My son hates potatoes, so of course, when it's desert time, it's not uncommon for me to deliver everyone their cake or ice cream, and then present him with a bowl with a potato in it. If I'm feeling extra mischievous , I'll put some sprinkles or a lit birthday candle on it. It just makes the whole experience that much better.
You see, there are few things I enjoy more than playing pranks on my 6 year old son. His reactions provide me with so much joy and entertainment. These activities make up the majority of my parenting time.
One of my all time favorite pranks is to conceal a Shreddie in his food or drink and then sit back and wait for him to find it. The suspense is exhilarating, and the fireworks following the discovery are just the best!
On occasion, l will send him to school with a lunch full of hidden surprises. (FYI - It's impossible to have a bad day at the office when you know your son will be, or already has, eaten a raisin infused banana.)
When he gets home, I will ask him, "Sam, how was your lunch today?"
He never answers the question, as he's convinced that by doing so, he would be admitting defeat. Instead, he will give me a goofy, frustrated smile, followed by us both laughing hysterically.
I say all this because yesterday I had somewhat of an epiphany:
We were expecting company, so I had been tasked with various cleaning duties. Sam decided this would be the perfect time to launch a full out war campaign on daddy.
Plastic grenades and a dart gun were his weapons of choice. As I attempted to vacuum, he proceeded to rain down his offensive .
After receiving several blows to the abdomen, and genitals, I began to reflect on the situation I was in.
I immediately realized that his behavior was a direct result of my unrelenting tomfoolery; which he's subject to on a daily basis.
More importantly, I knew that this little battle was just the beginning, and that I could now expect an increase in frequency (and intensity) of these retaliatory episodes.
Well, that was yesterday.
As per usual, I'm up early this morning and find myself contemplating the conundrum I find myself in.
What concerns me most, is the extreme disadvantage I will have as the boy gets older. Unfortunately for me, Sam is already rather gigantic (95 percentile enormous actually). Not gigantic, as in obese, but gigantic as in viking-like or Norse God'ish.
I on the other hand, struggle in this area, as I am more comparable to a hobbit or a garden gnome.
Needless to say, I'm somewhat worried about the day Thor decides to teach Frodo a lesson.
And so, I've been sitting here for the last 15 minutes writing this post, and rethinking my parenting choices.
I've decided a new strategy is in order; it's imperative that I create an alliance with my future Goliath sized nemesis.
Sadly though, I think the damage is done. I have a hard, painful road ahead of me.
Wish me luck....or not....I do deserve what lays ahead.
Sam - please remember your daddy loves you. Be gentle....I'm getting old.