I'm torn...

So yesterday Theo got in trouble for writing his name in permanent marker on the freshly painted bathroom walls at his school. In 8 inch lettering. My first reaction was to be really crushed under the weight of parenthood. But after soaking in that for a little while, I managed to step back and think about it more rationally. I mean, he's only 5, right? He was probably really pleased with himself for writing his name so well, in such huge letters, right?

After thinking about it for a while, I find myself torn between the urge to punish him for his egregious misstep and to give him a high five and singing out "Up the establishment! You go, my comrade!". Of course, we ended up having serious discussions about the right and wrong of it, during which he performed the ritual and expected contortions of contrition and understanding until we freed him up to go commit more mischief. I think the most important lesson I've managed to teach this boy is lesson #23 entitled "How to say the right things to a parent." coupled with lesson #54 which is "How to convince Mom and Dad that you completely understand whatever nonsense they're blathering about currently." This last lesson is actually an important corollary to lesson #3 which is "How to get back to doing things you want to do when parents want to talk."

He's really come a long way in the last few years. Soon he'll completely pass me by and will be adept at making me think I'm in charge. Then I'll mellow out, start to get shorter, lose some hair and eventually end up drooling in an old folks home where he'll come to visit me weekly, wipe that drool off my chin and tell me not to scribble THEO on the bathroom walls in 8 inch letters.

No backspace key day!

I had this cool idea for a new holiday to be celebrated at work across the country: No Backspace Day. The idea is that we all resolve to not use the backspace key in that day's electronic communication. So far this post has had no typos--I'm sure that will change any muniminute. damn.

Anyway, can you imagine the zany hijinks that would ensue? All the completely unreadable email...the emails to people where you start saying something, theink better of it and have to send it athat way anyways? Yowee!

Can I count you in?

He's still there!!

Last night I had this horrible dream about Theo. I'll leave all the embarrassing and stupid details, but suffice it to say I managed to lose him in a truck stop while driving cross country. The bulk of the dream was my frantic attempts to find him. The dream didn't ever resolve...I never found him. I woke up sweating and gasping and immediately went into his room where he was sleeping still. Thank goodness!

Of course, throughout the dream my sleeping mind managed to insert the obligatory cheerleaders, motorcycle chase and unexpected nakedness-embarassment. Oh. I was going to leave that stuff out, wasn't I?

This morning Riley crawled under Theo's bed out of reach and refused to come out. Little twerp. I took one look at the situation and decided to blindly ignore it. I guess in addition to being a crummy dad, I'm also a fairly lame husband too!

It is what it is!

My kid dropped a dime on me

Yesterday I got a note from Theo's kindergarten teacher. She wanted to let me know that Theo had said "Kick ass!" in class today, and when asked where he'd heard it he said gave me up. Ratted me out. My most pressing question was if he had used the term correctly, but I knew that asking that would only get me in deeper trouble.

So Theo and I had a long discussion about how some words were not ok to say. I told him when he got older he'd be able to decide for himself when a good time was to say those words. I then proceeded to itemize all the words and phrases he's not allowed to say. Ok, that's not true.

At first he started trying to convince me that some random kid in his class made him do it, but I wasn't having any. Then he wanted to know if this was a word he was allowed to say in his room with the door closed. I told him I'd prefer he didn't say it at all. This, of course, was unintended carte blanche to say it in his room with the door closed. Evidently 'prefer' means 'yes, go for it, champ!' in Theo's world. So we had the talk again and this time I laid it on heavier (if I EVER catch you saying that word, you'll be grounded for the remainder of your life).

Theo, of course, has no concept of what 'grounded' means. I'm a bad parent.