Apparently, Evilness & Fashion Sense Don't Go Hand In Hand

Have you ever met someone who was just down right mean? When I say mean, I’m talking about borderline evil! I have met such a person, I have looked them in their eyes and lowered my head in shame due to their behavior. It isn’t easy to stare down the face of evil and walk away unscathed, but somebody has to do it, someone has to stand up for the little people, and yesterday, that someone was Ty.

Yesterday while working on the computer, I heard the typical banter that goes on between Ty and Tre on a daily basis. They continually find the most ridiculous things to fight over and it has started to get rather annoying. It got so bad, that Sunday, I made them go upstairs and put on their pajamas and get ready for bed at 3:30pm. Tears flowed heavily and promises were many, so they were able to stay up provided they didn’t fight anymore. Well as you probably guessed, that didn’t last too long.

Today’s source of conflict was none other than Ty’s pillow. Really guys? You can’t find anything more substantial to fight over other than a pillow? I heard Ty telling Tre that he couldn’t have his pillow and then Tre firing back that he wanted it so he could have it. Since I no longer settle disputes between these two, I just kicked my feet up and got ready to enjoy an entertaining display of brotherly love. Ty told Tre that he couldn’t have the pillow because it was his and he needed it to sleep on. Why he needed it to sleep on at 5:30 in the afternoon, I don’t know, but that was his reasoning. Tre, thinking he had Ty cornered said: “fine, that’s why I’ll take it when you at school then, and you can’t stop me”. Ty being ever so clever and accomedating realized that this was an easy way out of this battle where everyone could be a winner. Knowing that he didn’t need the pillow during school hours, he agreed to Tre’s proposal. He told Tre that’s a deal, you can have my pillow when I’m at school, and give it back when I get home. “How about that Tre, do we have a deal?” At this point I was a bit disappointed, my popcorn had just finished popping and it looked like this thing was going to be over before it even got started. But I was in luck, I had momentarily forgotten that we were dealing with Mr. Evil Pants in the flesh. No way was Tre going to let me down and deprive me of my entertainment.

Tre got angry and exclaimed “NO, I’m gonna take it when you home”. Now see, this is where mean turns to evil. What follows is my interpretation of Tre’s mindset, these are merely my thoughts on what was going through his head and can totally be off base, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m right on target. Tre thought he had the game figured out, he essentially wanted to hurt Ty for denying him the pleasure of using his pillow and by informing Ty that he would merely take the pillow while Ty was away, he thought he had succeeded in doing so. But Tre didn’t anticipate Ty’s acceptance of this evil gesture, when Ty accepted, Tre knew he had to step it up a notch to get his revenge. So he told him that not only was he going to take the pillow while Ty was at school and defenseless to stop it, but he was also going to take the pillow while Ty was present and accounted for (just to dig the knife a little deeper).

Ty tried to be reasonable, explaining that he was trying to work with Tre to come to an agreement and they needed to make a deal so they wouldn’t have to go to bed early. Tre, with total disregard for the consequences of their continued bickering shouted: “NO, not now, not ever, NEVER! I won’t make a deal”. I believe at this point, Tre was all but patting himself on the back, not only did he make Ty pay for denying him the use of the pillow, but he had also humiliated him by responding to his kind gesture with a super cool catch phrase that deflated the entire negoitation process.

Tre may have been a bit quick at the draw, because he underestimated his older brothers unwaivering height advantage. Ty thought about Tre’s response carefully for a few moments before countering, finally he said “fine, then you won’t have it all, I’m going to put it up here when I leave” and he proceeded to place his pillow on an upper shelf of their book case. Tre was dumbfouned and resorted to his last tactic…tears and snitching. Fortunately I had heard the entire thing transpire and his usually effective technique didn’t work.

Score – Ty: 1, Tre: 3,423,356.8

Funny, He Was The Only One Laughing

How many of you know someone who is genuinely funny?  I mean someone whose jokes literally make you keel over with laughter.  They’re good people to have around right?  These types of people can turn a bad day around with a few simple words.  When they’re around, a smile is bound to be landing on your face within minutes.  A person who can tell a good joke won’t find themselves with a shortage of friends very often, and for good reason.  But what about those friends who attempt to be funny and just fail at it miserably?  The people who couldn’t tell a good joke if there was a chicken and a road right in front of them (wait a minute, considering that last joke, am I one of those people?)  That’s neither here nor there, this isn’t about me.  No, instead, it’s about a little boy, a 3 year old little boy who I’m afraid is incapable of telling a joke.  In my expert funny accountant opinion, I’d say he’s a class 5 bad joke teller.  We all know that those classified as class five, are destined to live a life of being laughed at instead of laughed with.  It hurts my heart that my very own little boy is walking down such a humiliating road, but without forking over thousands on improv comedy classes, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.  If things continue in this manner, Tre may never know the joy of being able to make people laugh.

