Boy Dog, Girl Dog, Who Cares Right?

I’m just going to be blunt here; Tre is a toddler sexist. I have to call it how I see it, even if that means bashing my own flesh n blood. The sad part is, I blame myself. Well not really, but whenever something goes wrong with a child, everybody rushes to blame the parents, so I figured I’d beat you guys to it. Apparently he’s been this way his entire life and I’m just now realizing it. Maybe deep down I’ve always known the truth, but did my best to suppress it in hopes that it would go away. However, lately, it has become undeniable; his blatant sexism and total disregard for the opposite sex is now too much to ignore. You may be wondering how is it possible that a toddler, a child so pure, so innocent could be labeled something as harsh as a sexist. Well it’s really pretty simple; he feels that the male persuasion is superior in every way, shape, and form (his words, not mine). How do I know this you say? I know this because Tre refuses to utilize feminine pronouns to address individuals belonging to the female gender. To Tre, everything is he, his, or him, regardless of the sex of the person he’s referring to. I don’t know about you, but to me that seems pretty sexist.

I first became truly aware of this shocking behavior when we moved to Minneapolis. My roommate has a girl dog and Tre loves to play with her. Initially, I didn’t pay much attention to his grammatical inaccuracies. I let it slide when Tre would say things like I’m going to get his (girl dog) ball, or he licked me. A multitude of statements like these would come out of his mouth, literally spewing his self righteous, male elitism to anyone within an earshot. I took it has Tre merely being misinformed, you know, maybe he just didn’t know that the dog was a girl, we haven’t had that birds and bees talk yet, so how would he know how to determine the gender of a dog right? It’s not like they wear frilly bows and dresses ya know. So I took it upon myself to educate the young child, I explained that Kamari was a girl dog and Tank (our dog) was a boy dog. Tre looked at me as if one of the great wonders of the world had been explained to him. His eyes showed that he know understood, he was on board, I stopped him from a life full of womanizing and exclusion, triumphant I was, and proud of my conquest. That’s when he looked at Kamari and said GOOD BOY!!!

I knew it was serious now, clearly he understood my explanation. Obviously it didn’t matter; he took my words, chewed them up and spit them out. Tre basically said, I don’t care if YOU want to call this dog a girl, to me BOYS are the only thing that matter. He even took it a step further, branding his own mother as a HE. Fefe was previously always referred to as she or her, but somewhere along the way, Tre’s views had consumed him, consumed even the clear distinction of a mother’s love. At this point, I felt defeated, destined to have a child who would never truly know female companionship due to his inherent lack of respect for woman. This was getting serious; I couldn’t just stand by while my son walked down a path that would only lead to loneness and despair. Something needed to be done, and I had just the trick.

Saturday night, I pulled out the big guns! This was my last shot, my last stand against this sexist little monster that I call my son. One of my friends has a beautiful little 3 year old and I set up a play date for her and Tre. If this little girl couldn’t break him of his ill ways, all hope would be lost. I was prepared for resistance, I knew Tre wouldn’t let go of his hold onto those male elitist views easily. I was ready with speeches, and examples, and comparisons of how this little girl was in fact a girl and not a he or him. I was ready and willing to use everything at my disposal to dispel this evil mentality that Tre had developed. That’s when the unthinkable happened.

The little girl walked in and Tre took one look at her, ran over and said HEY, YOU’RE A GIRL!!! He then laughed, ran back to me and said: “Daddy, is SHE going to play with me, I want to show HER my toys”. I was so relieved, my tactics had worked. Tre had been cured, his future was looking brighter by the minute; he would eventually find a woman to love him, have kids of his own someday, and live happily ever after. All of these things would be made possible because of me, his Dad, the man who cured him of his sexist ways. Because of my accomplishment, I felt as if I was on top of the world that night. That’s when Tre turned to the little girl and muttered: “so you don’t have a wee wee huh?”

Smh, where did I go wrong, lol

The 3rd Child

Tank doesn’t get a lot of shine over hear at DFB, that’s partly my fault because I’ve never truly embraced him as ‘my’ dog, (we’ll save that for another story).  But it’s only partly my fault; the other part is because, well let’s face it, dogs just aren’t really all that exciting to write about. Once Tank starts reciting the alphabet, or doing doggie back flips, he’ll get featured more; but for now, this tail (intentional) will have to due.  This morning around 5am I awoke to the sound of clawing and scratching at our back door, mixed with faint dog barks.  I immediately got pissed, and immediately knew what today’s topic would be about.

Although Tank may not be very popular on this blog, he is very popular in our neighborhood.  In fact, he’s more popular than our kids.  Ty has a few friends that stop by every now and then to see if he can come out to play, but Tank has a buddy that comes by EVERYDAY trying to get Tank to come out.  He also had a girlfriend that was crazy about him.  Needless to say, our family is in a sad sad state when the majority of the visitors at our door are canine.  That’s why I was pissed this morning, the clawing and scratching wasn’t coming from Tank, it was coming from his friend “Prince”.  Prince is a Pomeranian, with the highest pitched bark known to man, to call it annoying would be an understatement.  This dog comes to our house at least 5 times a day looking for Tank to come outside to play.  At first it was kind of neat, our dog had a buddy to play with, but recently it has become rather irritating.

