Baby Daddy 50: My Son Lost His Virginity

I know, I know, I know. I KNOW! I keep saying that I am back, and then I disappear. I apologize. Shit has been crazy and I have not managed well. In fact, I developed a nasty little addiction. Not drugs, per se, but caffeine. I got to a point that I was drinking coffee throughout the day and night.

At one point, I was drinking liquor and NyQuil to take the edge off and sleep. I had enough caffeine in my system to rival a small cocaine addiction. It wasn't full-blown coke, but maybe diet coke? All I know is that I am coming down and can't tell if I need to sleep or rip my skin off.

In other news, I am still a father!! And what's more, I have had some new experiences as a father! One experience is that my son is officially "behind" in his communication development. If you compare my son to other kids his age (20-ish months), he is incredibly behind. There is a girl in his pre-school class, Jenny, who is only two months older. Jenny can talk and listen and all that shit.

As a side note, my son was crying once when I got him from school. I don't know why he was upset, but I saw Jenny walk over to him, pat him on the shoulder, and say, "There, there." In that moment, my heart broke and I realized that she would be my future daughter-in-law. It was adorable.

But I digress. My son is technically behind in speech. My son is also learning English, Chinese, Hebrew, Yiddish, Spanish, and Russian. I think he should get a pass for not speaking much. At the same time, my son has said words like glove, lamb, okay, whisper, hazard, yellow, wei, wen ci ji qi ren, mama, baba, hot, etc. This has led me to the conclusion that my son is perfectly capable of talking -- he just doesn't want to.

I fully believe that, when we ask questions, my son refuses to talk. "What is this?" Nothing. "Can you say ____?" Nothing. "What do you want?" Nothing. As soon as we leave the room, my son starts talking (in Barack Obama's voice), "Four score and seven years ago, I had a dream. A dream in which all people -- large and small, short and tall, old and young, of every race or faith or orientation or identity -- could watch as much Story-Bots as their heart desires WITHOUT the tyranny of a nap or bedtime."

And why is it in Obama's voice? Because goddamn could that man talk well. And goddamn do I miss that man as president. He may have had his flaws, but holy shit. At least Obama wasn't openly laughed at and fucked with at international summits. And if you are reading this and don't like the political commentary then fuck off, yeah? If Trump does something worth praise, I will. Until then, fucks for him.

But that is not the reason for this post. The reason for this post is that my son has lost his innocence. And what's more, he doesn't even know.

But how can that be? After all, he's a baby. And I'm not in jail. WHAAAAAA?!

Let me explain. We had family friends visit for the start of Chanukah. We LOVE these friends. At the same time, they have a dog. In fact, they have a little boy dog. Fortunately, that little boy dog was neutered; we figured everything would be fine.

We were wrong. As it turns out, that dog has never been around a bunch of people. It also turns out that the little boy dog has never been around another dog. This is problematic, when the little boy dog and the family friends were staying with my folks and their dog.

Nobody knew it, but it turns out that the little boy dog has an anxiety disorder. How did we find out? Because he started humping. Everything. My mom was wearing socks, until the little boy dog humped a sock off her foot. I was setting up the menorah to light candles, when I noticed my right leg getting scratched.

Of course, these were not the initial cases of the little boy dog humping. No, that would have been tolerable. The initial humping incident occurred when my son was crawling on his belly, reaching for a block. I looked down, and saw the little boy dog humping the shit out of my son's ribs. My son, blissfully unaware, was reaching for the block. I reacted calmly by yelling, "FUCK OFF TOBY!"

Of course, the family friends were shocked and embarrassed. They grabbed the little boy dog and held him for the rest of the day. Not well enough to keep the little boy dog from humping everyone else in the family, but enough to keep the dog from FUCKING MY SON! For my part, I did not fucking murder the dog. That is how much I care for these friends. I did not kill the dog that humped my son. My mother left the room so that she could react in private. And the family prayed that everything would just magically be "okay".

