Thursday, December 3, 2009

She Drops F Bombs...

As parents, we often struggle to understand our kids. We are always seeking that elusive connection. We want to know what they are thinking. We want to feel what they are feeling. Most of all, we want our kids to know that we get it; that they can talk to us.

But it’s hard.

They are just kids.

These things take time.

Through time, we gain experience.

With experience, comes wisdom.

But remember…

We are all cut from the same cloth. Most of the time, you won’t need to look for a “connection” with your kids. The connection, almost always finds you…

Sunday evening after dinner…

Out-Numbered – “Let’s go buddy. Bring your plate into the kitchen.”

7 Yr Old – “After my show.”

Out-Numbered – “Dude. Let’s go. I’d like to get this kitchen cleaned up, so I can relax.”

7 Yr Old – “When my show is over!”

Out-Numbered – “If you don’t get you butt off of that couch, right now, there’s not gonna be anymore show to watch.”

7 Yr Old – “It’s not my yob.”

Out-Numbered – “Excuse me?”

7 Yr Old – “IT’S NOT MY YOB!”

Out-Numbered – “You’re not even doing the accent.”

7 Yr Old – “What?”

Out-Numbered – “The accent. What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense, unless you do the accent.”

7 Yr Old – “Leave me alone.”

My wife is snickering at me.

Wife – “You’re doing great.”

Out-Numbered – “Shut up.”

Out-Numbered – “You have until the count of three to get in here.”

7 Yr Old – “ONE MINUTE!”

Out-Numbered – “One…”


Out-Numbered – “TWO…”

7 Yr Old – “Ugh. Fuck!”

My wife and I look at each other.

Out-Numbered – “What did you just say?”

7 Yr Old – “FUCK!”

Looking at my wife for help.

Out-Numbered – “Can you take this one?”

Wife – “Nope.”

Out-Numbered – “OK.”

Check please…

There you have it. We finally connected. They grow up so fast.

Why am I always Out-Numbered by fucking dishes?

Fatherhood Friday at Dad Blogs