Yesterday’s post on children and divorce hit a tender nerve for a lot of you, so I feel a few clarifications are in order.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/kJHFaU0lpZ8
Here’s what yesterday’s post WAS NOT:
–A rebuke of single parents. I know a lot of single parents who bust their ass and give their children a lot more love than some of the married couples I’ve met in my day.
–A plea for people in troubled marriages to stay together for the sake of the kids. Actually, as one reader correctly pointed out, it can be more damaging to a child if his/her parents hate each other but stay together anyway. If that’s not a recipe for addiction, abuse and a passing of demons to the next generation, I don’t know what is.
–A suggestion that you’re a lousy parent if you can’t keep your marriage together. It takes two people to make a marriage succeed or fail. And sometimes things beyond your control can damage a marriage. That doesn’t make you a less loving parent. And sometimes, you find someone else to marry who turns out to be the best thing that ever happened to the family. Bottom line: A bad marriage can’t go on. My parents were smart to divorce in 1980. A lot of bad things followed, but things surely would have been worse had they stayed together.
It WAS:
–A reminder that kids pick up on a troubled house immediately and they need constant love and reassurance.
–A big “fuck you” to parents who use their kids as pawns to hurt each other. Doing so just makes you mean, and your child is probably better off without you around.
I mentioned two troubled marriages yesterday, but I have to be honest and tell you that I was particularly fixated on the second case I mentioned.
I also need to admit — again — that I’m only seeing one side of the drama.
But since I’m keeping the names of the players anonymous, I’m just going to roll with the one-sided version of events and say a few things:
1.) It is NEVER, ever OK to tell the other parent you took the child one place for the weekend when you were actually someplace else. It’s one thing if you’re shielding the kid from someone abusive. It’s quite another thing if that parent is not abusive and you’re just doing it to be spiteful. Parents need to know where their kids are at all times because we live in a dangerous world. You lied about a child’s whereabouts, and that makes you a punk. And, contrary to what you may think, it does matter.
2.) When it comes to deciding who gets the child and when, it’s about what’s best for the kid, not you.
3.) Not living at home doesn’t free you of certain responsibilities, like helping to pay the bills. You may not live there anymore, but the kid still does. And like I said, it’s about the child, not you.
If this sounds like a rant that veers too close to a temper tantrum, I make no apologies. The scars from my childhood fueled an adulthood ripped apart by mental illness and addiction.
In the final analysis I made a lot of bad decisions and most of what I’ve been through can’t be blamed on everyone else.
And the difference is that in my case, everyone else did their best, even if some things took a sour turn.
When I see a parent who isn’t trying, I get angry. If a child is dragged through the mud when the parents are trying to do it right, just think of the damage done when the parents aren’t trying.
You’re not trying, my friend. And for now, I wish I had more middle fingers for you than the two God gave me.
When people you know go through a divorce, much is made over who gets what and who loses what. The ex-wife gets the house. The ex-husband gets full custody of the kids. But here’s a constant that’s most upsetting: The kids almost always get the shaft.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/gvkvJo2VRJc
Parents don’t usually mean for this to happen. They start out determined to shower the children with love and shield them from the ugly stuff as much as possible.
Then, as the proceedings drag on, the parents look for ways to hurt each other. What better way to do that than by using the children as pawns?
They got joint custody. We stayed with Dad during the week and Mom on weekends. In the summers that arrangement was reversed. Dad got the house.
As the years went on, my mother grew increasingly bitter toward my father. This is understandable to a point. Her oldest son died. How can a parent be expected to think clearly when that happens? But she blamed my father. Actually, she blamed my stepmother: some baseless bullshit about my step-mother not inserting the adrenaline needle properly during my brother’s final and fatal asthma attack.
After that, if my father stared at her the wrong way, she threatened to get full custody from him. She did this on a weekly basis. I don’t think it hurt my father as intended. He held all the legal cards. But it sure as hell hurt me. I would constantly worry about never seeing my father again.
Looking in the rear-view mirror as an adult, I hold no bitterness about it. Not anymore, anyway. I realized I would never move on until I forgave them. We all fail. I have too many times to count. I also realize she was just venting most of the time.
