The Age of Not Listening

It’s starting to happen.

The boy is getting the taste of the tragic disease which doctors call the “I’M NOT LISTENING” syndrome. What does it stand for?

The horrific I’M NOT LISTENING syndrome is an acronym for “I May Not Open These Listening Instruments So Try Elling Nomeone Ielse Noure Guff!” (screw you!!! I tried to come up with an explanation for the acronym but damn all those n’s and ending with a g!!! Think you can do better?  Leave it in the comments!!!)

Anyway, the I’M NOT LISTENING syndrome is basically where a kid, usually a teenager, completely, totally and blatantly ignores and defies your commands whilst in a public arena.

As with most kids these days, the syndrome seems to be hitting kids at a younger age. And…well, our boy has been infected.

It first starts out with him ignoring your first request while looking at the other adults for approval remarks that tell him "yes…yes I am being a bad-ass."

All it takes is one misread gesture and it all goes downhill from there.

You want examples don’t you?

Example #1

Standing with a group of neighbors enjoying the afternoon, a few beers and riveting conversation when all of a sudden the boy decides it would be genius to show the world his razor like precision of a soccer ball kick in our direction.

Me: “Grayson! Please don’t kick the ball in our…”

*The ball goes flying and I stop it mere inches from destroying the face of a neighbor.

Me: “Seriously Grayson!!! Really!!?! Come on, you know better.”

*As he launches ball #2 towards the group nailing the wife in the butt.

Me: “Grayson!!! Do you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, son!!?!”

The Boy: “Can I have the balls back? I want to kick them again?”

Me: “You must be insane!!!”

The Boy: “What? It’s just soccer.”

Me: “I told you twice to not kick them at us and you didn’t listen and kicked them anyway.”

*Two minutes later ball #3 slams into my back causing me to drop my beer. I turn with “that look” and the boy takes off in a sprint that would make Hussein Bolt look like a chump.

Example #2

 Me: “Grayson, go brush your teeth.”

*The boy plays with the dog.

Me: “Grayson…seriously man! Go brush your teeth for bed!”

*The boy glances at dinner guests in the next room sipping their wine, then continues to play with the dog.

Me: “You know I know where you sleep right? You know that there’s no way you could possibly stay awake longer than me EVER! Right!!?!”

*The boy talks over me calling for the dog to do a trick.

Me: “You know you’ve told me the girl you think is cute in your class and I could rat you out with one simple little Facebook posting right?”

The Boy: “Love you dad! Goodnight! I’m off to go brush my teeth!”

And that’s my new weapon against the syndrome. “Humiliation.”

I didn’t just spend eight years of my life wiping his butt, picking his boogers, and cleaning his puke just to raise a delightful well-rounded boy.

No, I did it so I could have a life-time of memories which could be used against him at the right moment to get what I want!! In this case…it’s to get him to do what I say the first time.

So stand back Grayson, daddy’s going to win this public war.

Go ahead, ignore me when I ask if you to brush your teeth or go put your shoes on. I just might have a picture of you reading a book while sitting on the baby shitter in the playroom.

Bring it on buddy!!



Shotgunned By 20 Questions From A 7-Year-Old

A few days ago the boy came down with a 102 fever.

Typically he man-handles the fever, throws it on the floor and tells it that “your mom’s so fat she wears a VCR as a beeper.”

But this time, the fever got the better of him and stuck around for a while.

So, the next day we call the doctor, set an appointment, and a couple hours later I’m on my way to get the boy looked over.

It was upon this journey that the he unleashed a fury questions that almost had me comatose, crying, and begging to just be put out of my misery.

Hell Hath No Fury Like 20 Questions Shotgunned From A 7-Year-Old

“What are they going to do to me daddy?”

“Take your temperature, listen to you breathe, listen to your heart, and probably…”

“Will I have to take my shirt off?”

“I don’t know buddy, probably.”

“And my pants?”

“I doubt it. You’re sick around your throat so I doubt they’ll…”

“I remember going to the doctor one time and I got down to my undies and then the doctor pulled them out and looked down at my pee-pee. And she was A WOMAN!!! Will I get a shot?”

“Yes, probably in the neck.”

“DADDY ARE YOU SERIOUS?!!!”

