I got a glimpse of what life could possibly be like with kids who actually do things around the house.
I was making hamburgers for the family to shove down their throats when I thought, “I should totally ask the boy if he wants to learn how to grill.”
Seeing as every dude is born with the small molecule called “if it involves a flame and eatable flesh count me in,” I figured the boy would answer with a resounding “yes!”
“YES!!” he yelled! I was right.
As I stood there watching him flip the burgers, astonished that he’d managed to not combust into a screaming pile of flames, a small beam of hope crept through my body causing a smile to appear across my face.
Visions of me coming home from work to find the daughter folding her clean laundry as the boy puts the finishing touches on my filet mignon replaced outdated visions taking up space in my head. Visions of strippers saying “no silly, you don’t need to pay us, these dances are on the house,” left my brain to make room for my expanding perfect children scenario.
My smile got larger as I imagined sitting on my lawn chair drinking an ice cold beer as the boy mowed the lawn while the daughter watered the plants.
Next thing I knew my children were suddenly wearing delightfully clean and proper clothes. The boy in his blue trousers and sporty ironed shirt was asking, “Father? Would you like another beer?”
My overly helpful daughter clad in a stunning full-length sundress bursts from the door announcing, “no need, I have already fetched one for him. Here you are father!!”
And that’s when I notice my perfectly prim helpful children were speaking with English accents.
Blood was flowing through my body like a young teenager sneaking a peek at his mother’s friend’s cleavage.
I had convinced myself in a matter of 1.5 minutes that by simply supervising my son’s first attempt at grilling hamburgers I was altering time and setting into motion the very events that would turn my children…PERFECT!
I was a freakin’ genius and I had to tell someone immediately!!
Grabbing my beer I flew open the back door, found my loving wife, and quickly explained the awesomeness that was the perfect children formula I just created.
Her response?
“So where is your perfect son right now Mr. Genius?”
“OH SHIT! The grill!!” I screamed running to the backyard hoping I didn’t see my vision of brilliance literally going up in flames.
I didn’t.
Instead I found the boy catching fire flies while our delicious dinner transformed into hard, black, round weapons of mass destruction.
“Grayson?! What happened to dinner dude?”
The boy stopped, thought for a second, then said, “But you like to cook daddy.”
It was at that moment that I finally realized that I’m a total idiot and that I will forever be stuck serving my precious little children.
But, at least I still had my stripper vision.