I don’t know if his owner has changed jobs, or schedules, but these 5am visits from Prince can’t go on much longer.  It’s like that friend that constantly drunk dials you every weekend and interrupts your sleep, there’s only so much you can take.  To go along with the early morning wake up calls, Prince has decided to leave little “calling cards” to make sure Tank knows that he stopped by.  When I say calling cards, I’m not referring to a little piece of paper with a paw print that says “I dropped by”, no, I’m talking about doggie poop, doo doo, SHIT; whatever you choose to call it.  This little mutt has taken up the practice of taking a dump right at our back door; but he only does it if Tank doesn’t come out to play.  Is this the doggie rendition of the flaming bag of poop?

If Prince wasn’t bad enough, there’s also the Chihuahua from next door, Tank’s love interest.  This bitch is crazy! Haha, I just said bitch, and it wasn’t offensive.  But seriously she is, she would be in heat like 12 times a year.  Maybe she was just a horny little dog, and with Tank being the stud that he is, she just couldn’t get enough?  To put things into perspective, she literally ran in our house one day while we were about to leave.  We opened the door and like a flash of lightening she ran in and started looking for Tank.  Fefe  ran around the house like a fool good samaritan trying to catch her.  This dog was determined; she went upstairs, in bedrooms, pretty much scoured the earth looking for Tank.  Fefe eventually got the dog to leave, but it was a very surreal event.  If you noticed, I’ve referred to Tank’s chic in past tense, that’s because we just recently found out that she was hit by a car and died not too long ago.  RIP, little horny Chihuahua that never got laid.

Because Tank has lost his first true love, I won’t banish his buddy from coming to our patio.  That would just be cruel, to lose your woman and your best friend; I’m not that evil.  But if that dog poops on my patio again, I’m going to fling it at his owners newly purchased Mercedes Benz.

A Boy & His Dog

Tre has a best friend in our house; you would think it’d be one of his parents, more likely his older brother, all of the above are WRONG.  His best friend is the stupid dog, Tank.  Don’t get me wrong, Tank is a good dog at times but come on, to choose the dog over your own kind?  It kind of makes me question the kid’s loyalty.

Let me explain, Tre, like his dad, has a bit of a mean streak to him.  We’ve all felt his wrath when he’s on the warpath from time to time.  All of us except Tank that is.  Well there was one time when Tank stole one of Tre’s snacks from his hand, Tre got upset and called Tank a “bad dog”.  But that doesn’t count it involved food, his first true love.  When it comes to the human members of his family, any little thing is liable to set him off.  He’s constantly trying to bully Ty, falling out with Fefe, and lying to me.  Yes a 19 month old baby that knows how to lie (I’m compiling a list of his lies for a later post).  When it comes to Tank, Tre acts as his bodyguard or something, defender of all wrong doing against his dog. 

Let me give you an example, the other day Tank peed on the carpet.  He knows better, he’s been housebroken for over a year now and yet he decides to utilize my living room floor as his personal toilet.  Tre witnessed this event and unlike his older brother stuck to the ‘G’ code and didn’t say a word.  Ty was quick to let me know of Tanks bad behavior (he knows where his bread gets buttered).  So I yell at Tank, call him a bad dog and banish him to his cage.  After witnessing the scolding that was handed down, Tre gave me what looked like his best impression of “The Evil Eye of Death” and proceeded to fuss at me and anyone else that got in his way.

Here’s where it gets interesting.  After a few minutes of marching in protest of the unlawful treatment that his dog had received, he simmered down and things appeared to return to normal.  Little did I know, he was planning a good ole fashion jailbreak.  Cue “Mission Impossible” theme song now.  Tre waits until we are all settled and focused on reading a book with Ty.  He then proceeds to roll his “push me popper” toy into the kitchen, which just so happens to be the location of his incarcerated friend.  But, no one thought anything of it, as this is a normal part of his play routine.  It’s quiet for a moment so I ask “Tre, what are you doing?”  A quick, “Nothing” was shouted back.  Then I hear Tanks cage jingle, so I decide to head into the kitchen to investigate.  As Tre hears me coming, he quickly runs away from the cage towards his table as if he was starving and needed to be fed immediately.  So I play along, I give him some fruit & head back to the living room, this time keeping a close eye on him.  Immediately after I’m out of his eyesight, he gets up from the table and makes a dash towards Tanks cage.  This time I do no disturb and within seconds Tank comes running out of the kitchen. Tre is heading back to the table to eat his snacks as if he had done nothing wrong.

The escape was so well thought out and planned for a 19mnth old that I couldn’t get mad at Tre or Tank for that matter.  He stood up for what he believed in, devised a plan, and implemented it all in the name of friendship. He’s a loyal kid alright, just loyal to the wrong side!!!

Today is Tuesday, so be sure to check out our first installment of  Ty’s Tuesday Toy Review