by Jason Good
STEP 3. THE BLUFF. A few weeks after achieving convergence, you must spontaneously offer to sleep in your own bed. This might be hard, but your parents will probably buy you a cake and let you drink all the chocolate milk you want, so it’s pretty much worth it. Plus, it’s only temporary—you’re only doing this so your mommy can get pregnant again. Operation Roommate requires a sibling.
STEP 4. DIVIDE AND CONQUER. Soon, the pregnancy causes sleeping problems for Mommy and Daddy, and they decide (well, mostly she’ll decide) it would be best if she had the whole king-size bed to herself. Daddy cooperates and goes to sleep in the guest room. You now have them exactly where you want them.
STEP 5. STAY COMMITTED. This is a tough one, and I don’t have any words of wisdom here other than “Be strong.” For eight months, you wake only once during the night. Your dad will remain steadfast in his commitment to nocturnal independence. Don’t worry, because it will all come together.
STEP 6. INCREASE INTENSITY. The moment has arrived. Your brother is here and all hell has broken loose. There’s a furious, hairless, shrieking thing in your mommy’s room. Daddy will offer to help her, but he’s sent back to his bachelor room where a scarf serves as a lampshade. He’s thirty-nine years old. You must seize this moment. Increase the frequency of your wakings to four per night. Make sure you’re loud enough to consistently awaken your brother. In order to quiet the 1 A.M., 3 A.M., 4 A.M., and 5 A.M. foghorns, your daddy will come into your room and occasionally stay there.
STEP 7. LEVERAGE EMPATHY. Now, do you know what empathy is? The only thing you need to understand is that it makes grown-ups weak. Use it against them. When Daddy reads to you at night, ask in your sweetest, most innocent voice, “Daddy, will you stay in here and sleep with me all night?” You must cry softly each time he says, “No, sorry, sweetie, Daddy sleeps in the room with no heat.” After one week, your father will relent and Operation Roommate has nearly reached fruition. It’s been a long, hard battle.
STEP 8. PAMPER THE PRISONER. The first night of sharing a bed, you must do everything you can to avoid waking your father. The next day everyone will be happier than they’ve been in months and your mom will say, “Jace, you should probably just sleep in there all the time, right?” Congratulations, young one, you have successfully made your father sleep in a full-size bed with you every night. You broke him. Mornings will now be just like summer camp. You’ll wake up and innocently say, “Daddy? Are you awake?” and then you’ll talk about comic books for twenty-five minutes before heading into the main lodge to eat Lucky Charms with the other campers.
Why I’m Fat Now
We’re all getting fat; mostly due to age, but also because we don’t have time to make good meals for ourselves. I’ve sat down to “eat a proper meal” in my own home about a dozen times in the last five years. The day described below is much more common, and exemplifies something I like to call “The County Jail Vending Machine Diet.”
8:15 A.M.
One piece of multigrain toast with butter and three cups of coffee (reasonable start)
12:30 P.M.
One and a half cupcakes, one espresso, one iced coffee (I think I might drink too much coffee. HI, HOW ARE YOU! I’M FINE! I LIKE TO CLEAN STUFF AND CALL PEOPLE ON THE TELEPHONE.)
1:30 P.M.
Two Popsicles
2:00 P.M.
My legs begin to quiver and I am on the verge of a Victorian-era fainting spell. My blood is 75 percent corn syrup and I need real food. Commence refugee panic eating.
2:03 P.M.
A chicken-finger sandwich with mayonnaise, three heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter and more Wheat Thins than I could possibly count. Oh, and a big glass of water. I feel a little better but I still “take to my bed” for about twenty minutes. My wife suggests I may be overreacting, but my hands were shaking. Maybe my blood sugar was low?
2:30 P.M.
A handful of jelly beans
9:30 P.M.
A medium frozen yogurt with fruity bears (a heartfelt apology to all men for that one)
11:15 P.M.
A small bag of barbecue potato chips and a Charleston Chew (because sometimes I like to party like a 1920s hobo)
I woke the next morning and did what I needed to do to feel healthy again: I went to the nice grocery store and stared at the vitamins and colon cleansers.
Signs That You’re a Bad Parent
Again, there’s no permanent damage here, but at the same time, if you nod to more than, say, half of these things, you should really step up your game.
1. Your child claims his favorite flavor is purple.
2. He refers to the dining room wall as his canvas.
3. When he gives hugs, he says, “Oh yeah, gimme some sugar!”
4. He knows all the characters on Game of Thrones.
5. His favorite color is chocolate.
6. Having never been potty trained, he’s now too big for regular diapers and must wear Depends.
7. His bedtime is “Whenever Mommy finishes her cigarette.”
8. He tells his friends that toast is a fruit.
9. When you ask, “Now, what do we do if the cops come to the door?” he answers, “Flush Daddy’s stash.”
10. Other kids aren’t allowed to play at your house.
11. His litter box is always full.
12. When asked at school, “What’s your favorite thing about weekends?” he screams, “FUDGE FOR DINNER!”
13. He makes the best Tom Collins you’ve ever tasted.
14. The pounding on the attic floor no longer keeps you up at night.
Rules for Power Outages
Long power outages, like those experienced after a hurricane, can be used to your advantage. Instead of you telling them “no TV,” now the bad news is coming directly from the universe. It’s an opportunity to live by the rules of pioneers. Run with it.