I should have known something a long time ago, when Tre first took a stab at being funny.  He was about 18 months old and attempted to tell a knock knock joke, thinking it was cute, I recorded him and the video has been making the rounds on YouTube for quite some time now (see below).  Back then, I thought it was “cute”, “adorable”, “captivating”, but what I should have been thinking was RED FLAG, this is a warning sign of things to come.  Unfortunately, hindsight is 20/20 and I didn’t pick up on the signals until it was potentially too late.

It took a whole 2 years from the time that video was filmed, from the time of the first visible (or audible in this case) cautionary signal for me to truly grasp that we were dealing with a serious problem that could affect Tre’s cool meter for years to come.  The joke that hit home and solidified that my son clearly had no sense of humor went a little something like this:

Fefe to Ty: “Give me five, up high, in the middle, in the lake, you look like a snake”

Ty to Fefe: “Give me five, up high, down low, you look like a toe”

Fefe and Ty went back and forth in this manner a few more times before Tre dropped his bomb of brilliant comedy that would signal to me that this kid clearly just wasn’t funny.

Tre to Ty” “Ty, give me five, up high, in the middle, YOU A HEXAGON”

WHAT??? A freaking hexagon?  The boy had like 5 rounds to get his thoughts and rhymes together and that’s the best joke he could come up with, a gosh darn hexagon?   It wouldn’t have been so bad if Tre didn’t laugh histerically at his joke.  It was a laugh that was pure, unadulterated, it wasn’t forced.  He really thought his hexagon joke was hilarious and he wasn’t afraid to let the world know that he stood behind it.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled at the fact that my 3yr old has transcended basic shapes and knows more abstract items as well.  But what good is a brain if you don’t know how to tuck that thing away at times and rub elbows with the commoners.

I don’t know what the future holds for this little guy, he’s still young, so maybe there’s time for him to break the shackles of Rob Schneider.  I’m preparing for the worst, but hoping for the best.  I’m even considering writing a few of my own jokes down for him to memorize, but would I really be doing him any favors?  What happens when those jokes run out and his friends are thirsty for more?  As a father, the best action I can take is no action.  No if you excuse me, I have to go and prepare my “if they’re laughing at you and not with you, they are not your friends speech”.  I may need it sooner than later.

TYRONE'S BACK

So Ty has been back for over a week now and I can honestly say that he definitely can tell that we missed him.  From the time we picked him up at the airport until the time he went sleep that first night, you would have thought that all four of us were glued together at the hip.  Activity after activity, game after game, discussion after discussion, it was all Ty, all the time.  That first day, you would have thought we were the perfect ideal family, all smiling faces and loving gestures.  Then the sunset, the moon came out and I swear those kids turned into werewolves overnight.  The fighting, bickering, and competition picked up right where it left off, and that’s when I knew, that our family was back to normal.  Read on to hear more about that magical event filled day that Ty came back home to his family.  Check back next week to read about the days that followed, once the parade paraphinala was taken down and the cameras stopped rolling.   Today, you get the happily ever after fairy tale, next week you get the nightmare!

Don’t be too alarmed; the nightmare is actually everyday life for us.  I like to compare it to spending a week in Vegas.  It’s great and all, but there’s no way you can sustain that lifestyle on a regular basis.  After a few days of living in bliss, you realize that the slow and normal pace of your regular life isn’t all that bad and you yearn to return to it.  Ty and Tre must have felt the same way, they could only show their true love for each other for so long before getting burnt out, lol.

Without further ado, let’s travel to Vegas!!!

