Grayson: “OK Daddy!! Geeeze!!!”
That’s the shit I’ve been hearing religiously these days.
All it takes is me telling the boy for the second time to please put his shoes on so we can take him to school.
Or to please take a bite of his cereal that’s been sitting there for the past 10 minutes.
Or to stop telling his 5-year-old sister that he knows she’s lying about the fact she dreamt about a unicorn and when she woke up it was standing in her room.
It’s contagious as hell too. Yesterday the wife happened to catch me walking naked to the bathroom so she immediately threw what she was carrying to the ground and screamed, “fine – let’s do this, let’s just knock it out – geeeeze!!!”
The life of a 7-year-old can be so hard, having to always feel entitled enough to throw-down in a split second claiming you’re owed so much more than what you’re getting.
The boy honestly believes the world is against him these days.
Grayson: “What’s for dinner tonight daddy?”
Me: “Hamburgers chief. Hamburgers, salad and corn-on-the-cob. Good eats my man!”
Grayson: “Awwww come on daddy!! You know I don’t like hamburger…geeeze”
At this point he’s walking out of the room like I told him I was going to run over his bike, kill his fish, and smash all is trophies.
Me: “Grayson…seriously? It’s hamburger. What kid doesn’t want a nice, juicy organic meat hamburger? I’ll even throw some cheese on that bad boy for ya!”
Grayson: “Can’t we have sushi?”
Me: “Seriously? Really Grayson, sushi? Are you buying? We can’t afford that Monsieur! Would you like some champagne with your meal?”
Grayson: “STOP DADDY!!! Not everyone likes the same thing!! Macy likes hamburger, I like sushi! GEEEZE!!!”
I don’t know what the solution is.
We put the smack-down on the boy from ever saying “geeeze” ever again. We’ve told him the world is not holding a major conference in downtown Chicago under the theme “How To Make Grayson’s Life Unfair, Unjust and Just Down Right Sucky.”
He’s a work in progress…like the girl…like the wife…like myself…like the blow-up doll in my basement that still wants me to take her out for dinner before we “get it on.”
A work in progress…
