A Break and the Hell That Comes With It.

So, work slowed to a grinding halt on Thursday. Sure, there's stuff to do but it came in late and I am over that wave of adrenaline fueled workaholism. So, I'm taking it easy. For starters, I'm taking my daughter to school in the mornings again. This gives us a chance to hang out and it also reminds me that my little girl is, one day, going to grow up and be a pain in the ass like her mother. My daughter is a lot like me. She's sarcastic, she's sharp, she's funny and she's always aware of her surroundings, even when she appears to be sleeping. OK, so I'm not all those things or, I am but not to the same degree that she is. She's so attuned to the things around her that she'd make a great spy. No shit. It's scary. Anyway, we get to hang out in the mornings again and it's usually a lot of fun. To compensate for this, I need to find the alone time with the boy. His school starts at 9 so taking him to school is a bit of a pain for me but I'll do it from time to time. I don't, however, get enough time with him this way so, this past weekend was all about him. Well, Sunday was. Saturday was pumpkin picking.

We schlepped about an hour and a half out of the city to some farm so we could pick pumpkins. My wife is like a kid with these things, she seems to enjoy them more than the kids. So much so that, when the kids picked two small, handpainted pumpkins, she went nuts trying to convince them we need a large pumpkin to carve up. Sure, if we lived in a burbs that might be a good idea. We live in an apartment builing. There's no place for a pumpkin and I'm fairly sure that sticking a candle in the thing would be breaking some kind of fire code and yet she made us get this giant pumpkin. The kids were too scared to make it past the entrance to the haunted house and they were bored to tears on the hay ride. They did like picking apples so, to go with our giant pumpkin, we now have about 1,400 apples in the apartment.

Throughout the day, I walked. Up and down hills and all around the fallen apples. I mention this because the turned ankle I experienced in my now famous vomit slide is, apparently, more than a simple twisted ankle. At least that is what I'm thinking because now, along with the hurt, I've got swelling. Not a lot but a noticeable amount and the ankle definitely hurts more today.

Of course, yesterday didn't help. Yesterday was Droogin's day (not his real name). I took him to the dentist for a cleaning and then we wandered around the city, hitting toy stores and other fun places. The dentist was a first for me. My wife usually takes them but I wanted to spend the day with him so I said I'd do it. He was awesome. For a bit. He showed me the game room, we played video games and hung out while we waited. Then we went into the office and they got us all set for the cleaning. The hygienist managed to clean two teeth and then my boy went berserk. Flailing, screaming, covering his mouth. We stopped and the doctor came in. She tried to calm him down a bit and he let her check for cavities but the cleaning never materialized. We talked a bit about how she didn't want to push it because he usually has no issues there and this might be a one off thing and blah blah blah. So I left. Oh, no, wait, I left after I paid them $125 for the cleaning. That's right, they whacked me for the whole bill.

My boy has 2 shiny $62.50 teeth in his head and I reminded him to smile and show off those two teeth as often as possible.

At the toy store my son convinced me I should by him this construction kit so we could build a rollercoaster for his "men." His "men" are his various super hero figures and other such critters. Being a total fucking idiot, I bought him the rollercoaster. I tried to convince him that we should get something else as this was really meant for 7 year olds but he wanted the coaster and they didn't have any other coaster kits. So, I bought it.

I walked home, pushing him, his giant coaster kit, the things I bought my daughter and the things I bought myself. I walked about 5 miles yesterday, always pushing a stroller with at least 40 pounds in it. Last night the ankle was punishing me for the walk.

Anyway, we get home and all he wants to do is put the coaster together. I open the box and feel the warm ooze as I shit my pants. The coaster is no ordinary construction kit. This fucker is 6 feet tall and has over 150 parts. Most of them are tiny. My son lies down on the floor and says he wants to help me. I think "this might not be so bad" and start opening up the pieces.

After 20 minutes, I've managed to get the first "box" of the frame built and my son is bored. He starts pulling all the parts out, laying the track all over the room, hanging his "men" from the small piece I've already built.

I lost my patience and put the coaster kit away. I tell him I'll work on it after work with him until we finish it but he has to help me.

He says "daddy, it takes a long time to put it together. return it"

Like I can do that now.

I'm trying to control my anger. He's 3, he has no idea how frustrating these things can be.

Then he hugs me and says "I love you daddy" My cold, angry heart melts. I feel a lump in my throat. Then he turns and as he walks away he says "even if you're too stupid to put the coaster together"

I'm about to throw the box at his back when I hear him say "just kidding daddy"

My body is battered and bruised and my fragile psyche has just been crushed by a three year old only to be mocked even further.


Life is good