But when I see kids caught in the middle of a marriage in trouble today, I always return to the scars of childhood, real and imagined (when you’re a kid you imagine things, and if you grow up to be a head case like me, you REALLY imagine things).
I bring all this up because I know of a couple troubled marriages right now where children are involved.
In one case the parents are working hard to be honest with the kids and make sure they know they are loved. I don’t know what will happen to that marriage in the end, but I give the parents credit for trying to keep the emotional scars off their kids. If the marriage fails scarring will be inevitable. But the parents can do a lot to soften the blow.
Then there’s the other case. One parents tries to hurt the other by deciding not to babysit when scheduled. Of course, in this case it’s not babysitting. It’s parenting.
Then one parent has the child for the weekend and lies to the other about where they’ve been.
It’s not for me to get into who is right or wrong. I’m biased because I’m only getting one side of the story.
All I know is that it makes me sad. I can only pray that this child escapes with as little damage as possible.
Nobody likes it when someone’s marriage hits the wall. And when lawyers are brought in, you can expect ugliness to ensue because the lawyer’s job is to make sure his or her client wins.
Of course, in these situations, nobody wins. Some marriages need to end because it happened for the wrong reasons to start with or there was abuse. And sometimes people just change and what happens happens.
I just hope the kids make out OK at the other end of these dramas.
This was a tough weekend in the world of parenthood. Duncan was pretty manic. We expected this, because he suffers over the season’s lack of daylight just like his old man.
I’m constantly worried about the kids inheriting my genetic disposition toward mental disorder. I feel like Duncan’s mood swings are my fault, though I know it’s not that simple or even fair. All I know is that his mood swings rival my own. We’re getting him evaluated, and in the end things will be fine. He’s lucky because I’ve accumulated coping skills I can pass along to him when he’s old enough to grasp them.
For now I just have to be patient — something I suck at — and remember during his meltdowns that getting angry is hypocritical on my part.
Fortunately, Duncan helps me out, as does Sean, and, this weekend their cousin Madison. She slept over Saturday night and in between the various meltdowns, the three children let loose with a lot of witty words that lifted my spirits. In fact, they gave me enough material for a part 3 in my “kids say the darndest things” series.
You can read part 1 of the series here and part 2 here. I think you’ll walk away feeling that life isn’t so tough when you’ve seen it from a child’s perspective.
For part 3, my 2-year-old niece proves that she has the family comedy gene.
“You’re a stupid old shoe everyone steps on cause it’s ugly.” — Duncan’s attempted crusher on his dad (He was angry because I got Sean some gum and he was feeling left out. In hindsight, I can’t say I blame him.)
“Wow! It really does bounce off butt cheeks.” — Sean, after throwing a glowing eyeball he got at the Museum of Science at Duncan’s behind. Duncan didn’t notice a thing.
“Geez, Dad. Can’t you help a guy out and lighten the mood a little?” –Sean, enraged that I made him put on his winter coat on a morning where the outside temperature was 10 degrees.
“My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated. My PINK balloon deflated….” Madison, the niece, lamenting that the pink balloon she got at a birthday party the day before had deflated.
“My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone. My pillow pet came undone…” The niece, once again pissed off because her pillow pet unfolded on her.
“Proof the niece is a Corthell girl: She hasn’t stopped talking since she woke up.” Me, marveling over the niece’s verbal command. She got up at 5:45 a.m. with the boys and I made this observation sometime around 8 a.m.
“The niece has decided she wants to watch Calliou. Shoot me.” Me, after the niece demands that I put that wretched PBS cartoon on the TV. Erin says I’m too hard on Calliou and that he’s perfectly fine for Madison’s age group. Perhaps she’s right. I just can’t get past the narration from the actress who played Nurse Ratched in “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.” That same actress played an evil Bajoran in “Star Trek: Deep Space Nine” so I guess I take offense that she has the gall to tell me what the bald little punk is thinking and feeling.
“Duncan, knock it off,” the niece, trying to buck up Cousin Duncan during one of his unhappier moments.
“And we’ll be eaten by a giant clam,” the chorus to a song Duncan keeps singing. I think he made the whole thing up.
