SUBSCRIBE VIA RSSI need to remember that our 10-year old son is a sponge. More importantly, I need to remember that our 10-year old son is a leaky sponge.
He absorbs everything I share with him and becomes so impressed by my knowledge that he’s all too eager to share his newly discovered wisdom with others.
All this would be great if what I shared with him was actually worth sharing, but it rarely is. Typically my teachings settle in somewhere between completely fabricated and totally inappropriate. But, at least from Michael’s perspective, Dad’s word is law. Even though I’ve done little to substantiate this belief, we seem to have a level of unconditional trust between us. And it’s this unconditional trust that continues to get me in trouble.
Because Michael isn’t able to distinguish between Dad’s genuine pearls of applicable wisdom and Dad’s completely inane pearls of nonsense, I usually find myself on the wrong side of Heather’s ire. Much like the time we were watching a Little League baseball game before Michael’s team was scheduled to play.
A child on one of the teams had a raging case of Infantigo, and incredibly enough, was still allowed to participate. Even with a visible full-body rash, he was out running around, touching things, and spreading his Infantigo germs all around the infield.
When he wasn’t doing that, he was in the dugout rapid-scratching himself with the intensity of a mite-laden monkey…breaking open his scabby sores and then moisturizing his arm with contagious puss before the start of the next inning.
I wouldn’t have cared so much if he were out there playing Little League Golf. No one ever really touches each other. But when you’re six years old, baseball is a full contact sport. Every ground ball results in a roving scrum of kicked-up dust and appendages as everyone, including the batter, scrambles to grab the ball first.
So when I saw this kid who had more scabs per square foot than visible skin run out onto the field, I leaned over to Heather and sarcastically muttered, “Be sure to say a cheer for Infantigo Boy.”
Seconds later, Michael cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, “GO INFANTIGO BOY!!!,” genuinely believing it was a compliment.
I didn’t even have to turn my head to know that Heather’s gaze was boring a hole in it. I immediately clasped my hand over Michael’s face and told him that it wasn’t appropriate to shout things like that. I also asked where he’d even heard such a word (loud enough for other parents to hear) and then quickly shut him up with an offer of ice cream before his baffled look converted itself into words.
I’m always doing stuff like this. I know it’s wrong to say these things in the presence of my children but I just can’t help it. I can’t control when comedic situations arise. They just do, and I have yet to find a way to suppress the urge to jump on the opportunity for a laugh.
It’s almost like the immature part of my brain thinks of something funny, sarcastic, or witty to say before the mature part of my brain has time to stop it. A phenomenon that doesn’t surprise me considering the latter is grossly outmatched and currently in the midst of a 41-year losing streak.
You’d think I’d learn my lesson, especially considering the sheer number of times I’ve been admonished for it, but the other night at dinner it happened again.
Michael had asked if he could invite a girl from school over to play xBox, but Heather said she probably wasn’t home yet from Ski Club.
Me: “Ski club? She’s like 10, isn’t she?”
Heather: “Yeah? So? Lots of kids ski.”
Michael: “I think that’s cool. Skiing looks like fun.”
Me: “Well, if you want to get on her good side, compliment her. Call her a ski-zer.”
Heather: “What?!? Greg, seriously, don’t tell him that.”
Me: “Why not?!? Skiers LOVE to be complimented on their skiing. And think about it…someone who drinks a lot of booze is called a boozer, right? And someone who’s good at swimming is called a swimmer? Then there are bowlers, boxers, wrestlers, golfers. So it stands to reason that someone good at skiing would want to be called a skeezer.”
Heather: “Whatever. You know what you’re saying. Michael, ignore your father. The proper term is skier.”
Me: “True. If they’re just mediocre at it. The good ones are known as skeezers.”
Michael: “What’s the difference?”
Me: “Well, for one, skeezers go down faster.”
Heather: “You are SUCH a moron.”
Michael: “So I don’t say any of this?”
Heather: “Say NONE of it. You’re Dad’s an idiot.”
It’s true. I am. But like I said, I can’t help it. It’s like my brain is on a constant joke-sweeping mission and I just can’t contain the synapse explosion when it detects one.
I’m doing my best to change, albeit haphazardly, and someday I’ll figure out how to keep it all in check.
I’m just not sure my kids will have any friends left by the time this happens.
