts the same way you did." Apparently, I did.

Another thing I truly don't understand is three year old logic, or rather, lack there of. "Pick on the puppy all day, and she is going to bark, growl, and probably nip you. Don't come crying to me." Kid proceeds to pick on the dog, fully understanding what I told him. Guess what happened. The ankle biter bit an ankle.

 

Which brings me to another toddler enigma. I am almost positive that I never did this one. "Daddy! I hurt!" As God as my witness, (I'm Catholic, so that's a real thing), I know for a fact he is not hurt. He bumped his knee on the table. He ran face first into a wall. He got nipped by the dog. He dropped/threw a toy into his own head. These are not serious injuries. And yet, the only thing that cures his "wound" is a kiss on the booboo. What is that? Where did it come from? To quote 'Data' from Star Trek, "What is the etymology of that idiom?"

 

Lastly, a trick he pulls that I understand, but don't particularly don't care for. "Daddy! I'm hungry!" Now, I know he's not hungry. I just gave him food that he didn't eat. He knows that he can watch tv on the tablet while eating. He just wants to watch Curious George, Sam the Fireman, or God forbid the stupid dancing crayon show. You're not fooling anyone, kid.

 

One more short, funny story. We have this picture in our living room.

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My father in law saw this picture and asked if that was me in the second picture. (Sorry, Don.) I didn't say it, but I thought it. "No. They just stuck a random black/Puerto Rican baby in a frame with your daughter, grandson, and your grandson's feet."

 

Thanks, as always for reading. See you when I see you.

 

-J