Ty’s plane got in around 9am last Weds; Fefe, Tre, and I got up super early to make sure we were there on time.  Unfortunately, we were greeted with a big fat plane delayed sign upon our arrival.  It wasn’t too bad, his plane was on the ground within 20 mins.  For some reason, it took FOREVER for Ty and his grandmother to reach the spot that we had picked to ambush Ty and overload him with kisses and hugs.  There were phone calls on top of phone calls to explain that we were waiting at baggage claim, somehow, they where having difficulty locating us.  As we waited, Tre was startled by some little boy with a head full of hair.  We were shocked to find out that it was Ty.  Instead of us ambushing him, they secretly found a way to bypass the baggage claim exit and Ty sneaked up to surprise us.

Brother's Reunited...Priceless

I was nearly brought to tears by the sight of him (don’t judge me), it had been such a long battle, I had missed him so much, that joy filled my heart at every angle and ALMOST overwhelmed me.  I held my composure; I had to stay strong for Fefe and Tre you know.  Ah who am I kidding, those two were built like a rock, nothing but happy faces and smiles from them.  The initial reaction between Ty and Tre was totally priceless, look at that smile in the picture above.  You can’t stage that kind of stuff.  Believe me, I’ve tried!  Attempting to get two little boys to take a realistic smiling picture together is like pulling teeth.

We parked in Florida for our visit to MOA

After the meet and greet at the airport, it was time to hit up the Mall Of America.  Ty had heard so much about this place that he nearly fainted (jokingly, the kid may have a future as a comedian) when I told him that to celebrate his return we were starting off our day with a trip to the mall.  Our first destination was of course Lego Land.  Ty went crazy when he got into the store, we took pictures with the huge Lego constructions around the store, we built things at the building stations, and we bought things, lots of things, to keep us busy for quite some time.

Ty & Lego Woody

Construction Underway

After the novelty of the Lego Store wore off, which didn’t take long because Nick Universe is right outside the store, we headed over for some riding fun.  At that was pretty much all we say of Mall Of America on that trip.  Once we got into Nick Universe, all bets were off, there would be no additional site seeing going on.  Both of my boys are brave little souls.  Tre is fearless for his age, during our first visit he mustarded up enough courage to get on the log ride with me.  I was shocked he didn’t cry and actually said he had fun afterwards.  This time however, he opted out.  Ty on the other hand wanted to ride everything possible.  I was all game too, our first ride was this skateboard looking thing that kind of reminded me of the old school pirate ride.  Unfortunately, Ty was just a tad too short for some of the more courageous rides.  By a tad, I mean 1 freaking inch.  The requirement to ride every attaction was 48 inches, and Ty came in at a whopping 47”.  I tried to teach him the concealed tippy toes trick, but he was overly obvious.  So a lot of the hard hitting rides will have to wait until a subsequent trip.  That’s not to say we didn’t get on some really fun rides however, check out the next few pics for the more extreme shots I was able to snap of our rollercoaster adventures.

Ty's First Rollercoaster Ride (notice the facial expressions of the adult here)

The Face In This Picture Is Priceless!!! GO FEFE

Hot Air Balloon Ride...minus the hot air

Tyrone & Tyrone (Parents know what I mean)

Kids Always Love Spongebob

Fefe didn't know blue was a girl, lol

The Beginning Of The Aggression

After nearly 6 hours of Nickelodeon bliss, we literally had to pry the boys dead lifeless finger grips away from the place in order to grab some food and make our appointment with the iMAX 3D showing of Transformers 3.  Ty and I have gone to see both of the previous Transformers movies on opening night, since he wasn’t with us during the opener, I decided to hold off on my viewing until we could continue our tradition.  It was well worth it, Ty was so into the movie, his enthusiasm definitely increased my enjoyment of the movie.  It’s something about seeing that look of amazement in a child’s eyes during a huge action scene that enhances the scene just a smidgen.  The movie was great overall, in my opinion and Ty’s, it was better than the previous two.

All Ready For The Movie!!!

After the movie, we were all pretty worn out, so we came home, got some dinner and welcomed Ty into his new domicile.  We could tell that he was pretty worn out, so we opted to hold off on playing with Legos until the next day.  When Fefe and I finally laid down for bed that night, there was a slightly different aura surrounding us.  Our family was whole once again, and you could just feel it in the air that night.

By morning, the feeling could no longer be felt, it was replaced with a much different, much more familiar feeling.  A feeling of “oh boy, so it begins”

Come back next week to find out exactly what it was that began.

Sleeping Beauty, umm Sleeping Handsome maybe???

