Shit My Son Does that Makes No Sense

No one ever said that kids are logical. And if anyone did say it, they're a lying imbecile. My two-year-old son, Antonio is a pants-shitting enigma. Just when you think you've figured out every nuance of his quirky personality, he changes the game and bites you. No, really, he bites you. Here are just a few examples of why, when it comes to parenting, we're left with more questions than answers.

A random list of shit my two-year-old son Antonio does that confuses the hell out of me:

* You'll go with him to the grocery store. You'll stand in the deli line and the perpetually miserable clerk/butcher will give a half-hearted grin while handing your son a sample piece of cheese. Your son will ride standing up in the carriage and have a general blast. Of course, when you bring this up at dinner later that night, he will vehemently deny any of that shit happened. He's like a mini Alzheimer's patient.

* When we turn on the TV, or hell, even open the cabinet, and ask what his preference is, he'll say "You pick." The first time I heard this, I thought, "Fantastic! If only my wife would say those words while picking out a movie to watch!" But I soon realized that this "you pick" option held as much validity as the Bermuda cruise I just won by clicking on an Internet ad. No sooner do I make my selection when he's squawking that he wants me to change it. He's finally satisfied, however, when I get to the show he originally wanted to begin with. I just have to be lucky enough to guess right the first time.

* He refuses to believe that the leafy green stuff is actually called lettuce. It's called "salad!" and this will be shouted with great conviction until I agree with him. He'll make a good lawyer, but he'll almost always be in contempt of court.

As long as he's eating it, is it worth mentioning to my kid that what he's eating isn't chicken?

* He gets all excited to see his neighborhood friend Anthony. Then, when we finally see him, he acts like we're at Home Depot, reviewing paint swatches. He incidentally did the same thing when he saw Santa. It's a big joygasm while we're literally 10 feet away, but within arm's length? Take away smile, insert awkward, blank stare.

* He insists he's ready to wear "big boy underpants." Then, literally the second I put them on him he pees in them.

* Whenever he doesn't want to eat dinner, he purses his lips angrily and mutters, "I don't want cauliflower!" Ummm, Antonio, that's a chicken nugget. Clearly, he's inherited my vision.

* When we go anywhere as a family, he takes his backpack and throws a crazy assortment of random, unrelated items inside- his shoes, a stuffed animal, a Christmas tree ornament, a lemon, one sock. He's like a portable lost-and-found.

* He gets insanely pissed if I touch his face, yet he colors and puts band aids, stickers and stamps on it. I guess his face, his rules? I can only pray that he doesn't grow to idolize Mike Tyson.

* This isn't all that illogical, but I find it funny. For the past five days, whenever Antonio wakes up from his nap, he rubs his eyes, looks around and curiously asks, "Is it Christmastime?" You bet your ass it is, son!


Somehow, a boatload of people read my last Santa blog. Me likey! Keep passing this onto your friends and I will continue to open my personal life to the public. Deal? Deal. And for those serious readers out there, my book will soon be available on e-readers! More info to come.

Happy holidays,

Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
Buy my book at http://amzn.to/v2pZE2

Santa Claus is Comin' to Town...Unless You're a Jerk

Forrest Gump once said that "it's funny how some things you remember and some things you don't." I bring this up for two reasons. For one, it effectively ties into the point of this story. And two, Forrest was always quoting his mom. I figure it's about time someone credited him with one. So anyway, the moment I'll always remember is the first time I was introduced to the folkloric fatso himself, Santa Claus. I was about four and was told by my father that we were going to his office for "Bring your kids to work day." The idea already sounded dreadful to me. I much preferred "Bring your kids some undeserved new toys because I feel guilty for that week-long business trip day." But when I was bamboozled by the truth in that Santa himself would be in attendance, I momentarily wished that my father had been unemployed (looking back at the bike I got that year, I'm now glad he wasn't).

So, leading up to this grandiose meeting...

This is what I was told about Santa:

He is always watching me. Even in the bathroom when I take shits.

If I fuck up, he'll rain a shitstorm of stinginess down on my helpless, naive soul.

He's above the law and sneaks into my house at night, un-arrested.

I have to arrange a meal for his post break-in treat.

He gets really pissed if I don't finish my dinner.

He and my parents maintain some kind of deranged "touch point" relationship where Santa receives a detailed rundown of everything I did wrong that might affect my toy intake come December 25th.

If I don't listen, Santa will give my gifts to [insert sister's, cousin's, or neighborhood friend's name].


So needless to say, I was clamoring to meet this guy (read: I was scared shitless). I mean, who would want to meet Santa given that preface? Oh, I know this guy, he's a real spiteful prick and has high cholesterol and a penchant for revenge. Where do I sign up?!

Anyhow, if you couldn't guess, I flipped as soon as I was within spitting distance of this monster. Every spirited wink he threw my way was met with a desperate yelp as I literally needed to be restrained from running out the door into oncoming traffic. I still haven't forgiven dad for arranging that intro. I've forgiven him even less for taking a picture of the incident and laughing about it as it perennially sat on our mantle.

Years later, viewing Christmas from the lens of a 32-year-old father, I now understand why the song "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" includes the lyric, "You better not pout." Santa Claus is in fact a well-constructed farce meant to scare the hell out of children and get them to fall in line and quit their fucking whining...and I think it's fantastic!

As much as I resented the frequent "Santa is watching" warnings as a kid, I now do the same to my own son in lieu of wielding a belt or a wooden spoon.

"Want that remote control Buzz Lightyear? Then I suggest eating those fucking carrots on your plate!" It's unimaginable leverage in a world where I'd otherwise be relegated to coming up with my own disciplinary actions.

Santa wants you to shut the fuck up.

If you're wondering how this "Santa is watching" strategy has been working in my house, I'd say it's effectively infected my older son's psyche. When he's overtired and having a tantrum, the name Santa means shit to Antonio as he convulses on the carpet in despair. But later on, when he's faintly sobbing, thinking more clearly about his own personal end game as he stares worriedly into the night sky? Fear of God, my friend. If you're a new parent, feel free to create a negative connotation of Santa in your child's mind. It might confuse him or her, but they won't be sticking their fingers in your dinner plate (or electrical socket) anytime soon. If you're Jewish, I'm sorry, but you're on your own.

I can't say if Santa is real or not, but the fear in my son's eyes when I threaten to have Santa crap all over his recreational dreams? Oh, that's fucking real. My only problem is stretching this strategy beyond the holiday season!

Till next time, be strong and stay sane. And, if you haven't been beat over the head with the news already, my debut comedy fiction novel is available for purchase! It's a very exciting time for me as I'm finally starting to get my writing out there. This particular story is about an unfulfilled office worker who comes to a breaking point, walking out on his job, and runs into a series of socially awkward, psychologically damaging events. It's only $8. That's like two cups of coffee at Starbucks. Hell, it's less!

My Book: https://www.createspace.com/3717506

Thanks for your support, as always. And if you don't already, go ahead and "follow" this blog to ensure you never miss a post!

- Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com