It’s starting to happen.
The boy is getting the taste of the tragic disease which doctors call the “I’M NOT LISTENING” syndrome. What does it stand for?
The horrific I’M NOT LISTENING syndrome is an acronym for “I May Not Open These Listening Instruments So Try Elling Nomeone Ielse Noure Guff!” (screw you!!! I tried to come up with an explanation for the acronym but damn all those n’s and ending with a g!!! Think you can do better? Leave it in the comments!!!)
Anyway, the I’M NOT LISTENING syndrome is basically where a kid, usually a teenager, completely, totally and blatantly ignores and defies your commands whilst in a public arena.
As with most kids these days, the syndrome seems to be hitting kids at a younger age. And…well, our boy has been infected.
It first starts out with him ignoring your first request while looking at the other adults for approval remarks that tell him "yes…yes I am being a bad-ass."
All it takes is one misread gesture and it all goes downhill from there.
You want examples don’t you?
Standing with a group of neighbors enjoying the afternoon, a few beers and riveting conversation when all of a sudden the boy decides it would be genius to show the world his razor like precision of a soccer ball kick in our direction.
Me: “Grayson! Please don’t kick the ball in our…”
*The ball goes flying and I stop it mere inches from destroying the face of a neighbor.
Me: “Seriously Grayson!!! Really!!?! Come on, you know better.”
*As he launches ball #2 towards the group nailing the wife in the butt.
Me: “Grayson!!! Do you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, son!!?!”
The Boy: “Can I have the balls back? I want to kick them again?”
Me: “You must be insane!!!”
The Boy: “What? It’s just soccer.”
Me: “I told you twice to not kick them at us and you didn’t listen and kicked them anyway.”
*Two minutes later ball #3 slams into my back causing me to drop my beer. I turn with “that look” and the boy takes off in a sprint that would make Hussein Bolt look like a chump.
Me: “Grayson, go brush your teeth.”
*The boy plays with the dog.
Me: “Grayson…seriously man! Go brush your teeth for bed!”
*The boy glances at dinner guests in the next room sipping their wine, then continues to play with the dog.
Me: “You know I know where you sleep right? You know that there’s no way you could possibly stay awake longer than me EVER! Right!!?!”
*The boy talks over me calling for the dog to do a trick.
Me: “You know you’ve told me the girl you think is cute in your class and I could rat you out with one simple little Facebook posting right?”
The Boy: “Love you dad! Goodnight! I’m off to go brush my teeth!”
And that’s my new weapon against the syndrome. “Humiliation.”
I didn’t just spend eight years of my life wiping his butt, picking his boogers, and cleaning his puke just to raise a delightful well-rounded boy.
No, I did it so I could have a life-time of memories which could be used against him at the right moment to get what I want!! In this case…it’s to get him to do what I say the first time.
So stand back Grayson, daddy’s going to win this public war.
Go ahead, ignore me when I ask if you to brush your teeth or go put your shoes on. I just might have a picture of you reading a book while sitting on the baby shitter in the playroom.
Bring it on buddy!!