Okay, so maybe “overcome the odds” is a bit much for the actual content of this post, but in a way, it is actually pretty fitting.  That’s because Tre did overcome the odds; the odds of having an overdramatic Dad who didn’t take time out to think about his actions before actually acting on them.  If you’re a bit confused, don’t worry, things are about to become clear in 3…2…1 remember this post: “A Horrifying Fairy Tale”? Yup that one, the one were I got a little too involved with my bedtime story duties.  If you recall, my Big Bad Wolf was just a little too big and bad for Tre’s liking.  It took Tre a while to overcome my debacle, but eventually the “Three Little Pigs” became his favorite book, replacing “Jack and the Beanstalk” completely.  In fact, he’s listened to the book so much that we no longer have to read it to him, he takes care of that these days.  Check it out!

Win, Lose, Or Draw?

From the look of the picture above, I guess it’s pretty safe to say that Ty lost this one. I really wish that I could tell you guys that this was an epic battle for the ages, complete with a training montage, Rocky Balboa style; but alas, I can’t. This thing was over before it even got started, I’m talking split second, one hitter quitter, wam bam thank you Ma’am. Looking at that picture, all I can think is, why my boy? What could I have done differently to protect him? The answer to those questions is staring me right in the face; I should have stopped this along time ago.

Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to mention, Ty’s injury wasn’t the result of being on the losing end of a drunken bar fight sugar induced Kool-Aid stand brawl. It was actually the result of a reckless neighborhood boy, a rock, and bad parenting! Those questions that I previously asked still apply however. I kid you not, on Saturday, I had just finished a blog post entitled “Unwelcomed Guest” about the neighborhood boy (who will now be referred to as NB). The post was basically probing you guys for advice on dealing with one of your child’s friends who you feel is a bad apple. Needless to say, I no longer need your advice, but I’m still curious to hear your thoughts, so I’ve taken parts of that post and transcribed it into this new, more relevant post.

To begin, let me give you a little background on NB. He’s that kid in your neighborhood who is ALWAYS outside. When I say always, I literally mean always; it’s as if his Mother decided that the “provide shelter” requirement of parenthood was only applicable during bedtime. NB is a few years older than Ty, but since his primary residence is the great outdoors, he often gravitates to any individual that ventures into his domain. He has even befriended me on more than one occasion. My only escape from NB’s grasp was to go back inside.

Being a bit older than Ty, NB often tries to take advantage of Ty and use him specifically for his ultra cool toys. For example, in one instance, NB asked if Ty could come outside; a few minutes later, Ty asked could he take his Nerf guns outside and when we told him no, NB was gone moments afterwards. Fefe and I sat down with Ty and explained the difference between his real friends and those people who pretend to be friends with him because of the things that he has. This was a lesson that I hadn’t anticipated on teaching for quite sometime, unfortunately, I had to speed up my lesson plan. Ty acknowledged and understood our conversation, but we could both tell that he was still impressed by this older and presumably cooler kid.

This is where you guys, my faithful readers were suppose to come in. I wanted to know, as a parent, how far should we go in sculpting our children’s friends? How involved should we be in screening the individuals that they choose to spend time with? I know that Ty is still at an age where choosing his friends for him is relatively manageable, but when he gets a little older, that won’t be the case. What tactics do you parents use to guide your child away from children who they may feel are cool, but deep down you know that they are bad news? Do you simply present them with the tools to recognize these individuals and hope that your lessons were well received? Or do you intervene and risk pushing them closer towards the undesirable?

For this particular case, the decision was made simple for me. Yesterday while playing a game of hide and seek, NB somehow threw a rock at Ty and created the monstrosity that you see in the photo above. This was the last straw for both Fefe and I. Why would throwing a rock towards another human being even be a thought that crosses the mind of any child with home training is beyond me. This child is reckless, and his reckless behavior has resulted in the injury of my son, so whether Ty likes it or not, he will no longer be allowed to play with NB. Fefe went and talked to his mother (who had no idea where the kid was by the way) and the Mom explained that she had just recently talked with him about his behavior the day before. Obviously, the talk didn’t work. His Mom offered to help pay for any hospital fees that we incur, typically, I would just dismiss this as a nice gesture and would not consider taking her up on her offer. But I don’t like this kid, and she obviously has issues with disciplining him; maybe if she gets smacked with a $400 hospital bill, she’ll kick her efforts up a notch.