There’s a thing going on this weekend on Facebook where people are changing their profile pics to a 70s cartoon of their choice to raise awareness against child abuse. It’s an admirable thing, but there’s also a downside.
I was a big fan of Super Friends, too. I watched it mainly because I was a big Superman fan. I never liked the Wonder Twins, though. I always wanted them to die horrible, gory deaths.
I wasn’t all there when I was a kid. Come to think of it, I’m not all there now.
So this campaign is all about child abuse awareness. Here’s what people are posting on their walls:
All children deserve happy childhood memories, RAISE AWARENESS: Change your FB picture to a cartoon from your childhood. The goal? To not see a human face on facebook until Monday the 6th of Dec. Join the fight against child abuse, and invite your friends to do the same.
It raised my awareness, all right. In the 70s and 80s, I saw plenty of child abuse in my house. Not from my father or step-parents, but from my mother. She had a hard life so I don’t hold it against her. I forgave her long ago. But the memories still suck. My sister got it the worst. Between that, a bitter divorce, illness and death, I don’t exactly consider that period a happy childhood.
To me, the happy memories are being made right now.
But I’m going to go along with the childhood cartoon thing anyway. Billy Joel once sang that “the good old days weren’t always good and tomorrow aint as bad as it seems.”
As a kid I used to think my parents lived in a world that looked a lot like that movie “Pleasantville.” Everything was clean and pretty. Nobody fought. Every day was Christmas.
I know that wasn’t true for my mother. My father tells me the 50s and 60s kind of sucked for him. He was overweight and kids made fun of him.
But that didn’t stop me from wanting to live in their past. Surely, it had to be better than the present I was living.
A lot of kids probably look at the 70s and 80s the same way.
So, if putting up pictures from old cartoons is going to make them happy, I’ll do my part.
When I first became a parent, I’m pretty sure I sucked at it. I had no patience for the things babies do because, back then, it was all about me. That’s how it is when you have OCD and out-of-control addictions. You’re too self absorbed to see the blessings around you. But my wife and kids helped me break the cycle.
That’s the thing about children. When God puts them in your care, the only way to succeed is to surrender the “it’s all about me” attitude. Many fail. Some succeed. In the beginning, I worried that I’d fail. Nearly a decade later, I guess the jury is still out.
This much I know: Sean and Duncan have taught me a lot about life.
This collection of posts is about my kids. Hopefully, the writing adequately expresses what they mean to me.
When life gets you down and you feel like shutting out the world, a child’s perspective will always give you a mental boost. That’s what Sean and Duncanhave taught me.
Sean and Duncan continue to give me a fresh perspective on a world that can be full of trouble. Life getting you down? Feel like shutting out the world? Read this instead.
My 7-year-old son is raising a few eyebrows in church and school because his favorite color is pink. Apparently, it’s only OK for girls to like this color. Right off the bat I’m annoyed, because girls don’t get the same crap for wearing a so-called boy’s color like blue.
The author remembers a time when fear of loss would cripple his mental capacities, and explains how he got over it — mostly. Also, how Sean and Duncan helped.
Duncan is raising a few eyebrows in church and school because his favorite color is pink. Apparently, it’s only OK for girls to like this color. Right off the bat I’m annoyed, because girls don’t get the same crap for wearing a so-called boy’s color like blue.
Duncan has a pink winter hat and a pink knitted coin pouch. When a priest saw him wearing the hat last year, a look of concern came over him. “Well, I guess there’s still time,” he said.
This past Sunday, Duncan showed the school principal his coin pouch. “That’s an interesting color,” she said.
By the way, that pouch was stuffed with coins Duncan couldn’t wait to put in the poor box.
I once asked Duncan why pink is his favorite color. His answer: “Because girls like pink. And I like girls.” Innocent words from a 7-year-old boy.
Here’s why I’m getting pissed off at people for making a big deal out of what I think is nothing:
This is how you start a child down the path of social anxiety, pain and dysfunction. You take something as innocent as a color choice and start suggesting there’s something wrong with him. The implication is that, because it’s a so-called girl’s color, he’s going to be gay when he grows up.
