Category Archives: Toys

The Master of Manipulation

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This past Wednesday, Justin and I went to Target to pick up a few odds and ends. Justin has a tendency to want to leave Target immediately after finding the toy he wants. In an effort to keep him interested, I told him that we would be going to the toy section last – and only if he was really good and helped me. He understood and was great!

We picked up a few cans of deodorant, a few bottles of Mr. Bubble, and some soap and shampoo. If you haven’t figured it out yet, he was stinky. There are only so many days in a row you can rub a car freshener on your child before daycare becomes suspicious because your child smells like “Everest Pine.”

Everything was fine…..until we went to get some bread.

At some point, the bread aisle at Target turns into the cookie, cake, and sweets aisle – and Justin figured it out before I did. He immediately ran over to a box of Little Debbie Chocolate Brownies with sprinkles, grabbed it, and then threw it in the cart….like he was doing me a favor. I took the item out of the cart and told Justin to put it back. Here is the following discussion:

Me: Justin, put that back.

Justin: But, I want it.

Me: No, Justin. Please put it back

Justin: But, I want it!

Me: No, Justin. Please put it back

Justin: But, I want it!

Me: C’mon Justin. We don’t want that. Put it back.

Justin: But….but…but….but…..but (about thirty times)

Me: Put it back….put it back….put it back….put it back (about thirty-one times)

Justin (pauses for a moment to think about the best way to manipulate me): BUT, DADDY…..IT’S FOR YOU……FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! (It should be noted that my birthday is not until August and he ended the sentence by looking cute and then going in for a hug.)

Me: Really? It’s for me?

Justin (smiling evilly): YEAH!

Me: Sooooo…….I get to eat it?

Justin (smile fades): Um…….no, daddy. It’s for me to eat for your birthday.

Me: Put it back.

Justin: (bursts into tears) NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

I was finally able to get Justin to leave the brownies behind by giving him a choice: brownies or toy. Ultimately, he chose the toy. This is where our adventure should have ended. It didn’t.

As we’re standing in the checkout line, Justin disappeared for a second. I assumed that he went around the corner to see the kids’ DVDs and point out each one that he already has. (This is something he usually does in the checkout like.) After a minute or so, he “crept” back into line and put an item on the conveyor belt. Then, he just smiled at me.

Somehow, he managed to find the exact same Little Debbie Brownie in a single-serving, kid size.

I gave in. I’m easily manipulated by a cute 4 year old.

I hope he remembers some of the moments I gave in during those times when I just can’t.

“Roofied” by a Three and a Half Year Old

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While at Michael’s Art Supply store, Justin asked me if he could have a toy. He picked out a package of “Grow Creatures”. They come in a package of 10 or 12 and look like medicine capsules. (Major design flaw!) To “activate” the toy, you place it in hot water and wait for the magic to happen! The capsule casing will dissolve and the sponge-like creature will form an animal shape ten times its original form.

As I get older, I realize that Justin’s questions are getting better. However, I’m not yet ready to end a sentence in “Because I said so” – so I now look things up before he asks. Here is a better explanation of what happens with the “Grow Creatures”: “They are made of a hydrophilic (“water-loving”) polymer called a hydrogel, similar to the absorbent chemical in modern disposable diapers. The hydrogel is combined with another polymer which is hydrophobic (not rabid, just “water-hating”), which causes the animal to hold its shape as it grows, and which helps it maintain its shape as it shrinks if removed from water.” (Let’s see Justin ask a follow-up question to THAT explanation!)

I’ve told Justin over and over again – don’t eat the “Grow Creature”, just put it in hot water and wait!

This morning (while I wasn’t watching), he decided to place a capsule in my HOT coffee to watch it grow. I didn’t notice it until I pulled a “Sponge Tiger” out of my mouth.

In retrospect, three things went horribly wrong:

1)    Justin “Roofied” me. He slipped a “pill” into my coffee!!!

2)    Justin actually followed my instructions. He put the “pill” in a hot liquid (as instructed) and he did not eat it (I did!).

3)    Once again, Justin demonstrated “out of the box” thinking that I was not prepared for.

So, the lesson here is: If Justin is near your drink and he looks guilty, something is very, very wrong!!

Oh, Shit…I’m Shot!

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While GWE was on a business trip 2 weeks ago, I decided to take Justin to Target to get his first Nerf gun. As I see it, you’re not really a man until you’ve shot someone with a spring-loaded, plastic toy. We picked out three brightly colored guns (with extra ammo) and came home where I proceeded to show him how to load, aim, and fire his new weapon. For the next three days, we ran around the house and backyard shooting each other in the head! We both had a fantastic time and it was a great way for us to play together (and have him burn off some of that “Super Justin” energy he’s got so much of!)