Oh and if anyone is counting, we are now up to 9 stitches total for the year between the two boys.  If you’re interested in reading about the other 5, check out this post, smh.

Poor Ty...

The Eye Didn't Start Out All That Big

As a child, my dream was to become a professional basketball player.  My world consisted around playing basketball, it was like the hoops version of “The Sandlot”, all I wanted to do was play ball.  I thought I was pretty good, the best even. I was a few years older than the kids on my street, so I dominated for the most part. This gave me a false sense of self confidence, one that was briskly whisked away from me during my middle school intramurals. It was at that point that I realized I was merely an average basketball player, probably below average, but I’ll never admit that. What I will admit is that any and every dream I had of playing professional basketball had been crushed during those intramurals. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but was definitely a much needed eye opener.

Ty recently experienced a similar eye opener. It hurt my heart because I saw the same defeat in his poor little eyes that was once in mine those many years ago on that basketball court. I tried to console him, but the damage had been done; although he won’t admit it, Ty no longer strives to be a master magician.

After filming the latest edition of  Ty’s Tuesday Toy Review, Tre requested that Ty perform a magic show for him. Ty jumped at the opportunity, being no stranger to performances, he was glad to entertain his little brother. But you see, Ty’s previous audiences consisted of parents, grandparents, and other responsible adults. Tre was a different beast entirely, just as my peers in middle school were a much tougher challenge than the neighborhood kids who were several years my junior.  Tre was not trained in the skillful techniques of “just go with it”, he’s a raw, get to the point, straight shooter type of guy. This exact type of person is the one most likely to ruin dreams and shatter futures. This experience would be no exception.

So Ty, confident as ever begins his magic show; greeting the audience, gathering props, raising the excitement level. He immediately moves into a trick that up until this point he has not been able to perfect. He’s supposed to make a ball split in half; unfortunately, he’s unable to do it without putting the components behind his back. Fefe & I being “just go with it” gurus, typically pretend that we don’t notice the magician doing something behind his back. Tre on the other hand lacks tact & quickly blurted out “what you doing back there Ty?” Ty responds that he’s not doing nothing and carries on with the trick. Tre was unimpressed to say the least.

Sensing that he was losing his audience, Ty goes into his grand finale; his big bang showstopper trick that he has perfected time & time again. The trick is one that can be seen in the toy review video. It consists of making a ball disappear by placing it into a magic box that has a secret compartment. Tre had no previous knowledge of how this trick works, but he was not to be fooled. After Ty made the ball disappear, he looked as if he had just made the Statue of Liberty vanish into thin air. He was proud, he was smug, he had captivated his audience…he could not have been more wrong. As Ty was asking the audience where the ball went, Tre moved in a bit closer and said “it’s right there” pointing to the empty box. I could tell Ty was panicking; he had never experienced a clever audience member before. He told Tre that there was nothing in the box “see, look” and that’s when Tre delivered his knockout, dream deflating blow. He said, it’s there Ty, you gotta open the door first.

Ty looked at me, our eyes met and I saw a small piece of him die inside. We spoke no words, yet in that split second, an entire dialog was exchanged. I understood his pain; he was looking to me for answers. I tried to interject & tell Tre that the ball was gone and Ty had to bring it back. He bought it, but the damage was done. Ty finished the trick, but with considerably less enthusiasm. You could tell that things would never be the same for this little magician.

Tre is your typical 3 yr old. He HATES going to bed. Whether it is for a nap, bed time, or a “let’s see who can sleep the longest” contest, he despises it. I honestly don’t know why we purchased a race car bed for him, since he spends more time pretending to drive his bed than actually sleeping in it. Let’s take a look at the facts, let’s look deep down at the many tactics that this kid deploys in an attempt to gain a few extra minutes of awake time. All bets are off when it comes to Tre and fighting sleep, nothing is sacred and the only rule is, there are no rules!

Exhibit A: The Never Ending Hunger – A mere three days ago during bedtime, Tre went to his room without any objection.  This should have been a clue that he had something up his sleeve.  After about 20 minutes in his bed, he comes downstairs and starts to cry.  We ask what’s wrong and he tells us that he is hungry.  The way this kid was crying, you would have thought we had been starving him for the past few days.  Seeing as how he had just eaten a pretty hefty dinner, we could tell that this was an obvious ploy to avoid bedtime.  Nonetheless, we played along and Fefe made him a PB&J sandwich, edges cut off, just how he likes it.  Tre was downstairs “eating” for nearly 40 minutes and rather than explain to you, I’ll just show you how much food he consumed, smh.