When I was a kid, I got hassled over the more old-fashioned stuff, like being overweight. I also kept believing in Santa Clause longer than the other kids my age. Being fat meant being damaged, unworthy of the same respect everyone else got. In high school, I used to watch teachers belittle students who dressed like hippes. The kids were drug-injecting wastoids as far as some of the teachers were concerned. I knew some who were, but I knew others who were not.
Make a kid feel stupid over how they look or what they wear and after awhile they’re probably going to start believing they are damaged goods.
I’m not going to let that happen to my kids without a fight.
Duncan can like whatever color he wants to like. If you have a problem with that, you can come talk to the boy’s ugly, still overweight Dad.
I’ll probably tell you you’re being shallow and judgemental. You’ve been warned.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how schools tend to deal with kids who are different. Kids like the one I used to be.
The school we send our kids to, a private Parochial school, is wonderful on many levels. My favorite thing about it is the other families who send their kids there. Many people who have become dear friends. Most importantly, the kids are getting a daily dose of God there, which is something Erin and I care deeply about.
But I see something there that bothers me. It’s something that’s a problem in a lot of schools.
It’s the sports mentality. The idea that the ONLY way to measure a kid’s potential is by how he or she does in sports.
My children are not much into sports. Both are more focused on art, science (especially Sean) and music (Duncan’s passion). Some might call that different. And because sports is such a huge deal in their school, I don’t think their talents are being put to the test as they should be.
Last year, Erin pitched the idea of a “Mad Scientist” program for kids who love science. The program would cost the school nothing and the principal expressed interest. Then it went nowhere. Kids like Sean lose out on this one.
But the sports. Oh, how the school loves its sports. The teams win big. And that is encouraged at all costs, even if it means only a quarter of the kids on a team get to play while those who “aren’t good enough” spend all their time on the bench. The goal is to win. If you’re not good enough to make that happen, you take a seat. Not the best way to challenge kids to reach their full potential, even if their potential doesn’t look like much to judgmental, competitive eyes.
This isn’t just a problem where my kids go to school. Everywhere you look, it’s all about the sports. The football team. The softball team. The hockey team. The basketball team.
Sure, sports are important. Sports bring out the best in many children, and can be as important an outlet for troubled kids as music, art and writing was and still is for me.
If a kid doesn’t want to do sports, so what?
If a boy likes the color pink, so what?
God made all colors for everyone to embrace, not just some for the boys and some for the girls.
This weekend a friend asked if I worry about passing the “crazies” on to my children. The answer: Every day. But here’s why I don’t despair about it like I used to.
Sean has more than a few OCD characteristics. When the boy gets into something, be it a computer game or Legos — especially Legos — he goes in deep and lets the activity consume him. In other words, he approaches these things compulsively.
Duncan, like me, gets a bit crazy when the daylight recedes. His mood will swing all over the place and he has the most trouble in school during winter time. To help remedy this, Erin recently bought me and Duncan happy lamps — essentially sunshine in a box. Despite the skepticism Duncan and I shared over it, the things actually seem to be working.
There are no certainties in life except that we all die eventually. I can’t say Sean and Duncan will never know depression or addiction. A parent can put everything they have into raising their children right.
But sometimes, despite that, fate can get in the way of all your hard work.
It’s not worth worrying about those unknowns, though, because you can’t do anything about it. All I can do is my best to give them the tools I didn’t have at their age and pray for the best.
One reason I don’t worry as much as I used to about these things: Sean and Duncan are much smarter than their old man was at their age.
So Duncan is in quite a mood this afternoon. He’s easily set off, keeps rubbing his eyes and alternates between fits of laughter and just plain fits. No mystery here. The boy is suffering from way too much sugar in the form of Halloween candy.
He’s also wiped out from going to bed too late and getting up too early.
It’s no big deal. As parents we expect this from kids who have had too much candy. We’ll put him to bed early, and his eating will return to the healthy sort we’re always vigilant about.
But seeing him like this reminds me of how I used to be before I found the 12 Steps of Recovery for a binge-eating addiction. I looked at him and had a “this reminds me of a little joke” moment.
Sean and Duncan continue to give me a fresh perspective on a world that can be full of trouble. Life getting you down? Feel like shutting out the world? Read this instead.
