middle-finger-poster-flag-6185-pI’m pretty much only posting because the thought of going three days without putting anything on the site gives me hives.  I don’t really have a ton to talk about, or at least I don’t have a ton of stuff I want to talk about.  I’ve spent most of the last couple of days wanting to punch the internet in the face because the internet is stupid and the people on the internet are stupid.  I’ve been protecting my sanity by unfollowing a ton of both-sidesers lately regardless of whether I think they’re generally entertaining when they’re not being both-sidesers.  I don’t have the patience for it any fucking longer, sorry.

On TV just now, Gordon Ramsay pronounced “guacamole” as “wocka-moll,” and now I want to punch him too because British or not that’s just not right.

Anyway.  An example: The world’s gotten stupid enough that I came very close to wading into a parenting argument on Twitter earlier today.  I won’t link to anything because I was too disgusted to make it through the video, but there’s a video floating around of a little kid cutting up in a restaurant.  He’s, I dunno, five, and he’s telling everyone to go fuck themselves and calling his mother and grandmother bitches and apparently at a few points he’s actually yelling Crip slogans.  There are motherfuckers who are sincerely suggesting that what this kid needs is more violence in his life because apparently Mom and Grandma don’t beat him enough.  How fucked up do you have to be to watch a kid that obviously damaged by violence and suggest that beatings are the way to help him?

I just can’t with any of it right now, sorry.



The boy is in kindergarten, y’all.  Or at least he will be, once summer vacation is over.


In which daddery is exhausting

KK6nJcE.jpgSo, my kid.  Three days a week I work from nine in the morning until eight at night, meaning that I really only see him when I’m getting him up and ready for school in the morning (which is all hustle, hustle, hustle, especially since in all honesty I’m not great at getting myself up on time) and for a few minutes at night before he goes to bed.  My wife has given up on getting him to sleep before I get home so his bedtime has been adjusted so that I can see him and give him his daily allotment of hugs before he goes to sleep.

My son is fond of rituals.  He is also fond of complicating things.  To wit, each night he chooses several (as many as he can get away with) of the following hugs.  Understand that this is probably an incomplete list, as I’m tired:

  • JUMP HUG: He jumps three times.  On the third jump, I catch him and lift him high enough to touch the ceiling, then hug him on the way down.
  • CRASH HUG:  He runs toward me on his bed, but doesn’t jump toward me.  I’m just expected to grab him before he falls off the bed and hug him.  He generally tries to do this head down, battering-ram style, and about half the time he manages to hurt me.
  • CRUSH HUG: He lays prone on his bed.  I’m supposed to lean over him and hug him.  He insists that I’m crushing him as this happens.  Occasionally this also involves attempting to eat his ears, nose, or chin.
  • DROP HUG:  I pick him up and give him a bunch of kisses on his forehead and cheeks, then abruptly drop him onto his bed without warning him first.
  • TICKLE HUG: Like the drop hug at first, only I only drop his upper body, holding onto his legs, then tickle him.
  • REVERSE TICKLE HUG:  Like the tickle hug, only I make sure he’s facefirst on the bed so I can tickle his back instead of his stomach.
  • NORMAL HUG:  As one might expect.  I insist on one of these each night.
  • BOOMERANG HUG:  Starts off like a crash hug, only I swing him around several times back and forth before putting him down.
  • BATARANG HUG:  Differs from a boomerang hug in a way that only he understands.  Sometimes I get it right and sometimes he informs me that I just gave him a boomerang hug and I have to do it over.  I think he’s fucking with me, honestly.

Lately he has been attempting to add “moves” to the bedtime ritual, which are a result of him reading Teen Titans GO!: Burger Versus Burrito too many fucking times.  What that means is that I’m supposed to yell “Sleepy Smash!” or “Bedtime Bounce!” or “Nighttime Knockdown!” or whateverthefuck and try and put him to bed or tuck him in or whatever.  It’s exhausting, especially since he wants me to come up with new “moves” all the time, and I’m not that damn creative at 9:00 in the damn evening after an 11-hour shift, and I’m trying to nip this one in the bud before it becomes any more of a monster than it is.

It may be time to start reading Go the Fuck to Sleep to him at night.  We have a copy around here somewhere, after all.

Just to make sure we’re clear…

…this is what a chimpanzee can do to a small creature that it finds in its enclosure and doesn’t want there.  I suspect there is not much weight difference between a toddler and a large raccoon.  There is, however, an enormous difference between the strength level of a chimpanzee and a silverback gorilla:


I just figured, judging from the chatter I’ve seen on the internet today, that this might be a useful thing to think about.


0b6622fce10fd4eb2d2d03ed66c87c74.400x254x1.pngI’m not convinced this is actually a terribly important or interesting insight for anybody other than me, but it’s been on my mind for the last couple of days and I wanted to get it written down before it slipped away.

My son is four.  He’s in preschool now– real preschool, which means that I can’t just go get him if I’m home and bored in the afternoon any longer, which hit me the other day while I was heading to the car to do just that.  There are, I don’t know, eleven or twelve other kids in his class, something like that.

He has four friends.  Now, at his age, “friendship” is obviously a really fungible concept, but there are two kids from his previous day care who are still showing up at our house (and vice versa) every once in a while and there are two kids in his preschool class who he seems to be part of a mutual admiration society with more so than the rest of the kids.  That’s not to say that he doesn’t play with the others, of course, but these kids clearly are getting more attention than the others.  And, interestingly, they give me more attention than the others, too.  I’ve been dropping the boy off lately, and generally walk with him to his classroom, and one of the kids has been insisting that he also gets a hug before I can leave.  The other one seems to be more of a priority during the after-school program despite being in his class, but she too insists on me paying attention to her a lot of the time before I am allowed to take her (him!  Him! Christ, I’m only getting my own kid.) home– either that or he’ll drag me over to her to have her tell me something about their day.

1433504206201518479.jpgWhat’s gotten into my head is that he’s at least in theory at the point where he might know some of these kids for a very, very long time.  Now, I’m not friends any longer with anyone who I knew as far back as nursery school, but I was through college or so, and my oldest friends now are people I met in middle school or late elementary.  But part of the deal at Hogwarts is keeping their clan together– I get the feeling that a lot of the kids that eventually transition out of there are graduating, meaning that they’ve been with mostly the same kids for a bunch of years.  So it’s possible that he’ll be forming lifelong friendships earlier than I did, especially if we’re able to afford to keep him at this school. I have– most people do, I imagine– my own relationships with the parents of some of my friends who I’ve known for a really long time.  And it’s interesting that we’ve gotten to the point with him where I can look around at the kids he knows and go “Which ones am I going to have to buy high school graduation cards for?”

In, like, 2030 or whatever.

Nah.  No way I live that long.  Never mind.