1. Bedtime is at “sundown.”
2. No talking to Daddy while he’s chopping wood (or running a power strip into the house from the car).
3. No pestering Mommy while she’s churning the evening butter (i.e., making instant pudding for dinner).
4. It’s the responsibility of children to frolic on command.
5. Whenever a child asks, “Where’s Daddy?” an acceptable answer is, “Off hunting for your dinner! Now get back to whittling a new spoon for your brother.”
6. You can respond to any complaint of “I’m tired” with, “Only children with Juniper Fever get tired. Now go out and see if the chickens laid any eggs.”
Those all seem like a drag for the kids. Luckily, there are plenty of things you can say yes to now—but only during power outages when survival depends on the participation of every family member. The minimum age for all these activities is four.
1. Lighting a candle
2. Making coffee
3. Not bathing
4. Hiking half a mile to stand in line for gas
5. Operating a sump pump
6. Milking a cow
7. Looting
8. Putting new shoes on a horse
9. Dressing up like Oliver Twist to charm old man Gildernhorn into offering us some of his clean water
COMMUNICATE! COMMUNICATE! COMMUNICATE!
Young children rarely make sense, and when they do, what they’re saying is almost always something totally irrational. The quicker you accept this, the happier and more harmonious your home life will be.
Understanding Your Children
Your kid speaks in code, making effective communication quite difficult. Luckily, I’m here to decipher that code for you.
“Just one more time.”
TRANSLATION: Keep doing this until you injure yourself or I cry.
“I’m not hungry.”
TRANSLATION: I’m extremely hungry, but there’s something more pressing at the moment than eating. But when I’m done, YOU BETTER HAVE SOME FOOD READY!
“I’m tired.”
TRANSLATION: I’m bored.
&nbs
p; “It’s too sunny out!”
TRANSLATION: I’m tired.
“I love dancing!”
TRANSLATION: I have to pee.
“Jake hit me.”
TRANSLATION: All I did was kick and bite Jake and then he pushed my hand away.
“I don’t like Jake.”
TRANSLATION: Jake has a play date with Ryan.
“This food is too hot.”
TRANSLATION: This food is one degree above room temperature.
“I LOVE SCHOOL.”
TRANSLATION: We had cupcakes at school today.
“I can’t find my shoes.”
TRANSLATION: I haven’t looked for my shoes.
“This milk tastes like socks.”
TRANSLATION: This milk reminds me of the time I ate a sock.
“I really need Mommy.”
TRANSLATION: Can you get Mommy out of the shower so I can show her the new way I can lick the sofa?
“My favorite color is red.”
TRANSLATION: Mommy’s favorite color is red and I want to be just like her.
Self-Help from a Three-Year-Old
Having kids isn’t all that bad when you realize how much you can learn from them. We all need that special someone, be it a guru, a sun god, a moon god, or a psychiatrist. Look no further than your toddler. Following his or her example will lead to the Valley of Enlightenment.
1. Challenge yourself every day. Try climbing the stairs carrying two soccer balls while wearing your father’s shoes. Remember, failure is an option.
2. De-clutter! Start by throwing all your dishes in the garbage. After that, I suggest toothbrushes and important paperwork.
3. Pee on the floor and stomp in it like a puddle. You’ll be shocked how much better you feel.
4. Whether the glass is half empty or half full is irrelevant if you dump it out on the sofa. You’re welcome!
5. If you’re feeling aggressive, or just bored, scream in a cat’s face.
6. Don’t ever be afraid to hand someone an ice cube while they’re on the toilet.
7. Pound on a computer keyboard. Do you feel super-productive, now? I thought so.
8. If you fall down, stay down. Someone will pick you up eventually.
9. Have you learned to delete things off the DVR yet? DO IT. It’s AwWwWwEsOmE.
10. Seize the day and the night and the middle of the night and the early morning. Seize everything, y’all! Never stop seizing stuff.
11. Tired of looking at yourself in the mirror? So was I until I met my friend permanent marker. FACE TATTOOS ARE RAD.
12. This might be a tough one, but you gotta trust me: Poop in the tub. It’s surreal. Tell Daddy you “did a number 12.” He won’t laugh, but that doesn’t mean it’s not funny!
13. Live in the moment because there is nothing else. Seriously, there isn’t. Not that I’m aware, of at least.
14. If you’re gonna run, do it at top speed, man. Life is too short to walk in the mall.
Use Your Best Kindergarten Spelling
One of my five-year-old son’s assignments in kindergarten is to keep a “night write journal.” The kids are instructed to use their “kindergarten spelling,” which means, “Just do your best!” These are some of my favorite entries.
