What’s in Garrett’s Pants???

Pants PicAs Garrett stood by my bed, he had his hand in the pocket of his pants and he was searching feverishly for something. There was a concerned look on his brow as he “rummaged” through his pants. Finally, he looked up at me with a sense of urgency and yelled, “PENIS!! PENIS!! PENIS!!!!!!!”

Two thoughts crossed my mind: 1) How was I going to quickly explain to my wife (who was also in the room) that our two year old knew that word?, and 2) Why was he so desperate to find it all of a sudden??

Finally, I asked, “Garrett – where did you learn that word?” (Knowing full-well, that somehow I was to blame.)

GWE turned to me and clarified, “He’s not saying ‘Penis!’ He’s saying ‘PENNIES!’ He’s looking for the pennies that he put in his pocket.”

Garrett chimed in, “Yes, mommy!! Pennies!!”

Whew – that was a close one!!

He’s No R. Kelly!

While on the way to Justin’s first school chorus performance, Justin and I were immaturely joking around in the car. We…………….. (ahem)…ok, I was being immature and using potty humor with Justin – but he was laughing hysterically, so he instigated my behavior. He made me do it.

I asked Justin how he would feel if I ran up on stage, turned around, pulled down my pants and mooned the audience while he was singing. He giggled and giggled. I then asked him if I could run up, moon the audience, and then flap my butt cheeks. He laughed out loud. Finally, I asked if him if it would be ok if I ran up on stage in the middle of his performance, mooned the audience, and then started farting along with the music. He convulsed with laughter.

When he finally caught his breath, he said, “Daddy – you need to run up on stage, pull down your pants, and then pee pee on everyone.” Together, we howled at this sick potty humor. We had no intention of doing these things. We’re men and these things simply make us laugh.

What you should also know is that Justin and I have our own, non-verbal language. It started years ago with me pointing to my eye, then my head, then towards him, and finally pinching my nose. (“I think you stink.”) He sends me similar messages as well.

However, I was not prepared for how far Justin was about to take our potty humor from the car in combination with our non-verbal language this past Sunday morning moments before getting on stage with his classmates.

While standing in between two female classmates, Justin waved at me to get my attention. He then mimicked pulling down his pants, grabbed his “Little Justin”, and fake peed on those around him – all while smiling directly at me.

My first reaction was massively inappropriate – I fell over laughing. I tried to compose myself as I raced over to him (while still laughing). I told him that he could not do that…we would both get in trouble. He did it a second time just as my mother-in-law came over to wish him luck. I’m pretty sure I was in more trouble at that moment than he was. With her help, we successfully got him to stop just moments before going on stage. (While sitting at lunch a little later, I was able to explain to her what led up to Justin’s mime act.)

I’ve learned a very important lesson here (both personally and professionally) – my pep talks to the “talent” need to be a little less graphic!

I Cannot Un-See What I Have Seen

There is no photographic evidence for the following story. Trust me….it’s better for everyone involved.

There are times in life when you walk into a room, witness something you wish you had never seen, and then slowly back away. That is what happened to me on Wednesday morning.

Before jumping into the shower, I placed Garrett on his play mat on the floor of the den and then instructed Justin (for the 35th time that morning) to get dressed. I told Justin that he would be a big help to me if he could keep an eye on Garrett. After a hot shower and shave, I decided to check on the boys.

What I saw was both horrifying and hilarious. Garrett was still laying on his play mat, but he had scooted up and his head was now off the mat. He was looking up and slightly back. Justin had both feet on either side of Garrett’s head and he was bent over while struggling with his shirt. Justin was facing away from me with one arm through his sleeve, the other arm was missing, and his head was stuck….in what I presume was his other sleeve.

Oh, and did I mention that Justin wasn’t wearing any underwear?? Yup! Justin was butt-naked and Garrett was stuck looking straight up at his open ass cheeks the whole time!! Garrett looked confused. It was as if Justin’s “kibbles and bits” were a new kind of mobile for Garrett. He was clearly waiting for something to happen! Music…lights…anything!!

I said nothing, went back to my bedroom to continue getting dressed, and hoped that the situation would work itself out.

You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out, Kid!

Justin recently got the gift of “Piddlers – Toilet Targets.” These are tiny pieces of colored styrofoam that you toss into a toilet and are used as an aid for peeing. It’s supposed to help the child “aim” for the water. If you’ve ever seen my son pee – you know that this is the perfect gift for him because he has the aim of Stevie Wonder. Justin likes to “weave” back and forth while peeing. He splashes the back of the seat then hits base of the bowl and then over to the wall and maybe a little sprinkle or two on the toilet paper roll and then finally – a few dribbles on the front of the seat…..all the while looking at everything BUT the toilet bowl.

If I have to accidentally sit on his pee again, I am going to make him piss in the yard for a week!!

