I came home yesterday to all hell breaking loose at the house.
Son: “But mommy I really really want one!”
Wife: “I know you do Grayson. We will probably get you one, so relax.”
Daughter: “Well if Grayson gets an animal I want a cat and I’ll keep it in my room and it’ll be all mine.”
Wife: “You can’t keep a cat in your little room all the time Macy.”
Daughter: “But MOOOMMMYYYY, Grayson gets to keep a hamster in his room, why can’t I keep a cat in mine?”
That’s when it all clicked in my head what was happening.
Me: “Whoa whoa whoa!! No one’s getting any animals. We have a cat and that’s plenty!!”
And then the water works started, followed by high pitched whining flavored with hardcore disappointment.
My son’s best buddy at school has a hamster. So naturally my son HAS to have one. And somehow, when I was away from the house for more than five minutes yesterday, my wife’s ability to slam any thoughts that another furry beast might enter this home permanently became weak. Our kids were breaking her quickly.
Me: “Grayson, what is it you want to get?”
Son: “Oh…daddy, it’s a teddy bear hamster. It’s really furry and really cute and it has long fuzzy hair all over it and I want it so badly daddy. I will take such good care of it and will name it Ted.”
Daughter: “And if Grayson gets a hamster mommy said I could buy two new Zhu Zhu pets!”
This is the point where I look at the wife with a “what in the holy hell are you thinking woman” look on my face.
Wife: “Don’t look at me like that. I pretty much promised Grayson he could have one.”
Me: “But we already have cat shit to clean up. We have a fish in the boy’s room that refuses to die. And now we’re gonna have a small animal that needs it’s wood shred thingies changed, food, water and the boy’s gonna let it get lose at least once and the cat will try to eat it and I’m already freakin’ exhausted….”
Wife: “Pipe-down childhood ruiner and quit over exaggerating. I had two as a kid and loved it. Let the boy have this.”
Me: “Whatever… I’m gonna need you to sign this document nullifying any and all involvement I might have in handling, touching, cleaning, observing, chasing, smelling, acknowledging, petting, and any other word ending in “ing” that might involve Bob crossing paths with my daily life.”
Wife: “His name’s Ted idiot-boy. Get it right.”