For those of you who have been reading my blog - you'll likely be aware of the fact that my son doesn't eat a wide variety of foods. If it's not bacon, pizza or pasta - odds are he won't touch it....and will likely go on a hunger strike until the offending morsel of food is removed from his plate.
Last night I happened to be at a friend's place for dinner. The friend is Enrico...and he's Italian - and man...can he ever through down a mean homemade za!
I won't bore you with the details about my visit to Enrico's place....not that it was boring, just not relevant to where this blog posting is going.
As I was preparing to leave (many hours later)...Enrico offered me the leftover food. I was stuffed as it was...but I thought that my son might enjoy it as a change from the usual pizza we make him at home.
So...this morning as we're getting him ready for school - and after Nicholas invited me to his Christmas Concert this evening (apparently he's singing John Lennon's Imagine)...I told him that I had a surprise for him.
"Oh boy! What is it?"
"Food."
"Food isn't a surprise - you give me that everyday!"
"But this is different food. It's homemade pizza imported from Mississauga!"
"Really? Let me see!"
So I grab the pizza from the fridge and start to unwrap the foil.
"Ohhhhhhh Daddy! That looks tasty....where'd you get it?"
"I told you - it's imported from Mississauga. Remember I went out last night for dinner? Well - I brought you something"
"Can I try it?"
"Ummm...yeah....that's the whole idea. Take a bite - and if you like it, you can take it to school for lunch"
"Are you kidding me?" My son seems to think that I can never be serious...not sure how that happened, but I don't question these things.
"No. I'm not kidding. Here...give 'er a whirl."
A little hand grabs a slice....and he starts to examine it.
"Hey....it's not cut in the correct slices. Are you sure this is pizza?"
"Yeah man - I'm pretty sure....look...there's cheese, and salami....and sauce and crust. Yeah - that would be pizza. I ate some last night....just because it wasn't round doesn't mean it isn't pizza."
"Hmmmm....well.....ok."
A bite is taken....
"Well little man? What's the verdict? Is it good stuff or what?"
"It's awesome daddy! Can I take it all to school?"
"You sure can little dude."
"Thanks Daddy....and thank Enrico for me too! And why don't you make pizza like this? You really should you know!"
Sigh...thanks Enrico - you screwed me again Pennypacker! :) Now I likely can't go to your place without the expectation that I'll be coming back with pizza in hand....good thing you've got that cool stove with the two ovens.
Our house has lots of rooms. Rooms for cooking, eating, doing laundry, sleeping (and other assorted activities!), tool stash, an office, a few bathrooms...and The Secret Room.
Yeah - that's right. Our house has a secret room. And before any of you start wondering what is happening in The Secret Room....no....there are no indoor 'tomatoes' or anything like that happening in there. Its just a room where there is an abundant stash of unopened toys....and a huge chest freezer.
And I mean a ton of toys. Many, many toys. So many toys that Toys 'R Us calls me when they run out of inventory. Yeah boys and girls - its a real scene in that room....let me tell ya! Why are there so many toys stashed away? My wife used to buy a lot of stuff when it was on sale....or stuff for kids party's....or stuff that Nicholas would get when he was old enough. Needless to say - she bought a lot of stuff. The only good thing about the secret room is that the inventory is diminishing, and the inflow has nearly stopped. We have likely given away several thousand dollars worth of brand new toys to various Children's Aid societies - so we feel pretty good about that.
Now....where was I?
Ah yes....the secret room. Well - the secret is out!
Or rather...my son has now mastered the anti-child device that used to keep him out of there. He know's what's in there....and he used to get real excited when we would bring him in to cash in his tokens for some new loot. [Nicholas is on the token system....good behaviour means he gets tokens....and the more tokens he has....the bigger the loot box he can cash it in for. Sort of like those arcades where you hand in your 8 tickets for some crappy plastic toy.....or 8,000 tickets for a slight larger crappy plastic toy].
The other day a little boy with a huge smile on his face comes cruising through the living room with a new box of Lego. He's happily humming to himself - and proceeds to plop himself down on the carpet to commence playing with his latest acquisition. He doesn't seem to get that if you're gonna pinch stuff....that it likely isn't a great idea to sit down and start playing with the stuff in front of the people most likely to say something about it. Guile isn't his thing.
"Ummmm Nicholas?"
"Yes Mommy?"
"Where did you get that toy?"
"Oh.....you know........"
"Actually no....I don't. Where did you get it?"
"I got it from the secret room!"
"How did you get in there?"
"Through the door."
"The door was left open?"
"Nope. I opened it myself. I'm a big boy - I can do that you know!"
I left the room at this point....I was trying not to laugh, and undermine what my wife was trying to do.
"Nicholas sweetie....you know the secret room is for Mommy and Daddy....and you can only go in when you're with one of us."
"Yeah - I know all that."
"So....why did you go in then?"
"To get this Lego set! See - isn't it cool?"
"But Nicholas.....there are rules that you need to obey and understand."