So, for the past week, we’ve been tossing “Piddlers” into the toilet to get Justin to aim for the bowl. They come in three colors: yellow, pink, and purple. At this point, he will only use the purple ones. For some reason, purple must “die the death of Justin’s hot urine!” However, there is one small problem with the product. They don’t flush well. I’ve seen the styrofoam go down the drain only to reappear back in the bowl a few moments later.

The Piddlers that resurface have a new opponent – ME! That’s right! If Justin can’t get them down, it’s up to “daddy” to finish the job! I should be ashamed to admit all of this, but I’m not because my aim has gotten much better!

Thanks Piddlers!!

How Many 4 Year Olds Does it Take to Get to Second Base?

This story was told to me by GWE. I was not there to witness the events that occurred, nor was I there for the “aftermath.”

Yesterday afternoon GWE got a call from Justin’s school assuring us that “Justin was fine,” but that an incident had occurred. According to the teacher, Justin had asked a teacher if he could play on the structure shaped like a school bus. She said that it was fine and thought nothing of it as he walked away.

After a few moments, she noticed a commotion inside the school bus structure – so she decided to see what all the fuss was about. As she approached, she discovered four children “playing” inside the bus. However as she got closer, she realized that Justin was no longer wearing pants and the children announced that they were playing a game called “Show Me What You’ve Got.” And, one of the little girls informed the teacher that she had “touched it.” (These are 3 ½ to 5 year old kids. There is no intent behind their actions other than curiosity!)

Immediately realizing the gravity of the situation, she pulled up Justin’s pants and brought all four kids into a classroom for a discussion about what was and was not appropriate. Together, with the assistance of another teacher, they began to explain to the children that it’s not ok to let people touch you “under your bathing suit.” In a moment of either logical clarity or smart-ass humor Justin said, “But, I’m not wearing a bath suit!” Doh!

I’d like to point out a few things here:

1)      Justin was not the “toucher”. He was the “touchee!” Big difference!!

2)      In this situation, it’s good to be the parent of the boy and not the girl!

3)      It’s possible that this officially counts as second base. Hey – My kid got to second base!!

That evening, GWE and I decided to have a conversation with Justin about what had occurred at school. We tried to be serious, but all three of us broke into hysterical laughter. I wanted to tell Justin that it was not cool for a five year old to “rock out with his cock out,” but I just don’t think he’d understand it if I phrased it that way. I finally told him that his peepee was like the doors at school – only to be touched by mommy, daddy, or teacher.

By my calculations, I have 5 years to work on my Poker Face for our “Birds and Bees” discussion!


Just a Little off the Top

The clock was ticking. Garrett only had seven days left with his penis intact. I begged him to “use it or lose it,” but he ignored my advice and wisdom. Instead, he continued to drool on himself and poop into a diaper. On the eighth day, (like a gunslinger in the Old West) the Mohel arrived on our doorstep looking for my baby’s schmeckel. He was carrying a satchel of tools, a few extra Tallit (religious robes), and a gleam in his eye. Someone was about to lose their foreskin!

For those of you who don’t know, Jewish law states that a circumcision is a ‘mitzva aseh” (“positive commandment” to perform an act) and is obligatory for Jewish-born males. It is performed at a “party” where family members and close friends gather to hear the child’s Hebrew name, watch a foreskin cutting, and then nosh on mini deli sandwiches. At this party, it is better to be a guest than the Guest of Honor!

Justin’s circumcision was the first one I had attended. It was done by Dr. Fred Kogen. He performed a wonderful, heartfelt ceremony and then he proceeded to remove by son’s foreskin with three or four quick moves. I remember thinking, if he’s this good at circumcision – I bet he’s got fantastic turkey-carving skills at Thanksgiving!

For Garrett’s circumcision, we asked Dr. Kogen to return to do the honors. Once again, he performed a touching ceremony! However, without going into too much detail about the actual procedure, I can tell you that Garrett’s reaction was far different than Justin’s. When Justin was clipped, he cried (even though he was completely numb.) When the time came for Garrett to get cut, we laid him on the table in front of the Mohel. Grandpa Bob held his upper body in place as I held down his right leg and my father held down his left leg. And then, there was silence…..

In the few seconds before the Mohel went to work, Garrett stared at all four of us defiantly. The look in his eyes said, “I know what you’re about to do. Go ahead and take it! I’ve got eight more inches to work with!!”

After it was all said and done (and in accordance with Jewish ritual), I took Garrett’s foreskin (and the umbilical cord that had just fallen off) and went outside to bury it. To this day, Justin and Garrett’s foreskins are buried next to each other under my lemon tree.

If my lemon tree ever decides to produce fruit and I’m able to make juice out of the lemons, I will bottle it like a fine wine and label it, ”Dos Prepucio Vineyards” aka (“Two Foreskin Vineyards”)