–Duncan, watching a rack of CDs fall on a girl in the bookstore (the kid was freaked out): “I hope those CDs don’t get a scratch in them.”
–Duncan: “Sean, I’m younger and smaller than you, but I’m also stronger than you.” He failed to lift the Lego draw at the heart of his boast.
–Overheard: Sean: “Pee and Poo are not swear words and are ok to use.” Duncan: “Then why can’t we say crap?” Sean: “Because it’s not appropriate.”
–Sean tells Duncan a joke that uses the words poop and fart. Duncan responds: “That’s absolutely disgusting and innapropriate. But I like it.”
–Duncan: “The people who created lightsabers are morons. This thing (a Tinker-Toy contraption he made) is much better.” Seconds later, the Tinker-Toy weapon falls apart.
–I have a ZZTop concert streaming on the laptop while I work. Sean takes a look and asks if the guitar player is “that @jack_Daniel guy.” (Jack is a heavyweight in the security industry who looks a lot like Billy Gibbons from ZZTop)
–Duncan’s calling Sean H1N1. Sean’s taking it better than Duncan did when Sean was calling him Cupcake.
–Duncan’s calling Sean H1N1. Sean’s taking it better than Duncan did when Sean was calling him Cupcake.
–Sean to Duncan: “Liar liar pants on fire.” Duncan: “That’s stupid Sean. My pants are not on fire.”
–I threaten to smack Duncan in the butt (I’d never follow through). His response: “You don’t want to. You don’t know where this butt’s been.”
–Sean’s Lament: “My workbook project calls for a mural about compassion. Much to my dismay, it makes me want to barf.”
–Duncan kicked Sean for making up a “stupid” song about him. Sean threatened to sue him, forgetting that Duncan just blew all his money on Legos.
–Duncan, in full tattle mode: “Sean threatened to punch me out if I talk during the car ride. Now go punish him.”
–Discovered the password Duncan uses for his online “Poptropica” game is “Farts of Doom.”
–Sean just proclaimed that my iced coffee looks like cow manure with ice cubes on top.
–Said Sean, matter-of-fact-like: “If you don’t want your butt to get burned, don’t live in a frying pan.”
–Sean: “One of the things I really love about Gramma and Grandpa is that they’re so disorganized.”
–Sean just kicked my ass at 3 games of checkers. Now he’s trash-talking me. My revenge will come later, and it will be spectacular.
–Duncan: “I’m always thinking about something, Dad.” With a grin, he adds, “or … should I say … someone.” The boy has a crush. Again.
–Words spotted on Sean and Duncan’s Scrabble board: “smelly” “butt” “fart” “bigbelly” “vomit” “puke” …
–Sean-Duncan playing Greek gods with costumes they made from paper /tinkertoys. They made me a tinker-toy crown that puts dents in my scalp.
–Duncan, realizing he’s going to bed earlier than Sean: “Being younger is crap.”
–According to Sean there are two worlds: Duncan’s world and the real world. According to Duncan, “Sean’s talking stupid again.”
–Wow. It only took Sean till 7:30 to bellow his daily lament of “This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have a brother.”
–Duncan-ism of the day: “Saying ‘please’ before ‘shut up’ just sounds weird.”
–The kids are very proud that they got their granddad to spent 12 bucks on refreshments at the movie theater. They asked me to tell y’all.
–Sean and Duncan saw “Marmaduke” with their granddad. Duncan loved it. Sean’s verdict: “I’m more of a PG kinda guy.”
–Sean-ism of the day: “Thank God for Dunkin Donuts. There’s always one along the road when you really need to use the bathroom.”
–Duncan, on why he was peeing in the dark: “I kept the light off so I wouldn’t wake Mom.” Note: His Mom is upstairs and he is downstairs.
–As Duncan IDs presidents on his coins, I ask: “Isn’t it great you saw THE Oval Office?” Duncan: “Yeah. It’s also cool I have 19 cents.”
–Bad Sean joke #452 … Sean:”Why did the cop wrap the crook in tinfoil?” Me: “I dunno. Why?” Sean: “Because he wanted to foil the crime.”
