Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Last year I was in a store with my son shopping for pots and pans that either never get dirty or that clean themselves, and we passed the toy isle.
I bought two Nerf guns and a load of darts thinking that someday my 10 year old son and I would have a little war.
This was stupid for two reasons. First, boys with Nerf guns shoot sisters without following any moral code. Eyeballs and screaming mouths are excellent targets for foam darts.
Second, boys, in general, break everything.
My son has broken rocks, lizards, pants, food, and every plastic toy that has breached his ½ mile destruction zone.
Last week, I scheduled a “play date” (I hate that term) with a boy and girl who are the same ages as my kids. I also knew that the boy had Nerf guns, so I asked him to bring ‘em along for a friendly war.
Today, before they arrived, I pulled out our Nerf guns and found that they didn’t work. Not exactly a surprise. I found all of the darts that had not been partially digested by the dogs, and hid them so I would have unlimited shots during the war – hey, don’t judge me, it’s my house.
The guests arrived and rolled out of the Toyota with gigantic battery powered Nerf guns with magazines, bullet belts, and a bag of darts. They had enough firepower to take out a village of Smurfs.
I went over the basics, you know, “Whomever gets all the flags wins,” and “If you get hit, lay down and count to ten,” and “If you see blood, call for a time out until we figure out where it’s coming from”.
After we hid our flags, all hell broke loose for about two hours. I was sweating within the first five minutes, and I think I counted to ten enough times to hit 6 digits.
I soon realized that the children had formed a Survivor-type alliance with each other to take the old man down. Another reason to keep your kids away from reality TV.
During the mayhem, I noticed the tykes weren’t picking up the darts they were riddling me with, so I devised a diabolical plan. During my ten counts, I took every dart I could reach and shoved them in my pockets. If I’m the only guy with ammo, I will win, right?
My son remembered the goal and took all the flags while I lay on the floor guarding my groin while being peppered with darts from the other three hoodlums. Next year, I’m getting one of those Smurf destroyers…and I’m going to wear a cup.
Monday, November 8, 2010
I’ve got a new idea to run by you guys… Monkey Maids!
Spider monkeys, lemurs, macaques, it doesn’t really matter, as long as they have prehensile tails.
Here’s a little background for you.
There are only two things I really dislike about being a Stay At Home Dad (there really is a group of guys calling themselves SAHD).
First, I don’t like cooking. I dig the shopping part – riding on the cart, asking elderly ladies where the prophylactics are, putting Kotex in other guy’s carts when they aren’t looking, and telling little kids that the magazines taste like candy if you lick them; but the cooking part is a waste of time. No matter how much time or care you put into the meal, it gets all mangled up with spit and swallowed, then even worse things happen to it. Picture Van Gogh finishing Starry Night, then turning and feeding it to Nermal the goat. Total waste of time.
The second thing I dislike about being a SAHD is cleaning. I don’t mind blasting stuff with the pressure washer, or smashing things in the recycle can, but the real cleaning part stinks. So, I started thinking of cheap labor…. otherwise known as children.
You can pay them a quarter to do any kind of work. And they are happy to do it! And if you start out with dimes, you can get them positively ecstatic with mention of a buck.
I bet I could get a bus-load of kids to repave my driveway for $3.50 if I threw in some Capri Suns and powdered doughnuts.
Now, picture a half-dozen kids dressed in fleece footie pajamas and amped up on Mountain Dew. They could get a hard wood floor sparkling in seconds. Now wrap duct tape around them with the sticky side out and toss some Skittles around the room. No more cat hair, no more crumbs, and no more of Aunt Bertha’s fingernail clippings. Then you get the added bonus of watching them remove the duct tape! Now that’s entertainment. You could also dip them in Tilex and let ‘em fight in the shower – shiny clean… at least the bottom half of the shower.
The problem lies in those pesky Child-Labor Laws. I’m not a fan of jail.
So, monkeys are the obvious solution. I’ve never heard of Monkey-Labor Laws, and monkeys are really just hairy children that don’t speak and have better table manners. Monkeys are the perfect house cleaners – almost. You can stick a rag in both hands, both feet, AND a tail. Try doing that with your Cock-a-poo and see if you don’t get bit.
There’s a little issue of hygiene, which might cause problems. I’ve heard that upset monkeys fling their poo. I can’t picture that going over well with… anyone. I doubt my wife would notice the dusted furniture and minty fresh toilet bowl, if there was dried monkey poo on the windows.
I guess I could make them wear diapers. Would you be more likely to hire a bunch of naked monkeys, or monkeys wearing diapers? I’ll work that out later, right now I have to get some monkeys. Used ones would be okay, but not senile ones. That has horror flick written all over it. I wonder if I should go straight banana diet or if Purina makes Monkey-Chow?