____________________________________________________________
{ 34 comments… read them below or add one }
Don’t change. I can get behind your new defintion for skeezer. It could easily be played as a cultural thing similar to The word fanny being relatively harmless in America but it gets you into trouble in mother England.
mark @ yelling near you´s last post…Car Spotting in Oregon
Bwahahahahha! I almost think it’s a man thing Greg. Or maybe you’re just somehow related to my hubby, who can change the context / content of anything to whatever suits him. Ok, so that’s more like your “dirty” post, but I digress. I am going to stick with.. it’s a guy thing.
I don’t think it’s a guy thing. My brain still fights with itself before things come out of my mouth like that too. It’s even more fun with autistic kids who take everything literally. At which point I say they must’ve heard it on TV or something.
I get this. My poor kids, 12 and 9, always double check what I say with, “Mom, are you being sarcastic or real?” Cause I have a very sarcastic mouth. This is bad too because, of course, the kids are developing their own sarcasm, which backfires for all of us.
In our family, it’s called, “Letting an inside-your-head-thought pop out and become an “Outside-your-head-thought.” Most of our family can’t tell the difference between the two.
@Karen in our house we have a poster and it says THINK!
Is it Thoughtful
Is it Helpful
Is it Insightful
Is it Necessary
Is it Kind
Of course then I had to sit down and dole out definitions for insightful. But it seems to have helped. I haven’t been told I have a nose like a witch (just one example of many) since. Ha.
Of course it doesn’t help that Grandpa comes up with all kinds of fantastic things that the 8 yr old can say, like calling our dentist a mean (or crusty, can’t recall) old man. Good thing he’s a family friend.
This is way too much for me to remember. My poster would read:
—————————-
THINK!*
Is it funny?
*Thinking is optional
—————————-
My now 13 year old autistic son got into major trouble in elementary school a couple of years ago because “dammit” kept popping out of his mouth. Even though the most commonly said curse words come out of my dear darling husband’s mouth in a regular stream of ranting, the ONE word I use was the one that almost got Joey suspended.
Figures.
Chelle´s last post…Stream of Consciousness Sunday – A Stitching Room
I see the humor because it’s not my kids, but then I picture that little boy and his parents hearing your son say stuff like, or that little girl going home and asking her parents what a ‘skeezer’ is, and then it’s not so funny.
I’m often on DH’s case for the adjectives he uses for my family and things he says about other people. My motivation isn’t the embarrassment I will have if something is repeated (though that is HUGE) but the deep feeling of hurt my sister would feel if my four year old said “Daddy says you’re crazy” (she’s bipolar). You strike me as a very nice person and it surprises me that the humor of the situation would overrule your sense of empathy.
My dad still tells the story of when I was quite small and I was bitten by a goat. When I ran to him crying his off the cuff response was “So? Bite him back,” so I did. You can imagine how popular he was with my mom that day (and still is whenever he tells the story, did I mention they’re divorced?).
As with almost every parent, my kids say LOTS of embarrassing things. Not always does it fall on me, but even so, they’ve dealt with me for years. It takes more than a few blog posts for someone to get to know me and the nuances of our family, but believe me, empathy isn’t something I lack. Common sense, maybe, but my family wouldn’t have me any other way.
MC, You are correct, that is exactly what happened.
Try explaining “skeezer” to your daughter. The one who “goes down faster” How incredibly inappropriate. Scratch another one off the list.
We can only shelter for so long. But he had NO CLUE what I meant. Unlike the daily barrage these kids endure from the mainstream media. People need to lighten up a bit, the world is caustic enough.
Caught up to real time in your blog last night, so thrilled to wake up this morning to find this wonderfully funny post
Keep up the GREAT funny, after all a smile to start the day keeps the blues away 
You’ll never outgrow it, not in the next 5 years anyway. (does your wife read your blog and the replies?)
You’ll reach a point where your kids friends will think you are hysterical, while your kids are rolling their eyes. Yeah, its mildly depressing.
On another note, if the kid had infantigo, he shouldn’t have been playing. Your kid was right to call him out on it.
WG
WilyGuy´s last post…Parenthe(ses)tically (not) Speaking
Ha! You could fit right in at my house. My son plays the trombone, and my 9 year old daughter was calling him a “tromboner” the other night. I corrected her to “trombonist,” but she insisted that her word was better. My son and I shared a kinda creepy laugh together.