"Rules? I was really good at school this week - and I felt like rewarding myself!"
[At this point...there is a lot of laughter coming from the kitchen]
"Pipe down in there!!!"
"Now Nickels....you understand that we would prefer that you not go in there". [We're hiding stuff from Santa in there as well....as if he could tell the difference between old loot - and loot that is about to be wrapped]
"I know - but I needed a new toy. And look! Here it is!!! There's no need to get upset Mommy. I only took one....and I didn't make a mess at all. So it's really ok."
I hear a sigh....
"Ok Nicholas...you can have that set - but stay out from now on, or else Daddy will tell Santa!"
[Why am I the heavy? It isn't a role I play very well!]
"Okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Mommy"
"Thank you for listening Nickels.....I think"
It is around this time I hear the words:
"Hey Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad! You need to come here and help my put together this Lego set."
"Right on dude.....I'm totally there with ya!"
My wife rolls her eyes....she's living with two children it would seem - one is 7....the other is 37.
And besides - Daddy wanted to play with that set anyways.... :)
It finally snowed in Toronto. This is exciting news indeed!
Even more so if you're 7 years old.
The day got off to a slow start....Nicholas didn't get out of bed until 6:30AM. This is considered sleeping in.
At around the same time....a little voice calls up the stairs to the master bedroom (with en suite facilities no less)..."Hey Daaaaaaaaaad! Did it snow?"
I remain silent.
"Daaaaaaaaaaaad?"
I'm not saying a word...I refuse to get out of bed until 6:45AM. That's my rule, and I'm sticking too it. The house could be burning down...I don't care. There is no reason for any human being to be up and about before 6:45AM.
Nicholas is not liking that I'm not out of bed yet....so he decides to come upstairs and offer some....encouragement?
"Hey Daddy! Did it snow? Did it?? Come on....you neeeeeeeed to look out the window and tell me".
"You've got eyes dude....go look yourself!"
"Fine then. I will!"
I'm hoping that that'll be the end of it....he'll see that it snowed, and then I can enjoy my last 7 minutes in bed.
No such luck.
"Daddy!!! It did snow! Oh this is so wonderful! We have to go outside now!!"
"Uh uh little man....Daddy ain't going outside. I'm old - and it's cold!"
"You're not thaaaaaaat old. Come on, come on....you can do it!"
So I get out of bed. Nicholas starts handing me clothes to put on....and then he drags me downstairs. My socks don't match right now in case anyone is interested. Matching socks matter not when there's snow to be played in.
I go to the front door and see that yes indeed - it had snowed. How lovely. It isn't even good fluffy white snow....it's that rain laiden crap that is a pain to shovel - and that can't be used for decent snowballs. I'm not interested any longer in the snow.
But my son is.
He's busy running around getting his coat on...and trying to find his boots. He actually thinks I'm going outside in the cold and dark? Silly man. That ain't gonna happen.
I mention that he can play in the snow when he gets to school. He announces that he is in fact NOT going to school....and that he is going to stay home so that he can play in the snow.
"No way dude. They have snow at school. My taxes dollars ensure that they do."
A little argument ensues....at which point I just tell him to get his stuff on and go play in the backyard. He is totally into it...he think's he's won.
He has his stuff on in record time....and he's out in the backyard. He threw a snowball at the window (a few times I might add), he pulled his wagon around....and then he made snow angels.
The fact that it was raining didn't seem to bother him. The fact that I could barely see him in the dark was not an issue at all....his boots have those little red LED lights on them. It's kind of funny to not be able to actually see your kid....but know where his feet are at any given moment.
So this is great! He's outside getting soaked. And I'm inside making bacon....looking out the window periodically.
Getting him inside is another matter. He wasn't into it.....and another 'discussion' takes place. I won that one. And then I had to throw his mittens, hat and coat into the dryer....he was soaked.
And of course - while I'm downstairs doing all that....the bacon was stolen.
He was quite the happy little dude this morning. Got to play in the snow...and pinched bacon - and all before 7:30AM. He even went to school without any further 'discussions'.....
Sure hope they have snow there....I told him there would be. :)
I don't understand.
It's December right? That special month of the year when all the little boys and girls of the world try and behave...and make up for the 11 months of torment they've just put their parents through.
Well - something is not working this year.
This year, even with Nicholas still totally buying the Santa Claus story...and the fact that I have Santa's 800 number, email address and cell phone number, he's just not really into the month of penance for the loot.
Since the tree went up last weekend, I have been woken up early on several occasions due to Christmas related mishaps.
- The wonderful sound of glass ornaments being dropped onto the floor at 5AM....and then the little tinkle crinkle sounds that are made as my son breaks the pieces into even smaller pieces. Gotta feed that vacuum!
- The incessant singing of the 12 Days of Christmas....again - shortly after 5AM.
- A search and destroy mission looking for some Christmas VHS tape. Yes - our VCR player still works - and gets use!
- The pinching of Daddy's nose so that is glows red.
