(#2) You Know You're a Parent When...

Aloha,

Source: http://davidpowersking.blogspot.com/

I’ve the honor of guest posting at the blog of David Powers King today!

David is an experienced blogger and aspiring author of MG/YA Science Fiction and Fantasy with a soft spot for zombies and the paranormal. Married with kids, David lives, plots, writes, and evolves in the great state of Utah.

I consider David a mentor, so after you’re finished here, please click the above link to his blog.

Mahalo in advance :) 

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Here now is my second, weekly installment of You Know You’re A Parent When… (The first one's here.)

So, You know You’re A Parent When…

Young Writer of America

·          You go to Burger King where the kid's toy is some sort of ink pen... your son tells you this... but you are driving and don't want to be too distracted. "Yes, son..." is the answer before the squeal that happened after opening the side door - and not looking in the rear view mirror.

·         You're attending a freestyle music class, but can only cringe when your oldest asks the age of the teacher and wonders (aloud) why are her nails broken and her legs hairy  – during class.

·         After watching a now-empty Ziploc sandwich bag float to the ground, (special guest star) Uncle Jerry glances toward the living room (where someone carpet-bombed the floor with weird-looking Cheerios,) and suggests buying a Pez to dispense individual Lucky Charms marshmallows.
      I guffaw, but later, when a bag of Fruit Loops decorates the floor, sides and passengers of the red van, another Lucky Charms disaster comes to mind, and Pez dispensers start to sound like they’re Gr-r-reat.

Wow, they spread easy using this thing!

·         But, then again, you can cut out the middle man by chucking the other Ziploc bags of Lucky Charms on the ground, thus cutting out the short delay – and the desperate, but dashed hope that this time things will be different – and then thee youngest one upturns the bag anyway. (Ye olde sighe.)

·         You are so afraid to lose two, teenage Japanese exchange students entrusted to your care that you and the wife follow them at a safe distance, tagging off in the busy mall like you’re in the middle of some important, undercover stroller sting.)

·         Wandering bored around Target, (the exchange students continue to wander the outer aisles) you spot a large tray of travel-size, refill spray bottles. Instantly cheered, you buy a couple, happy now you’ve got new tools for the upcoming back yard water fight.

·         Your 21-month-old wanders over with a cushion held in front of his face. Heading for the nearest wall, he makes some monster-sounding noises and proceeds without any further adieu to bounce off the wall, then the couch and the ottoman, before shuffling and muttering into another room… You continue the ongoing conversation about Albert the Angel as if the extra-special guest appearance by “Bouncing Monster Boy” is a normal occurrence, (which sadly it is!)

· Your super-friendly, never, ever shy four-year-old has a chance to meet (and get an offered hug) from a Pearl Harbor Survivor – but all he wants to do is hide behind a bench, my legs, or in a small heap.) Not even reverse physiology works… “Tobey, you don’t have to shake his hand or say hi.” (The response is: “OK, Papa…”)

Sorry I'm shy, but mahalo for your service.

·         Meanwhile, done in with having to always clean all the non-Lucky Charm marshmallows, a plan is hatched! Standing in front of the sink; you take a colander and sift through a large box of Lucky Charms. Arranging the treasure trove of shooting stars and other “charms” that you know will impress the afore mentioned four-year-old and his brother, you happily watch as No.1 Son looks at the bag... then at you... picks up the bag as if it contained something yucky… looks back at you and demands to know where all the "brown bits" have gone?
    
     (Good grief, Charlie Brown :)