I found you on thebloggess.com.
I’m having flashbacks to Calvin & Hobbes and Calvin’s questions about, well, everything.
I love reading your blog! I checked it out a couple of weeks ago and read all your posts so I could get caught up
Even if in our house we speak in French so our son won’t understand us, he’ll still repeat what he hears at daycare, and don’t get me started on the problems that arose when my brother in law taught him how to say ” I live on a pirate ship” with his fingers in his mouth.
I’m sorry, I can’t help myself. It’s who I am. I believe you are referring to Impetigo, not Infantigo. There’s no such thing as Infantigo. Sorry.
Actually, the word infantigo is used as well, just most people use impetigo, but they mean the same thing.
I’m referring to Infantigo…a skin rash. It’s real. I saw it. And half the kids on his team probably contracted it.
http://ainfantigo.com/
Impetigo IS a skin rash. It’s probably the one you saw. I’m guessing that the word Infantigo emerged from Impetigo because general non-medical folk couldn’t remember the proper word. Just sayin. It’s probably the same thing.
Plus your link even states that it’s also called Impetigo! LOL
Yep! It says “also known as…”
So, we’re both right.
Regardless, I am most definitely amongst the general non-medical folk. Either way you want to say it, the point remains the same.
I’ve just never heard it called that. Also I recently contracted a mysterious rash and did some research, so I naturally came across Impetigo. My rash is nothing like that though (gross), and it’s already fading. yay!
I’m just a spelling stickler, no biggie.
Sorry, I’m a copy editor and was wondering the same thing. I have never heard it called “infatigo,” although I believe you that it can be called that. Is it possible that what you call it is regional? I’ve lived in the Northwest my whole life.
This post has got to be up there for funniest all time reads! I will admit I feel bad for impetigo boy, but that didn’t stop the tears of laughter from rolling down my face. I’m a new reader and convert of yours. Keep sharing your wit and snarky humor to remind me (and others) that we are not alone in our incorrectness.
i remember learning about “six” from over hearing my dad talking to my 16 year old brother at the age of 7 and running over and telling everyone. Well the next day whenever the teacher said six we all laughed. needless to say my dad was in big trouble.
Mommy K´s last post…Lets Unplug for bit!
Funny Greg, but you won’t have to worry about your son not having any friends. The kids love it, but you may be on a city wide mommy hit list if your “contagion” spreads. I will keep my eyes on news headlines.
“INFANTIGO BOY” lol!!! Classic episode from most embarrassing parenting moments. I used to deliver used clothes to a social worker at a school in a dangerous part of town. I told my daughter to get in and out of the car quickly because it wasn’t a good neighborhood. She got out of the car and yelled “Why is this a bad neighborhood?” and I frantically looked to see if any guns were pointing at us. Gotta love it.
Melinda´s last post…Technically Superior Children of Today
Heather sounds like me, the ONLY adult in the room!
Pamela D Hart´s last post…It’s Too Heavy
LOL! You aspire to be Calvin’s dad, don’t you?
My husband has a tendency to take things that are said innocently and turn them into innuendo (sound familiar, lol?). He keeps forgetting that since our daughter is now 5, she pays attention to what we say and wants to know what we are talking about! Ack! “Daddy, what do you mean that mommy is usually the one that makes things hard around here? What are you gonna give her 10 inches of?”
You sound like you would get along great with my parents…they did thing slike that to me on purpose as well. For instance, when I was a little girl my mom told me I wasn’t allowed to curse because curse words were adult words and if children used them they would be arrested. (because she didn’t want to stop cursing, she just didn’t want me to repeat it!) Then she and I would play the Name Game (you know, where you add bannana-fanna-fo-blah-blah-blah to a word)….and she would told me to play with the name Chuck…chuck-chuck-bo-buck-bananna-fanna-fo-F**K….and then I cried because I was convinced my own mother was trying to have me arrested. She just laughed and told all her friends.
I wonder if you guys are related???
Excuse me, who can I speak to about getting a new monitor?
I was chuckling as reading but I spit my water all over my monitor when I read skeezers go down faster. Bwhahaha!
This is exactly what goes on here! We have a house rule “Don’t listen to Dad”. Whenever the kids come to me with something ridiculous that he has told them I say, “What is the house rule?” They always say “Oh yeah, don’t listen to Dad.” Then we all laugh.