Ominous threats of calling Santa at home with updates of transgressions have little effect. Other than, "Oh Daddy - you're just being silly. Santa's too busy to talk to you."
Repeated warnings that Santa is always watching merely garner replies like, "Daddy? It's December you know...Santa is much too busy getting my toys ready to actually have time to watch me!"
I know Nicholas still believes. He wasn't all that impressed when I lit a fire in the fire place just a few days ago. "Daddy!!! What are you doing? Santa can't come down here when the fire is going! You need to put it out!".
Never mind the fact that there were still at least 20 shopping days left before the Santa's arrival. (Suble hint there gentle reader....17 days left to buy me something nice! I'm an easy fit...but please - no more shirts or watches...I have too many as it is. I need socks. Damn....I actually aged just typing that.). Or donate to your local Autism Society Chapter.
And when he says those things, in that adorable little adult voice that he has....it just makes me laugh. Likely because I suspect that this is the last year that Santa will be revered...his blackmail power is certainly fading - or maybe Nicholas just doesn't think I actually have the guy's cell phone number?
But I do....
1-800-Ho-Ho-Ho! If you dial that number...and you get some female on the phone - I am not paying the $6.99 a minute charge that is likely to appear on your phone bill. But let me know what she said....I've been good this year! ;)
Sometimes you hear your child say something that helps put life in perspective.
Heard in my son's room after putting him down for the night.
"Daddy? How can I repay you?"
"Repay me for what Nicholas?"
"For being the best Dad in the whole world!"
"You just did - and thank you Nicholas.....good night!"
"Good night Daddy. I love you".
"I love you to dude....now go to sleep - and please....stay in bed".
"Ok!"
And he did! :)
As with many of my blogs posts....an event transpired in the very early hours of the morning. Good times!
Have you ever read, "The Night Before The Night Before Christmas"?
I have. Once.
Or rather - it was read to me by my son last night.
That's how bed time goes these days - I don't get to read anymore. I get to listen. And I'm not supposed to make silly little character voices either. Or so I've been told by management....
So...last night - Nicholas reads me the story....and then he starts to ask questions about our Christmas tree. Most namely being ' "Where is it?"
Nicholas somehow got it in his head that if we didn't put the tree up...NOW!...then Santa just wouldn't stop by our house. I tried to show him on the calender that there are still 22 days left until Santa is supposed to pop by - and that we're all good for now. I even promised to set the tree up this weekend.
Not good enough.
It has to be now!!!
Not later!
After much disagreement on the subject of when the tree is going up - a deal was extracted from me. That's how it works around here as well. My son and I debate something - back and forth endlessly....and when he see's Daddy isn't buying it - he pulls a Monty Hall.
"Ok Daddy! Here's the deal......."
Oh - this should be really good!
"You go to sleep....and this weekend we'll put the tree up!"
I agree - this is a great deal. And what I wanted anyways.....
My son is not known for living up to his end of the deal.
At precisely 5:11AM I hear the four words that strike fear into my heart:
"Hey Daddddddddy! Get up!"
"No! Go away!" replies a rather grouchy father.
"It's today - and that means its time to put the tree up"
I'm lying there, trying to figure out how he got that it's now the weekend. It damn well isn't. It's Thursday. Gonna be Thursday for the entire day when you come think about it. But the weekend...it most certainly is not.
I roll over - hoping against hope that Nicholas will either go away....or at least go and harass his mother - who happens to be now more than 2 feet away of the other side of the bed.
"Daddddddddddddyyyy!!!!"
Rolling over doesn't work. It just results in having your blankets forcibly removed from the bed.
"Fine dude. Let's go get the tree happening. BUT - just so you know....Santa isn't impressed with you waking me up so early....so don't expect a whole helluva lot of loot under the tree this year."
"Oh Daddy. You're just kidding. Now stop fooling around and go get the tree from the secret room."
"Ok sucka...but you have to come and help"
My son than makes a noise that can best be described as a squeal of delight. I have no idea how to spell the sound he made....sounded like a good time though!
My son then takes my hand....and walks me all the way though the house....into the basement, past the dungeon......along the dark enchanted hallway....until we reach....The Secret Room (no big secret really...its just the room with the freezer....and all the unopened toys that he has yet to get. We don't let him in there).
I open the door to The Secret Room....and I grab a small bag of ornaments. I tell Nicholas to grab the big box with the tree and haul it upstairs. He actually tried to move it....and he was making a go of it - until he said, "Nope! Too heavy for me....you better carry it!"
I do.
We get the box upstairs, and we start taking bits of fake tree out of the box (that was made in China).
I am the master of the artificial tree!
I can assemble one of those mothers in under three minutes....at which point - I decide that there is no point going back to bed. My son is happy with the tree action - and I have further elevated my God like stature in his eyes. It was really nice to hear "Thank you Daddy"....without my prompting him.
I'll always get out of bed for something like that.....because in a few short years - I won't be cool at all. I'll just be that crabby guy with little to no hair who yells at the neighbour's cat to get off his ride. Uh oh....I think I might already be there.
