Well, truthfully…three years ago I wanted to make love to the inventor of 1-2-3 Magic.
It saved our asses from many many a bad habit. But I have to admit…we never actually read it. We just read the title and immediately said, “oh shit we’ve got this down pat. You say one…then two…and if they haven’t stopped by three they’re in time out. Let’s do this!!!!”
And, low-and-behold, with just the quick, yet stern, announcement of the number “one” children within our household would immediately stop the madness.
Then, their tiny little minds started developing. They moved from just barely being able to walk, to flying around corners, to kicking the cat when you weren’t looking, to trying to open your bedroom door while you and the Mrs. were making whoopie.
That’s when they realize, “why in the hell am I stopping at one? I have a whole other second to continue my madness right in front of my parents and get away with it!”
And so we watched as the daughter gave our boy a wedgie as we slowly counted, “one!!!!!.....two!!!!!!” and by then everything she’d come here to do had been accomplished.
So…we did what we imagined the book would strongly recommend…we sped-up our counting. The numbers one and two quickly became one word, “Grayson!!! Onetwo…”
“Daddy you didn’t even pause between the numbers!!! That’s no fair!!!”
Then it dawned on me. My kids are about to be six and eight-year-old. I shouldn’t be 1-2-3 Magicing their asses. They should respect and obey me damn it!!!
So, I downed a beer, slammed the empty to the ground, and called a family meeting.
“Kids!,” I said as I put my arm around the wife to seem as though we were united in this epic announcement. “No more 1-2-3!! From now on, if you don’t do what we say the first time, you go to your rooms without toys. Your mother and I stand firm on this. Now….be-gone and go be children!”
3.8 seconds later the boy was the first to challenge this new rule by standing between his sister and the TV. It was at that very second that I realized how engrained 1-2-3 had become in my life. And it was at that very second I wanted to set a date for my first of a dozen 1-2-3 Magic book-burning parties.
I couldn’t count anymore. I just simply had to lay the law down and end it.
But I catch myself all the time wanting to count to stop things that annoy me.
Behind a slow-ass driver on the interstate – “move damn it!!!! One!!! Two!!!!”
Trying like hell to get my insanely fast and agile puppy to come to me at 11 p.m. at night – “Marty HERE!!!! HERE MARTY!!!! One!!! Two!!!!”
The wife hoping that I last at least three seconds tonight – “OK honey, you ready to start? You can do this. I know you can. I believe in you. OK…GO!!!! One….tw….oh honey it’s OK, it happens to everyone.”
So, yeah! I never read the book. And I used to believe in the awesomeness of its title and what it did for our beloved family.
But now, I’ve come to realize 1-2-3 isn’t “Magic,” it’s a freakin’ “Lifestyle!” And I really really miss it.
