I'm Having Visions!

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work to find the daughter folding her clean laundry as the boy puts the finishing touches on my filet mignon replaced outdated visions taking up space in my head.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.



It's What's For Dinner

Son: “Dad, what’s for dinner?”

Me: “Pork chops in a pineapple-glazed honey sauce with jasmine rice and edamame .”

Son: “AWWWWWW!!! NOOOO Dad!!! Aw come-on!! Can’t we have pizza?”

And that’s how our nights begin these days.

The kids love rice. They love honey. They love pineapple. And if you put a bowl of edamame in the middle of a room and unleash the little bastards they’ll literally fight to the death until it’s all gone.

Feeding edamame to them is like tying down a small child and throwing it into a room full of zombies. Yeah…like that.

But when you lovingly toss it all together on a plate, gleefully place it in front of the troops, stand back and wait for the overwhelming cheers…all we get is the kid’s version of Chef Ramsay.

“Dad! What the fuck is this you donkey? Come here…taste this! It’s crap dad! Crap!”

I absolutely love cooking. There’s nothing better than cranking the radio, pouring a full glass of red wine and knocking out a killer meal. But with the birth of two little rug-rats we’ve fallen victim to the lure of eating out.

Sitting at a table, having beer brought to you on demand without having to lift a finger while plates of goodness are brought is such a wonderful thing. But damn that’s expensive.

And sushi is…make that “was”…our weakness. We LOVE sushi!!! But damn it’s expensive.

The boy has to learn to eat food that costs less than $50 to create. The girl…well, she would eat chicken nuggets and chicken noodle soup until the world ended.

So, we’ve taken the old school “we used to walk to school uphill both ways” philosophy of parenting.

Last night we fed them pork chops. They tried it. They hated it. They went to bed with empty stomachs. And, yes…I showed them the trash can with their food in it and said, “daddy listened to a story on the radio today where a lady who struggles for food said a good day for her is when she gets half a glass of goat milk and cornmeal soup for the day.”

To help the message sink in further, maybe weekend we’ll take the boy to a soup kitchen.

I won’t categorize the experience as learning through guilt. Instead, I chalk it up as teaching through reality.

I’ll know I’m successful when he cleans his plate and then says, “dad, can we volunteer at the soup kitchen again this weekend?”

OK, now I’m dreaming. So I’ll lower my goals and just shoot for the clean plate.