Daddy's Fish BowlA Clear View Of A Father's Family Experiences

Breakfast Time With Tre

The past week or so has been very very interesting. We’ve somehow, inherited a third child. This new kid was thrust upon us and for the time being, we have no way of sending him back. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m all about helping out wayward children and all, but this is going a bit too far. To be fair, the new child isn’t high maintenance. I guess where he comes from, they’re not use to eating very often, so he barely ever bothers us for food. He also came with his own clothes. So really, the only basic need that we are providing to him is shelter. Even though it isn’t a huge burden playing surrogate to this little guy, it still isn’t fair to my wife and I. Call me evil, mean spirited, or what have you; but bottom line is, this kid needs to go.

Okay, now that you’ve all finished sending your hate mail, let me admit that the new kid actually isn’t a kid at all. He’s a stuffed animal, Mickey Mouse to be exact. But recently, Mickey has taken on the persona of a human child and has become Tre’s numero uno. They are inseparable, and while it may be cute and entertaining to outsiders, it is creating a mountain of extra work for Fefe & I. Most kids sleep with their stuffed animals at night and then when they wake up, they go their separate ways. Not Tre!!! Where he goes, Mickey goes, and most recently it has changed into what Tre does, Mickey does. You may be saying, “Come on Keith, how bad can it be?” Well let me tell ya, it’s bad!!!

Exhibit A: Yesterday, when it was time for Tre to eat breakfast, Mickey needed breakfast as well. I don’t know if you can tell from the picture above, but Mickey has 1 “red berry” (a grape) in front of him. Tre would eat some of his cereal, and then take a break to ensure Mickey “ate” his breakfast as well. This consisted of Tre taking the grape and putting it up to Mickey’s mouth while telling him to eat his food. Mickey would then proceed to “eat” the grape, which was demonstrated by the chewing noises that Tre made for him. Afterwards, Tre would then pop the grape into his mouth and tell Mickey he did a good job. Okay, not so bad you say? Similar to a tea party, huh? Sure, I’ll give you that; well let’s just continue on to exhibit B.

Exhibit B: Since Mickey is now eating food, naturally his body needs to remove the waste right? Yup, Mickey must also go to the bathroom now. Whenever Tre uses the bathroom, Mickey is right along with him. Tre goes first and pee pee’s in the potty, after he’s done, he holds Mickey up to the toilet and lets him do his business. But get this, they need separate flushes. I guess it would just be too unsanitary for Mickey to pee in the same water that Tre used. But it doesn’t stop there, no no no, there’s more. Mickey also gets to wear big boy underwear and at night requires a pull up. Tre seriously refused to put a pull up on at night while Mickey was still wearing big boy underwear. No way was the stuffed animal going to outshine him.

Exhibit C: They have fights, arguments, and fall outs. As I’m writing this post, I sent Fefe a text and asked her to take a pic of Tre & Mickey. Her response: “I’ll try, they’re mad at each other right now” WTF, what can they possibly be mad at each other about? It’s a stuffed animal, what can it do to piss you off? Yesterday we were in Target and they had a fight. All we heard was NO MICKEY, and then the bear went sailing clear across 2 aisles. They didn’t “speak” to each other for at least an hour after that

As you can see from the evidence presented above, Mickey is causing extra work for us. We feed Mickey, clothe him, and speak for him. It’s just too much to handle with two real rugrats to deal with. It’s sad to say, but in the end, I feel that I am to blame. Unfortunately my childhood is coming back to haunt my children. When I was young, I too had a “Mickey”, his true name is not allowed to be mentioned. I took him everywhere and did everything with him and quite honestly was a lot worse than Tre. My situation was bordered on dementia. I didn’t give up my “friend” until 7th grade if I’m not mistaken; he was badly tattered and worn. A tear is forming as I write this, but it was for the best to let him go. Hopefully we can break the cycle with Tre, stop it before it gets too bad. End it before he’s 20 something years old, bringing home his future wife to meet Fefe and she goes into the closet and shows an old raggedy Mickey Mouse bear.

YES, my mom actually did that. She showed my old buddy to Fefe the first time I brought her home, and the woman still married me. That’s love right there.

Best Buds Forever (hopefully not)