–Heard in the other room: Duncan singing, “I am the ice cream man, I keep Twinkies in my pants, when I ring the bell, all the fat guys run and yell…”
–Duncan says he’s the smartest kid in his class because he knows what 8X8 is. Asked to give the answer, he said confidently: 24
–Duncan’s first words to me as I arrive home from NYC: “I missed you, Dad. But I didn’t miss you making my lunches for school.”
–Sean: “I’m looking forward to seeing the White House tonight. Good food there.” Me: “We’re there for a tour, not dinner.” Sean: “Oh well.”
–Sez Sean, because I didn’t look at his computer game fast enough: “C’mon Dad, what’s more important, your son or your Blackberry?”
–Just caught Duncan singing these lyrics: “Hey, you, my name is Bob. I’ll eat all your corn on the cob…”
–Sean, fighting with Duncan: “My life was pretty good till you came along.”
–Sean to Duncan: “You’re really cute for a pest.” Duncan: “Pests are never cute, dummy.”
–Saturday morning: I’m on one laptop, Sean’s on another and Duncan has his DS. It used to be the 3 of us watched PBS kids Sat. mornings.
–Sean scolded me for killing an ant cause “They’re God’s creatures.” Then he found one on his Lego sets, and now he wants all ants dead.
–Sean’s description of Duncan’s breath: “Like a cat climbed in your mouth, peed, pooped and died.” His breath was just as bad.
–Sean: “When someone says ‘you shouldn’t have’ it’s another way to say thank you.” Duncan: “I thought it meant ‘what were you thinking?'”
–Duncan: “Zeus is evil.” Sean: “Nah, he aint evil. He’s just in a bad mood all the time.”
–Sean hasn’t stopped laughing since I told him Bun Bun — the Whites’ dwarf hamster — got caught in Sam’s closet and crapped everywhere.
–After I told Duncan he was a goof: “Of course I am. I’m Duncan!”
–Proof Duncan’s my kid: He grabbed the pepper shaker and poured pepper on his toungue. Proof Sean’s my kid: Buries face in book at the table.
–Overheard from the LR: Sean telling Duncan: “I thinks it’s funny because it’s a little inappropriate.” Better see what he’s talking about…
–Turns out that “inappropriate” thing Sean said makes him laugh is anything with the word “crap” in it.
–Duncan is making Sean furious by constantly calling him Shawny-Sean. Dad is doing nothing to stop it.
–Quote from Duncan, who is holding up a Lego Darth Vader: “Luke — I am your father. Now go wipe the table and sweep the floor.”
–Duncan, to an elderly man sitting in his van smoking a cigarette in the parking lot of Toys R Us: “Smoking’s dumb, you know. It puts holes in your lungs. Also, you forgot to close the back door of your van.”
Duncan and Sean knock a friend on his ass with their razor-sharp toungues
When life gets you down and you feel like shutting out the world, a child’s perspective will always give you a mental boost. That’s what Sean and Duncan have taught me.
They also know how to trigger my OCD-isms, but I’ve covered that already. This post is all about their spirit-lifting wisdom. (Guest appearance by their cousin Madison.)
–Heard in the bathroom: Sean singing to no one in particular, “Your butt’s too big to be real…”
–Me: “I missed you Sean. I love you.” Sean, staring intently at the drawing he’s working on as I tell him this: “Dad, go get me a pencil”
–Sean, grousing about his loose pants: “This is ridiculous. If Eve didn’t eat that stupid apple, I wouldn’t have to worry about pants!”
–Duncan on the passing of Father Nason: “It’s really sad for us, but it’s really good for him, cause now he can have fun.”
–Sean, unhappy that I’m making him and Duncan pick up their toys, has declared me “pure evil.” Accoring to Duncan, I’m just being stupid.
–Duncan finally gets it! He told Sean: “You don’t get to boss me around. Only Dad gets to boss me around, so take that!”
–One of Sean and Duncan’s friends, wowed that Sean has read the first 3 Harry Potter books, has named him “The Manly King of Reading.”
–Sean: “Dad, are you working or fooling around?” Me: “Working.” Sean, looking at my screen: “Working on Facebook and Tweetdeck? I don’t think so.”