“No dude…I’m kidding. No, you probably won’t get a shot.”

“Will I ever get a shot again in my life?”

“Yes, we’ll be getting one as a family in the next few months before flu season.”

“REALLY? Will they do it in the arm or in the leg?”

“Probably in the leg, Grayson.”

“Will it bruise me?”

“I don’t know, but if you ask me another…”

“What causes bruising?”

“Well, the shot breaks the skin which injures it and causes it to bruise on some people. I think.”

“Do I have the flu right now?”

“No Grayson, I seriously doubt you have the flu. It’s not…”

“How do you know? You’re not a doctor?”

“Why did you ask me then?”

“Do you think mommy bruises?”

“I know she bruises dude. That’s why she’s always running away from me?”

“Because you bruise her? That’s mean daddy.”

“No…no…not like that. I meant…just, you know what, let’s listen to some music and just relax for a bit dude.”

“Will they have bathrooms there?”

“Seriously? You seriously want to know if they have…”

“What if I have to go boom boom while she’s taking my temperature?”

“Ok, now you’re just being ridiculous. Do you want me to stop and get you a diaper?”

“DADDY!!! NO!!! But…can we stop and make Macy wear one?”

“Want to play the quiet game with me?”

“Will my doctor be a woman?”

“Yes, all the doctors here are women.”

“Will they take my pants down?”

(I mumble) “No, but daddy might take his pants down if…”

“What daddy?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking out-loud.”

“About the doctor?”

“Yes Grayson…about the doctor…hey look…something shiny out the window!!!”

We arrived a short time later. This, my dear readers is one of many reasons why I sometimes fall asleep crying almost every night.

Our Neighbors Think We're Heathens

My neighbors think we’re horrific parents.

I’m convinced of this is fact.

It’s spring, everyone’s outside, windows are open, wind’s blowing in the right direction…life couldn’t be better. We live in a very urban area – I can almost touch my house and my neighbor’s house at the same time.

So, I’m outside drinking wine and watching the kids live-out their childhood. Occasionally I’ll wave to a neighbor with that calm, collective, “what’s up man! Life’s good…just relaxing with the family” kinda wave.

Usually that’s the kid’s cue to go absolutely ballistic.

Immediately the boy yells “I said no Macy now STOOOOOP!!!!” Then rides away on his bicycle towards the corner of the street inches from going into traffic.

As I’m running down the sidewalk carrying wine, yelling “HONEY…GRAB MACY…SHE’S BLEEDING” I happen to notice half the neighborhood stopping mid-discussion and turning towards our rabid family.

“WHAT?!” my wife screeches from inside the house.

“GRAB MACY…GRAYSON MADE HER BLEED AND NOW HE’S RIDING HIS BIKE INTO TRAFFIC!!”

This is where I bring the scene to a screeching halt and reveal that we are actually the “older” family on the block. My kids are almost 6 and 8. The average age of the rest of the block’s children… 1.7 years old. So they’re standing there in horror as they watch elements of parenthood unfold that they have yet to experience.

As they gather their children and herd them away from the scene with disappointing looks on their faces I can almost hear them mumbling “we’ll never be like that will we George?”

“Never Marcia. We’ll never parent like those heathens!”

The neighborhood air is consistently filled with the loving ramblings of our family-of-four as sentiments such as these come flying out our house windows regularly:

 “I said GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!! How many times do I have to ask you?”

“I AAAMMMM finishing in the shower…geeeeze!!”

“OOOOWWWW daddy!!! Your pulling my hair, let me comb it!!!”

“Mooooommmyyyyyyy Macy won’t stop snoring!!”

“NO! You cannot have a chocolate bar while you go to sleep!! That’s just insane! Now go to bed!!”

“But honey!!! I thought tonight was really going to be ‘the’ night!?”

I think back to before we had kids and I remember the many times in the grocery seeing the mother say to the little boy, “stop touching things on the shelf. Do you hear me?! One more time Mr. and you’re in BIG trouble.”

And I always thought…I’d never, NEVER talk to MY kids like that. Guess it goes to show the number one rule as a parent is never say “I’ll never.”

Now if I can get my wife to stop talking to me like that in the grocery…