It took 40 mins for this tiny bite?

Exhibit B:  The Movie Marathon – Sometime last week, we were having a family movie night and Toy Story 3 was the kid tested, parent approved choice for the night (I’ve always wanted to throw that slogan into one of these posts).  We had the popcorn popped, drinks poured, and an electric blanket warming us up.  It was all set to be a nice family evening.  Tre had other plans however, he was extremely tired since he refused to nap earlier that day, so he was doing any and everything he could to keep moving.  He knew, as did we, that if he sat still and watched the movie, sleep was inevitable.  Tre kept getting up, going to the bathroom, playing with toys, dropping popcorn, chasing our dog tank.  He was doing pretty much everything except watching the movie.  Fefe and I decided that enough was enough and told Tre it was time for bed.  He got so upset, tears started flowing and cries were hollered.  He pleaded with us to stay up; his reasoning was that he NEEDED to watch that Toy Story movie.  He insisted that watching this movie was a serious need, which if unmet would most certainly lead to his demise.

With the evidence just presented, you would think that as a father, I would do any and everything in my power to diffuse his reluctance for sleep, rather than add to it. Well, with me, as you’ll learn, I rarely take the road most travelled & tend to miss the obvious at times.  Our bedtime ritual consists of reading a bedtime story, as a way to calm down from all of the days excitement.  For the past few MONTHS, that bedtime story has been “Jack & The Beanstalk”.  I understand the purpose is to reduce excitement at bedtime, but come on, how much more boring can you get, reading the same book every night for months on end.  So last week, I decided to try something different, I pleaded with (and bribed) Tre for the opportunity to read another book.  He granted my wish and chose the “Three Little Pigs”.  This was my chance; finally, I could potentially break the shackles placed on me by Jack and his stupid beanstalk.  I knew that I had to make this book ROCK, it had to be totally awesome if it were to stand even a shimmer of a chance against the great Jack.  Well I poured my heart and soul into that book; I think you’d be hard pressed to ever find a more enthusiastic rendition of the Three Little Pigs than the one I gave to Tre.  Unfortunately, it was a bit too enthusiastic.

Tre loved the book and was genuinely into it.  He asked questions, he wanted to know what happened next, he had a smile on his face and thanked me for reading it to him.  I walked out of that room with my head held high, I did it, I had won, Jack could forever be retired now.  As I returned downstairs, Fefe says: “Dude, what got into you while reading that book?”  We laughed and went on about our night.  A few hours later, Tre woke up crying hysterically, it was too the point that we couldn’t even make out what he was saying.  Fefe brought him downstairs and sat him on the couch, we didn’t know if he was hurt, sick, or what.  The type of cries he exhibited were very unusual.  We both questioned him as if he were a suspect in a high profile criminal case, after a few minutes the interrogation was over, as our suspect broke his silence.  He uttered 6 muffled words that we could barely make out.  We got in very close and asked him to repeat it, this time it was clear, very clear what the problem was.  Fefe looked at me with disgust and I just held my head low.  Tre’s 6 words: HE GONNA BLOW MY HOUSE DOWN…

Who would have thought that these would be so valuable

How many times have you received a gift that you just didn’t want? I mean one that was so bad, you actually considered giving it back to the person who gave it to you? Now that’s a pretty bold move, considering it’s the thought that counts. Returning a gift to someone basically says not only does your gift suck, but I also don’t care much about your feelings. Who would be so callous to do such a thing? You guessed it, I would! I have done it, and probably shouldn’t be so smug about my actions. The gift giver was my mother.

Before you get all bent out of shape and call me the worst son to ever walk the earth, let me explain. This story starts off many many years ago, nearly 10 years now that I think about it. It was Christmas during my first year of college and I had returned home to celebrate with my family. Up until that point, my Mom had bought a gag/joke gift for me every year and loved seeing my reaction opening all of the horrific gifts over the years. Well this year I decided to take a stand and fight back! This year’s gag gift was a set of hot wheelesqe cars. Now these weren’t collector’s items, in fact, they were cheap cars bought from the dollar store. To make matters worse, it was the last gift that I opened that year, talk about ending on an anti-climatic note. You can probably imagine my displeasure, I’m a grown man, and I receive a pack of children’s cars as a Christmas gift? I decided that this year presented an opportunity to fight back, since I was leaving to go back to school, I’d simply leave the cars at my parents house and let them deal with them. Cleaver huh? I certainly thought so. Little did I know, this simple action would spark a lifelong tradition between us.

