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