Notes for the Semi-Irresponsible Father
4 Comments Published by Josh Kimball March 2nd, 2007 in Family. Share ThisOver the past week on Dethroner, I think my paucity of parenting aptitude has become clear even to readers least knowledgeable in the fatherly arts.
The evidence (in chronological order):
• I would not allow my wife to tie a string to my testicles during childbirth.
• No male breastfeeding.
• My greatest parenting fear: Taco Bell-like rats.
• Still using diapers rather than the more empathetic and ecological “elimination communication.”
Despite my proven incompetence (even in making the choice to breed, apparently), I still have high hopes for molding my kid’s young mind, starting right now, at just three weeks old. As has been widely reported, young children are able to communicate in a number of ways. Their incessant crying can even be interpreted (through the Dunstan Baby Language) by normal humans. “Eh,” for instance, means “I need to burp.” While “Eairh” means “I have gas.” Learning this complex language (there are 3 additional words, so prepare for intense study), opens the lines of communication, and allows real learning to begin.
Since Dunstan covers only a very few of a kid’s need-states, at our house we’ve already moved quickly to child sign language. I’m currently working diligently to teach the little guy that the devil sign (or “hook ‘em horns”) is the household signal for “Please change the television to the ‘panorama’ setting rather than the 4:3 setting.” Additional signals include the “Thumbs-up with Flexing Thumb” (as if one were flicking the top off a beer bottle), the universal symbol for “I would like a beverage brought to me,” and the Wild Flailing of Arms and Legs, Along with a Reddening of the Face, which at our house at least, is the symbol for “Holy shit, there’s something terribly, inexplicably wrong.”
If the signs work out OK, I’ll eventually be homeschooling junior, with a curriculum based on him simply following me around, taking notes on my commentary on day-to-day activities, along with a healthy day-part dedicated to his reading the internet over my shoulder. It’s got to be as good as the public school system.
To that end, I’ve done some serious boning up on the stuff I’ll need to raise and educate this child, from now until age 18. Hence:
The 10 Essentials for the Semi-Irresponsible Father
• The Walkolong – The finest in child leashes.
• The Oxford English Dictionary – The homeschooled child’s first and only textbook, grades K-12.
• The Billy Bob Bucktooth Binkie – Shaping the dude’s self-image in such a way to preclude having to pay for future dental work.
• The Kipii – A device which allows you to make anything into a bib, including, for instance, rags or old shirts.
• The PPTP – Highly recommended.
• Jim Beam – It’s like amoxicillin for adults.
• Noise canceling headphones - Wear at all times.
• Trixie Tracker – Software that crunches the numbers on all the kid’s activities, from feeding to changing. Allows pops the illusion of being engaged.
• Security backpack Equipping your child with a panic button that triggers flashing lights and whooping sirens: smarter and cheaper than karate lessons.
• Kid-tracking GPS-enabled phone – For when they outgrow the leash.
I would like to take this opportunity to briefly rant on the subject of child leashes. For the love of all that is holy in this world, please do not put a leash on your child.
Nothing says, I’m incapable of keeping track of my child in a public setting and apparently have a shorter attention span than a toddler with anterograde amnesia, like a vapid parent trailing after their child with a length of irridescent plastic adhereing the two together. Its like watching someone being steered by a drunk midget.
Ostensibly, you are smarter than your child as their brain has yet to fully form.
*a side note, this intelligence gap should continue until your rapidly burgeoning offspring is just old enough to vote and fire an assault rifle*
This vast superiority in intelligence should allow you to think to yourself “Self, I have HANDS, these hands might be able to hold onto a child, I don’t have to shackle my child to me like nuclear launch codes, I’M FREE!!!!”
And honestly, can you think of anything more awkward than your son coming home one winter break from college with his new girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter, flush with excitement of new love. Your wife hoists out the photo album and there you are, captured in digital memory forever, standing helplessly beside your angelically innocent child who is laughing and pointing at the elderly couple that he tangled in his leash and sent crashing to the floor of your local mall, breaking his hip and her collarbone, the lawsuit was so uncool. C’mon, no one wants that freakshow.
This has been a public service announcement.
I don’t know, man. I’ve been known run into the street, and i’m a grown up…
I laughed my butt off at the mom in the mall yesterday with her kid on a leash. Especially after the little bugger crawled into the middle of a clothes rack, executed a beautiful Houdini, reattached his leash to the bar holding up the whole rack, and then set off for parts unknown. Mom was oblivious until she tried to move on and yanked down the whole rack. Funniest thing I’ve seen in forever. PS. I returned the kid to his severely distraught mother after congratulations and high fives.
Leashing adults is an entirely different, and sometimes chillingly deviant topic all-together. For me it falls into the “different strokes for different folks” category, but in the vein of Austin Powers, thats just not my bag baby.