A few weeks went by and I had totally forgotten about those silly cars. Then I received a package from my Mom and as a college student, there is no greater feeling than receiving a surprise care package from back home! Well maybe there are a few feelings that could surpass it, but for the sake of argument, let’s just go with care packages = greatest feeling for college students. So I enthusiastically open this package expecting to find treasures, treats, possibly MONEY; to my dismay, the only thing inside the “care package” was that stupid pack of cars. Arrrrrggggggg, I was fuming; not only did she get her laughs in during Christmas while watching me open this gift, she was now probably sitting back somewhere eagerly anticipating the phone call in which I expressed my displeasure with her care package. I refused to give her the satisfaction, we were now at war! I struck first, and she decided to retaliate, after that care package, all bets were off.

Since that point, these cars have been exchanged back and forth between us numerous times, too many to count at this point. With each exchange the stakes rise and creativity is paramount. For example, during one of her visits while the cars were in my possession, I slipped them into her suitcase before she left. Talk about a parting gift, lol. I didn’t see the cars for quite some time after that, not until her next visit. Before she left, she took upon herself to hide the cars throughout the house. 6 little cars hidden in cabinets, coat pockets, DVD cases; you have no idea how long it took me to locate all of them. With each one I found, the desire to top her increased exponentially. So I crafted a plan, which I just unleashed this week and is the inspiration behind this post.

Who Wouldn't Accept This Gift?

During her last visit here, I knew she would be expecting retaliation; despite how tempted I was, I resisted the urge to return the cars. Instead I held off for greener pastures and it definitely paid off. I contacted one of her co-workers and asked if it’d be okay to send a package which was to be secretly delivered to my Mom at work. The offer was accepted and the plan was in motion. I sent the above package to my Mom’s friend and she, using all of her covert ops training was able to place it on my Mom’s desk without being detected. Once she found it, she thought it was a gift from the staff (it had been over 6mnths since the last car exchange, so cars were the furthest thing from her mind). She believed it to be candy, a little trinket perhaps; then the package was opened and I wish I could have been there to see her face.

She was shocked, happy, and relieved. Since it took me so long to retaliate, she thought our tradition was lost. I’m glad I could clear up that misconception for her. I can only imagine what she has in store for the next exchange, but I truly welcome it. This is something so simple that we do, yet it brings us so much joy and strengthens our bond. I look forward to continuing this tradition for many years and possibly having something similar with my own children when they grow up.

A few years after starting this tradition, my Mom came across the following email. I was amazed that someone else would have the same silly “feud” going on and it made me appreciate those cars so much more. I’m not sure who the author is, but I truly enjoyed the read.

The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.

“You’re not taking that old thing, are you?” Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. “I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!”

“It’s just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!” I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.

The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her “real” gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.

The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad’s to pick up some
furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!

And so the pattern was set.

On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad’s mattress. I don’t know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois . As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, “So use every piece of God’s armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up.”

I tried to picture myself wearing God’s armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt. Slowly, it dawned on me. Wasn’t my mother’s love a piece of God’s armor? My courage was renewed.

Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.

Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet.
Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words “I BELONG TO PAT.”

Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, “I BELONG TO PAT’S MOTHER.” But I didn’t stop there. I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington , VA. We enclosed an
Official looking letter from “The Institute for the Destitute,” announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom’s face when she opened the box. But, of course, she never mentioned it.

Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend’s garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: “Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother.”

That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: “I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn’t fragile like the peace the world gives. So don’t be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me.”

The shirt was Mother’s final gift. She had known for three months that
she had terminal Lou Gehrig’s disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.

I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I’m glad I didn’t, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

For those of you that know me, you already have an understanding of how “out of left field” I can be.  I enjoy having a good time and bringing joy to the people that I love; so when I got a text a few weeks ago saying that Ty would like to discuss the possibility of watching TV at night on the weekends, I immediately knew that it would be an opportunity to have some family fun. 