–Me: “You’re a good kid, Duncan. I’m proud of you.” Duncan’s response: *rolls eyes* “Go away, Dad. You’re spoiling my fun.”
–Sean, explaining The Prodigal Son to Duncan: “If there were a third brother, he would have just sat there chilling out, taking it all in.”
–Casually uttered from the mouth of Duncan as he walks by, strumming his severely out-of-tune guitar: “Nobody puts Baby on the shelf…”
–Sean-ism of the morning: I learned Australian in second grade. It’s my second language.
–Sean-ism of the morning: “I learned Australian in second grade. It’s my second language.”
–Sean, exasperated that Duncan is running around sans pants: “For Pete’s sake, Duncan! You’re a lot of work.”
–Sept. 23, 2010: I feel a strange sense of satisfaction for a Dad who was just informed by his oldest that “You are ruining my life.”
–Sean asks Cousin Madison: “Who’s your favorite cousin?” Madison, without hesitation: “Duncan!”
–Sept. 17, 2010: Madison, who slept over last night, thinks it’s hilarious when Uncle Bill burps. In other news, Duncan is teaching her his “Big Butt” song.
–Sept. 10, 2010: Sean says I’m too bossy. Since I’m feeling blah, I think I’ll go make myself feel better by bossing him around some more.
–3 days into the school year, Sean announces that he has 4th grade “licked.” Boy is he in for a reality check.
–Sean: “Babies come out the you-know-what” Duncan: “Gross. Why’s that?” Sean: “That’s just the way life works.”
–Me to Madison, the 2-year-old niece: “You’re so stinkin’ cute.” The niece: “Yes. I am.”
–Sean wants to study “Australian as a second language.”
–Meanwhile, Duncan likes the British because instead of missile, they say “Mis-Isle”
–Duncan, puzzled to learn that Darth Vader killed the Emperor in “Return of the Jedi”: “Where does he get off killing his own boss?”
–Duncan, catching me with my shirt off: “Really, Dad. Do you have to be such an ape?”
–Duncan, upon learning he’ll be an attendence monitor in class: “Wow, that’s great! And I don’t even know what an attendence monitor is.”
–Sean, in response to me telling him and Duncan to do a chore: “Dad, if you’re trying to annoy us, it’s not working.”
–Me to Sean: “You’re so stinkin’ cute.” Sean to me: “You’re so stinkin’ ugly. No offense.”
–Sean, noticing the Greek Orthodox church we were driving past: “Gee Whiz! I didn’t even know Greek Mythology was still around!”
–Me: “I know, kids, you can fold laundry for my birthday!” Sean: “We’ll do anything for you today. Pause. Sean: So, you’re not joking, are you?”
–Duncan pounced on me, pounded his elbow into my spine and kissed my bald head, telling me he just gave me a “love ambush.”
–Duncan pounced on me, pounded his elbow into my spine and kissed my bald head, telling me he just gave me a “love ambush.”
–Sean, trying to coach Duncan through a Star Wars game online: “Oh, for crying out loud Duncan… USE THE FORCE! USE THE FORCE!”
–The Sean-Duncan Star Wars feud takes a dark, stinky turn: Duncan says Sean keeps calling him Sen. Poopatine and he wants me to punish him.
–Heard from the boys’ bedroom: Sean and Duncan chanting “My head, my butt, my head, my butt…”
–Bathtub chatter: Sean: “Cheese is your favorite food, right Duncan?” Duncan: “Of course.” Sean: “I read they’re gonna stop making it soon.”
–Sean’s take on his grandfather (my father): “I’ll tell you what, Duncan. There is nothing we can’t get him to do.”
–Duncan: “I fell on my butt. Can somebody kiss it?” Me: “I don’t kiss butts. Go ask your mother.”
–Sean, growing impatient with the DC-to-Boston drive: “What state are we in besides a state of confusion?”
–Sean: “Can I have more computer time?” Me: “No.” Sean: “Wow. That was unexpected.”
–Duncan wants you all to know that my jokes are not funny. They are, however, “annoying and stupid.” So I’m telling him some more.
–Aug. 4, 2010: Sean & Duncan are cleaning up the loft because they forgot all about my threat to give ’em chores whenever they complained of being bored.