Well I have news for you Karen, IT IS NOT OKAY!!!! Your little boy dog HUMPED MY SON!!!! He is not even TWO YEARS OLD!!!! WHAT THE SHIT, KAREN?! WHAT. THE. SHIT.

Moral of the Story: I am still nursing a caffeine addiction, and my son has a dream. I, too, have a dream; in it, I do not witness my son losing his virginity to a dog.

Baby Daddy 49: Talking Shit and Bags of Dicks

IT'S OCTOBER!!!!!!

I have taken so long to post that I thought it was 2019. With that said, I am posting this shit before I forget. You know, there are few things I love more than absurdity in public. Another thing I like is profanity in public. Admit it you. There is something gratifying when you see a situation, think "damn that sucks", and suddenly hear the person in the situation say, "damn that sucks." It's great!

Well boy has it been an exciting time. First, I want to share a special experience that happened with my family. You see, my son goes to preschool on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. I have night classes on Wednesday, from 5pm until 10pm. That means that on Wednesday, I do not get to see my son much. To help with this, my folks offered to take care of the kiddo on Wednesdays. The premise is simple. They pick him up, play with him, bring him to my office for lunch, and take him home. During that time, my wife works and I get to see the kiddo.

Well, a few weeks ago, my folks came across a book: Toddlers Are Assholes. And in this book, you get a very candid view of parenthood. Imagine the Baby Daddy series in book form. Now imagine it longer, and let me know if you would buy it. If so, I'll print it. But I digress.

In that book, however, the author uses special language. At one point they suggest that someone (a neighbor?) can eat a giant bag of dicks. Of course, I'm sitting in a car and I read this out loud, and my folks hear it. They have my sense of humor, and my mother starts laughing her ass off. My father, who is standing outside of the car, says, "What?"

So I repeat my self, "...a giant bag of dicks."

"A bag of what?"

"Dicks."

"What?"

"DICKS!!!"

Yes, my father was struggling to hear and I ended up yelling "DICKS" as loud as I could. Judging from the stares people shot our direction, I don't think they appreciated the humor as much. I know my mother didn't, as she slowly leaned the seat back to avoid being seen.

BUT!

That is not the purpose of this story! The purpose of this story is that we are working to help my son talk! We think he is pretty damn close to talking, and we are trying to give him that extra nudge. Yesterday, I decided to take him with me to the clinic. Now, that alone was harmless. He made it 90 minutes into a two hour wait, before he lost patience. Even so, that was okay. One woman judged me for letting the kid throw a phone that had an Otterbox case. She said I was, "reinforcing bad habits". I figure he made it 90 goddamn minutes without running away, stealing other people's shit, or screaming. If he wants to throw a phone - particularly one that I am okay with him throwing - then that woman can kindly fuck off. Plus, he didn't throw it in the water...

But that STILL is not what I am writing about. I am writing about the fact that we are trying to get my son to talk more. In particular, he decided to climb up on a chair and sit down. That's reasonable. I then did what seemed like a reasonable thing, and said "sit". That makes sense, right? He sat down, I said "sit", he would start to know that what "sit" means. What I did not expect was for him to try to repeat the word. Or the fact that he has not mastered the "sss" sound. That's right, he uses "sh" for the "sss" sound. And in that one moment, the entire waiting area heard my son say "shit".

Now most parents would have been mortified. Not me, though. I started laughing. Do you know why? One, it's funny. He said "shit", people looked, and I laughed. They looked at me, and I laughed harder. The other reason why I laughed? Because I know he didn't learn that shit from me. Anyone who knows me knows that I almost exclusively us the word "fuck". In fact, I love the word "fuck" so much that I want to create a dictionary of colorful uses for the word "fuck". Not just any dictionary, but a coloring book dictionary! "Color in with Colorful Language". That sounds like a fantastic tagline. And for the special release, everyone gets a bag of dicks.

Moral of the Story: My father couldn't hear me yell "DICKS" across the parking lot. My son said "shit", and I laughed. Oh, and I have my next big marketing idea.