I woosht shoos aool day
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: I washed shoes all day (poor kid)
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I watched [TV] shows all day (someone call social services)
I went to a Proortyll
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: I went to a pterodactyl
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I went to a party
I plaed with mt 6amoo
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: He played with his friend 6amoo (weird name!) which is apparently a mountain (also weird)
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I played with my grandma
iam grouch whe my braurttist me
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: Something about a grouchy bratwurst
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I am grouchy when my brother hits me
I Plyd way it was Fan
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: . . . ? ? ? ? . . .
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I played Wii. It was fun.
I goat poops els
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: I’m a goat that poops eels? (horrifying)
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I got Popsicles
I loot at noo hoasis
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: I looted no horses (good boy!)
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I looked at new houses
I jopt in a pad. I woct Ho Min ve ran
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: Something about running around Ho Chi Min City with an iPad?
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I jumped in a puddle. I walked home in the rain.
If I had the big st icecream I wad edit olap
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: If I had big street ice cream I would edit [a programming language I’ve never heard of]
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: If I had the biggest ice cream I would eat it all up.
I had aeastreg hat
WHAT I THOUGHT IT SAID: He ate a bizarre Scandinavian hat?
WHAT IT ACTUALLY SAID: I had an Easter egg hunt
How Toddlers Tell You They’re Hungry
For reasons even evolutionary biologists don’t understand, young children are incapable of simply saying they’re hungry. Instead, they . . .
1. Throw a shoe at the TV
2. Bite a puzzle piece
3. Rip all the petals off a flower
4. Spend ten silent minutes putting stickers on the refrigerator
5. Tear up their brother’s wizard hat
6. Obsessively take off and put on their socks
7. Try to cut their own hair
8. Fall asleep at 6 P.M. while chanting, “I’m not hungry”
9. Disappear, and then resurface without pants on
10. Break the world record for “decibels achieved while playing the Elmo flute”
Then again, these behaviors might be his ways of telling you he’s . . .
1. Tired
2. Hot
3. Bored
4. Not hungry
5. Thirsty
6. Itchy
7. Not thirsty
8. Gassy
9. In need of a haircut
10. Experiencing an existential crisis
Kids are confusing.
Car Talk
Car rides are boring—even the ones that last four minutes. Though kids usually have a decent time, these are some of the things they like to argue over when the trip is longer than three minutes.
1. Whether we’re going fast or slow
2. Where we’re going
3. Why we’re going there
4. When we’re going to be there
5. Who will get out first when we get there
6. What the temperature is outside
7. What season it is
8. Whether the windows should be up or down
9. Why the windows don’t go all the way down in the back
10. Who gets which car seat
11. Who owns the strip of fabric between their car seats
12. Who owns the car
13. Who has more crackers
14. Who’s the louder singer
15. Whether or not it’s sunny out
16. Whose tongue is bigger
17. Who can kick the chair in front of them the hardest
18. Why Daddy is so quiet
Building a Fort with a Five-Year-Old
To help you understand these mysterious creatures even better, I recorded what I believe to be the thought process of an average five-year-old boy over the course of about five minutes around 6:30 P.M. while doing his favorite thing.
1. Umm, what are the cushions doing on the sofa when they could be made into an awesome fort?
2. No, it’s never too late to build a fort. What’s wrong with you?
3. Wait, WHAT are you doing starting with that cushion?
4. DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT FORTS?!???!!
5. Where�
�s Mommy? She knows how to build a fort.
6. No, it’s NOT going to fall down if I put . . .
7. Oops, you were right.
8. This fort is lame. It needs more pillows.
9. No, you go upstairs and get them.
10. I have to pee.
11. Hmm, but what about the fort?
12. Stop asking me if I have to pee! And start helping me build this fort!
13. Okay, I peed. Does that mean you will start understanding how forts work?
14. Oh my God! Did you really just use the back love seat cushion as a wall? Okay, I had no idea what I was dealing with here.
15. Should we start from the beginning? A fort has four walls and . . .
16. NO I’M NOT HUNGRY! I JUST WANT A FORT.
17. You know what question you should ask? “Hey son, how do I build a fort?”
18. Oh good, you used the big cushion for the wall. Somebody’s a good listener.
19. Wait, though, there’s this identical cushion from the other side of the sofa that should go there instead.
20. Umm, because I know more about forts than you, that’s why.
21. You’re right, that shouldn’t be how it is. Unfortunately, I have a dad who knows very little about forts.
22. Okay, I like that.
23. Oh, impressive.
24. VERY NICE!
25. Okay, we need a top.
26. No, not “like a tapestry or something.” I don’t even know what a tapestry is, but there’s no way it’s a decent fort roof.
27. We put the red blanket on top and THEN the tapestry. How is that not obvious?
28. Does that look flat to you? You know saggy fort roofs make me have to pee, right? So . . . why would you do that?
29. Don’t be sad. It’s just a stupid fort.
30. I’m sorry. You’re a good fort builder. Yes, seriously (not).
31. Okay, now it needs a door.
32. Huh? I thought you would know.
33. Oh, good call. Okay, I’m gonna climb in. No, no, it’s fine, trust me.