I don’t know where my ideas come from, but I do know that my family enjoys them and that’s all that matters.  I encourage all of you to break the mold, and invent new and exciting ways to enjoy family time.  The video that you see here was my stab at it, and we had a great time doing it.  Ty gained the opportunity to watch TV until he falls asleep on the weekends, but he also learned that even though you may have earned the right to something, it isn’t always handed to you.  Sometimes you have to fight for it and prove that you actually deserve it.  The fact that he was able to gain such a valuable lesson, while having fun is quite an accomplishment in my book. 

Do you have any ideas or examples of ways that you interact with your kids in an unconventional way to teach them values, or just to break the monotony of board games and standard “family time” activities? If so, I’d love to hear about them.

This Has Got To Stop

Last night I tweeted a tweet that went a little something like this: “Silly Bandz are ruining the world, yes the world! The children are the future and Silly Bandz are corrupting them, therefore the world is doomed!”  I meant every word of that statement and I stand by it.  The things I’ve seen in association with these simple rubber bands have been enough to make a sane man check himself into Bellevue and never come out.  You want to know why the Swine Flu pandemic never happened, well it’s because the Bandz pandemic took over first.  I’ve seen frightening things people, and in an effort to educate you on the fight against Silly Bandz, I will share those memories that I fought so hard to repress, putting myself through pain and anguish all for the greater good of mankind.

These things come in different shapes and colors, THAT’S IT. They don’t do anything special, don’t make cool sounds, nothing, just different shapes and colors.  You would think with all of the technology floating around, our children would demand more from their newest fad, but they don’t. Silly Bandz are simple and they love them. Kids don’t even go outside to play anymore; they go outside to trade these stupid things.  Apparently, trading is a skilled art form that takes precision and accuracy to complete so there isn’t time for outrageous activities such as hide & seek, or tag.  One day, Ty was outside “playing” with his friends for at least 2 hours.  I checked on them periodically and I witnessed no playing at all.  They were just sitting on the ground talking, shuffling these rubber bands around amongst each other. When Ty came in, I asked why him and his friends weren’t playing. His response: “Oh we were playing, see look, I made some good trades. Look at this pig I got and oooohhhh check out this, ummm <blank stare> ummm, well I don’t know what it is, but it’s cool huh”.  All I could do was shake my head and look to Tre as our only hope.  Ty was too far gone, he couldn’t be saved, could no longer be trusted, he’d steal from his momma to get his hands on more Silly Bandz, he had become infected. 

The Infection Is Spreading

But not Tre, he was still pure, seemingly immune to the effects of this horrid disease.  But as with any pandemic, the strong can only hold out for so long. A few days ago, Ty purchased a new pack of Silly Bandz and was gracious enough to share 2 with his little brother.  Well gracious is a bit of an overstatement, it should really be replaced with FORCED.  This kid honestly didn’t want to give up those 2 Silly Bandz and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why.  I mean, he had about 70 split up between his wrists and just got a new pack of 24, so what’s the harm in giving up two of them? Maybe he was trying to protect Tre, trying to ensure that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes and walk to dangerous path that Ty had travelled down. Whatever his reasoning, it didn’t work.  Just that small sample was enough to infect Tre.  When this disease hits, it hits hard and fast.  Within two days Tre and his 2 Silly Bandz were inseparable. 

Last night during bedtime, Tre kept whining about his Silly Bandz, saying that he lost them.  After the fourth trip upstairs to find his lost possessions (which were always located right next to him in the bed), I said enough was enough.  I told him I was going to put them on the dresser so that he wouldn’t lose them and that right there was the biggest mistake of my life.  This boy cried like I had never seen him cry before, constantly repeating “I need Silly Bandz” in a tear-filled shivering tone. It was nearly unbearable; I couldn’t stand to watch how this disease affected him. So I gave them back and realized that I had now lost 2 sons to this wretched infection.

Based on what I’ve witnessed over the past few months, with last night being the icing on the cake; I now know that something must be done about this issue. Someone must take a stand and save our youth.  I’m planning a march on Washington to propose that our government fund a “FIGHT THE BANDZ” campaign. It’s going to have a really cool acronym like D.A.R.E. did with their drug campaign and together we are going to fight this epidemic and take our children back! Are you with me people???