Tag: Adam

My favorite parenting moments often turn out like this…

I’m sitting at the table on a lazy Sunday morning, reading the paper on my trusty PowerBook, when Adam comes galloping over with a great big grin… and woofing like Blue (of Blue’s Clues fame). He climbs up on the chair next to me and sticks out his tongue, like he’s going to give me a great big happy hello, canine style. After I politely refuse the gesture, he sneezes.

Before I have a chance to say anything my energetic two-year-old says, “bless me daddy.”

Indeed.

Have you ever known a child to enjoy washing his or her hands too much? I’m not a regular on the parenting circuit so I can’t claim to be an expert; but I can tell you it’s a 50/50 proposition in our modest household. Our daughter exhibits many of the signs of phobia. She has little time for cleaning, and little use for clean hands. I didn’t think much of this… I always thought this was the norm.

Then we had a little boy.

Adam is a walking contradiction. Compared to Beth’s hands, Adam’s look like a superfund site. We have the EPA on speed dial so they can check the bath water… to make sure it’s safe to release into the sewer system. His penchance for soiling not withstanding, he’s a consummate hand washer. Now that he’s learned the intricacies of the standard bearer of personal privacy – the door knob – he’s become quite familiar with a knob of another kind: the one adjacent to the faucet in the bathroom.

A few weeks ago my wife had a brilliant idea.

“John, could you get a couple of foot stools at Target the next time you’re there?”

“Why?”

“I want Adam to start washing his own hands.”

Measured solely by comparing pre- and post- stool handwashing frequency – it’s been a smashing success.

It’s also got me thinking… how hard would it be to install a drain in the middle of our bathroom floor?

Anyone who’s taken a high school physics class is familiar with potential energy; which is important because potential energy is le metaphor du jour. Tonight we made a discovery in the Kauffman Household… the existence of potential irony. This form of irony has the potential to change the perception of other objects around it. For example… consider dishwashing detergent. On it’s own, dishwashing detergent is an agent of clean… of hygiene… of pristine. Now imagine a bottle of generic dishwashing detergent on a kitchen counter, with a two-year-old child skulking around the house carrying a folding chair.

Friends, what happens when this child finds that the bottle of dishwashing detergent is within his reach when standing on the aforementioned folding chair? Would it be fair to call this “kinetic irony?”

We here at the Kauffman Institute of Parenting will need to get back with you on that.

Here’s a helpful hint from your friendly neighborhood parent… never bend over to speak to a hyperactive child. God made parents tall for a reason… to keep their heads away from their children’s.

Take it from my wife… you want to keep the more fleshy parts of the body between your head and their’s. Even a shin takes a head-butt better than a chin.

“Daddy, I need a pillow.”

“Why Adam?”

“Why not daddy?”

Having kids is a lesson in equal opportunity, taken to extremes. Take this evening (please). First, Adam is happy with his bowl of Crock-Pot special (mommy and daddy’s diner of choice). Enter Beth, with her bowl of specially prepared, left-over Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Sooner than you can say, “mommy, mommy,” Adam was out of his chair in search of greener pastures.

Since we are parents of questionable metal, we prepared a fresh bowl of left-over Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for Adam. Enter Beth with her cup of orange juice. Sooner than you can say, “Adam don’t throw your macaroni,” the boy was up in arms over his drink selection. Going back to the issue of metal… Adam gets his cup of OJ. But of course it’s not in the right kind of cup… so we put it in a cup with a built-in straw, like Beth’s… but of course it’s not the same color as Beth’s… so we find Adam’s OJ mixed in a bowl with his freshly prepared, left-over Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Long after we should have turned to an alternate strategy… Adam finds himself finished with dinner…

Faster than you can say, “shower time.”

This morning Adam was angry about being abandoned by his mother. Cheryl and Beth snuck out early to hit Busch Gardens for a little mother daughter bonding. They left Adam in the clutches of the evil daddy, who had no desire for a return engagement with the full pull of Adam’s mass.

Adam demanded to see his mommy and wasn’t going to do anything until he got his way, including eating breakfast.

Who knew two year olds came with a built-in understanding of a hunger strike?

Yesterday my son and I were settling into our Friday evening routine, consisting of a daddy on the floor doing his best impression of a jungle gym. I was lying on the floor, when Adam decided to go old-school WWF on me. I didn’t know he could jump, let alone jump backwards, but facing the opposite direction he jumped backwards from a standing position, pulled his knees up and drove his but into the soft tissue of my abdomen.

Holy crap that hurt!