Diary of a Stay At Home Dad: Crazy crap my kid says vol. 5

As Frank’s ability to construct sentences improves over time so does the crazy that comes out of his mouth.  A lot of it is probably only funny to us, and by us I mean me.  One thing that is very different between me and Tracy – our sense of humor, especially when it comes to the stuff Frank says.

So for your comical judgment I offer Volume 5 of the crazy crap my kid… well I guess I have to be specific now that we have two, the crazy crap Frank says.  Although I imagine a lot of you would realize Anne Marie is a little young to be speaking and if she could speak I would like to think she would have more to offer than the following gems from Frank.

 

Yeah that’s about right.

That’s very dangerous.   For whatever reason out of nowhere Frank has decided he can’t like getting his diaper changed.  He used to have no problem with it, now it’s a chore.  He’s tried every gambit he can think of to keep it from happening.  His latest effort – propaganda.

One day I see him heading down the hall and his diaper was hanging off the back of his front, making him look like a WWII fighter pilot heading to his aircraft.  You may have seen some pictures.  In the old days pilots wore their chute and it was slung low. They sat on it while they were flying.

Frank’s diaper was slung so low it looked like he was suited up and ready to take to the skies.  I said, “hey Frank looks like you need a diaper change bud.”  He says, Oh no I can’t like that. That’s very dangerous.  

He wasn’t kidding this time though.  He really punished that diaper.  However his attempt at psychological warfare not withstanding, he got a new chute.

Photo courtesy of www.aviation-art.net

Where’s my hat?  This after he saw me laying out the lines to rebuild our deck.  He’s said he wanted to help.  He was stunned when I said he could.  I suggested he could be like Bob the Builder. He’s started to watch that a little bit.  Of all the responses I was imagining, Where’s my hat? wasn’t in the top 20.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  The only time he wears a hat is when we go to the golf course. What made this funny to me was the matter of factness to it all.  It felt like he was saying, Ok let’s get to work, Where’s my hat.  He then started searching for a hat.

Probably would have made more sense if I had actually watched an episode of Bob the Builder.  Bob always wears a hard hat.  Who knew?

Now I have to get Frank a hardhat so he can help.  He is a good tool holder.  But once he hears the circular saw rev up the first time he’ll most likely run to hide in his closet. That’s a two for one in my book.  I didn’t say no and he’s not under foot.  Daddy for the win!

 

I want some food!   Gone are the days of Frank wanting cheeseburgers or crackers for his mouth – stuff he used to ask for at three in the morning.  He’s no longer choosey with his menu items.  Now I get a general, I want food and you can figure out what I want. He’s still not hard to please, he eats just about anything.  It was just more fun when he would ask for something specific for his mouth.

 

He needs a bottle!   Still working on those pronouns, as he is referring to his little sister.  He’s not doing this out of concern for his sister.  I usually get this demand when she starts crying during Little Einsteins marathons on Disney Jr. and he can’t hear the TV.

 

That’s too fast!  I caught him messing with the speed setting on his sisters swing.  We found, through trail and error in the NICU, that the fastest speed is a side to side motion. It works best for her reflux.  Moving that fast is really the only way she’ll be calm when sitting in her swing.  Of course there’s always a chance we’re just sloshing around her brain pan too much and all she can do is sit there in a stupor, who knows?  Anyway I come into the living-room and Frank is pushing buttons.  I asked what he was doing and instead of acting like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar he started to admonish me.  That’s too fast daddy!   He was adamant.

All of a sudden I’m explaining myself to my 3 year old like he’s an undercover child protection services agent.  He would accept no explanation either.  After about 10 seconds of babbling I got hold of myself and told him to leave it alone.  As he’s walking away he mutters, It’s too fast.  Maybe he is concerned for her after all.

 

I’m a ballerina!  I got this after I witnessed him spinning around and around with his arms out.  I asked him what he was doing.  His gleeful response came a millisecond after I asked.  Which is a minor miracle.  Normally you have to put him under the hot lamp to get him to answer any question. But not this time.  He was more than happy to tell me how he was a ballerina.  Not that there is anything wrong with that, but is there any money in it?  Will I get to play Augusta National if my kid is a spinner and not a champion golfer?

 

No need to answer that last question.  I already know the sad truth.

 

 

 

Diary of a Stay At Home Dad: Crazy stuff my kid says

I’m not sure how much longer I can repeat some of the crazy stuff Frank says.  If this batch is any indication, tonight could be the final installment.  It’s getting crazier and a little more embarrassing.  With his sister coming home from the hospital soon, it’s likely to be epic.  He also goes back to school in August.  No telling what notes will be waiting for me when I pick him up every day.

Beanbag – gate

Quick Judas update.  The little chooch has not laid a butt-cheek in that freaking beanbag chair since he stabbed me in the back.  Go two posts back and read Anche Tu Francesco for the back story, or should I say stab me in the back story.  What do you want from me people, jokes are free.  You want pro quality humor, hit the tip jar and I’ll up my game.

Anyway here are the latest musings from my three year old.

Your not too fat daddy – you’re too old!  Yeah thanks Frank.  This after I turned down his offer of a doughnut telling him I was too fat.  He patted my belly as he said it.

He did it all by himself daddy!  Watching Tiger Woods hit a putt during the US Open.

I’m very strong.  After carrying in a UPS package from the porch.

Don’t run in the street daddy or a car will hit you in the face!    Again with the fat jokes.  First it was “you’re the biggest daddy” and now this.  I mean how big do you have to be for a car to hit you in the face?  The emphasis on his face while lecturing me made this more funny than it sounds.

Daddy, Daddy! It’s going into my pants!  Me: What is Frank?  My poop!  Great Frank, congratulations.

Frank at 4am “Hello, helloooooo!” while peeking out from his bedroom.  Me barely lifting my head from the pillow in response: What do you want Frank!  His reply betrayed his irritation and matched my volume: “You get crackers for my mouth!”  Me: delusional – staggering downstairs and chuckling to myself to get crackers for his mouth.

I feel like a princess.  He threw out this little gem while coming out of the bathroom after his bath.  He had taken the hooded towel off his head and wrapped it around his chest much like a women would do.  God help me.

Speaking of his chest:

These are my mountains.  He educated my on this bit of anatomy while taking off his swim shirt and pointing to his chest after getting back from the pool.  I had no response then.  I have no response now.

She’s so cute!  The kid is a charmer.  He seems able to pull off the perfect sound bite with accompanying expression for these situation.  He has yet to see his sister face to face.  So far he’s seen her through the glass of the intensive care unit about a month ago and this moment, when he saw her on Skype.

His sister is coming home soon.  I shudder to think what he’ll say then.