Once Upon a Time...

One of the most entertaining aspects of parenting is the ability to throw your parental partner in crime under the bus. And this can be done a number of ways. For instance, while changing your toddler's diaper and they mutter under their breath, "I want mommy," don't let that utterance slide! Use that as your opening to make someone else's life a little less pleasant and your life a little bit more. "Honey, he says he only wants you!" is all you'll need to say, and you can safely return to typing out the email to your fantasy football league or whatever pedestrian bullshit you choose (anything beats changing an overflowing shit diaper).

With this theory in mind, I was all set to pawn my older son Antonio off on my poor wife the other night, so I could take a shower and lay my clothes out for the next day (read: eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and Crunch bar from Antonio's trick-or-treat bag in the bathroom so no one judges me). It was about 9:20 PM when Sonia completely turned the tables of misfortune on me. Having just changed him into his pajamas and before I could determine an escape plan, she gives Antonio a hug and announces, quite officially, that "Daddy is going to tell you a bedtime story...about a magic umbrella!" With that, she disappeared behind the safety gate and down the stairs. I stared blankly at Antonio as he showed a glimmer of excitement about the aforementioned story, which I was now being forced to produce in a matter of minutes. Well played, wife.

So, I turned off the lights and tucked him in, hoping he'd forget about what Sonia just suggested. No sooner did I crouch down to kiss his forehead when he said in the cutest voice possible, "Daddy, I want you...tell me story." How the hell could I possibly say no to that? Well, I tried. I offered to read two of his favorite Elmo books. I even tried distracting him by putting on my best teddy bear voice and pretending I was one of his stuffed animals, insisting that "PJ Bear is so tired, he needs you to stop talking so he can sleep." Antonio never falls for that lame shit. Good for him.

When nothing else worked, I knew it was time to suck it up and do my best Peter Falk from Princess Bride impression. Antonio lay in his bed, tucked in and eagerly awaiting a masterpiece. So, I started...

"Once upon a time there was a little boy named....Toby. And Toby had a magic umbrella."

I froze at this point, awkwardly smiling, hoping he accepted this as the whole story and instantly enter REM sleep. He wasn't buying it. "And then what happen?" I knew I was fucked.

"He took his magic umbrella to school with him (at this point, I am struggling for what effective purpose a magic umbrella could have). He was....scared of the bigger kids at school, so he pressed a special button on his magic umbrella and FLOATED TO THE CEILING!"

With this line, I'd jumped fully clothed into the deep end, no turning back now!

"He stayed up there all day and everyone wondered where little Toby went! They were very worried." I had shit for a transition here and I was kinda tired so I just jumped to the end. "Then Toby floated back down to the ground and realized he had nothing to fear at all. He and the bigger children played together and Toby never used that silly magic umbrella again. The end."

I paused for reaction, expecting Antonio to red-pen the shit out of my improvised tale. Then, a smile came over his face, as he uttered, "Say again." That was when I realized that I was a fucking genius. And like most geniuses, I was a slave to my audience. I read that story five times in a row.

Toddlers will forgive a total lack of plot as long as you speak in a soft, soothing voice

Till next time, be strong and stay sane. And as always, share this with others! I'm always happy to hear from readers who can relate to my stories and I'm always inwardly pleased to hear that you've struggled just as much as I have. They say misery loves company. It also likes getting emails!

-Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
My Podcast: www.courtesyflush.podomatic.com
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