However, this morning, Justin showed me his true colors! He eagerly woke me at 6:15am with his usually rant of “I’ve got to go peepee….I wanna watch “Spongebob”…..I want a mini-bagel with fruit!” I sat him down at the peninsula so he could watch me make breakfast and he could still see the TV. I got him a glass of milk and then proceeded to make him a delicious and nutritious breakfast. While my back was turned I heard him giggle to himself and assumed that he was laughing at the TV. I should have known better.

The next thing I know, I heard a “click” and then Justin shot me in the back with his Nerf gun. As I turned around, I saw him out of the corner of my eye grinning from ear to ear and trying to quickly pull back the mechanism to reload the gun. This little assassin actually got off two more shots (at my ass) while I was trying to find one of the other guns. As I quickly turned around to fire, he yelled “ALL DONE…ALL DONE!!!!!” and he lowered his gun to show me that he wasn’t going to shoot me again. He then told me he was sorry and told me to put my gun away. At the moment I chose to put my gun down on the counter, he pulled out the other gun from behind his back and shot me in the head again!!!!!! What the hell?!?!? I tried to make him breakfast AND show him mercy and he shot me in the head while laughing like a deranged mad man!!!

Let’s see if he likes being woken up at 3am with a Nerf gun pointed at his head! 🙂

Three Wheels, Two Pedals, and No Fear!

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If driving a tri-cycle is any indication of how Justin will be as a driver, we’re all screwed.

One week ago, I took Justin and his Harley Davidson tricycle to Balboa Park. I assumed it would be an uneventful trip and that I would need to push him along since I’ve never seen him go more than ½ a mile an hour. Oh, how wrong I was. As soon as I took his bike out of the back of the car, he jumped on it as quickly as possible and SPED OFF! I hadn’t even shut the back of the car yet and he was already speeding towards the playground. I quickly ran after him and caught up to him where the path splits. He sat there for a second and debated – “do I go right to the playground or do I go left to the path that goes around the pond?” Then, he decided on a third option – he chose to “off road” it directly to the ducks in the pond. He turned a hard left, started pedaling, and ended up going down a steep glassy hill as fast as humanly possible. There was only one thought that went through my head – “he doesn’t know how to stop!” Once again I chased after him and was able to grab him and the bike 4ft from the edge of the pond. He then turned to me as if nothing had happened and said, “Look daddy, DUCKS!” Needless to say, I kept my hand on the bike the rest of the time we were there.

In an attempt to give him more freedom on the bike, I chose to go to a different park yesterday afternoon. The park on the corner of Balboa and Paso Robles has a gated biking area for children. It has painted lanes, gas stations, stop signs, etc. This is where I discovered that Justin truly is the worst driver I have ever seen. First of all, Justin prefers to bike in one direction while having his head turned 180 degrees (or, he like to look straight up into the sky). He likes to move forward, but prefers to see where he’s been. He also weaves in and out of lanes! His lane is his lane and your lane is his lane! Somehow, he always managed to turn the wheel at the last second to avoid driving straight into a fence or pole. I have no idea how he did it, but it is a trick worthy of any stunt driver.

Also, Justin thinks that biking is a contact sport. He believes that his purpose on a tricycle is to collide with anyone else riding their bicycle as well. I watched him smash into a little girl riding a “Little Mermaid” bike with training wheels. I watched him smash into a little boy on a scooter, and I saw him go after a guy who was wearing rollerblades. (This reminds me of a funny joke – what is the hardest part about rollerblading? Answer: Telling your parents you’re gay.)

And finally, I realized the extent to which Justin mimics both GWE (Greatest Wife Ever) and I in the car. Several times, I watched Justin stop, do something to his eyebrows, and then continue biking. After the third time, I asked him what he was doing. He told me that he was “fixing his make-up”. (I assure you that this is not something he learned in my car.) I then got a dose of my own medicine by watching him drive and act like me. He would purposely pull up right behind another child on a bike who had stopped. He would then obnoxiously ring his bell and yell “Get out of the way Schlubbies.” (This is my toned down version for when he is in the car with me.) It also seems as though he’s observed those few moments when I may have forgotten he was sitting right behind me. Once, I watched him pull up behind another little girl at the pretend gas station and yell, “Move it asshole, I need gas.”

I truly hope that these are not indicators as to the type of driver Justin will grow up to be. If so, I need to call our insurance guy to give him a 12 year “heads up” that Justin will be needing extra coverage!