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Posts Tagged ‘Child Rearing Humor’

It is one of the duties of every dad to teach their sons how to shop for their mothers for special occasions. Someday, they will be taking time to shop for their wives.  It will not due to have an uninformed son blame his father for showing up on such occasions with gifts of hardware or household items as many urban legends go about men.  No, it requires patient instruction and modeling on the part of every father.  This is why I took our oldest son, who was about 14 at the time, with me shopping for a Valentines gift for his mother.

I have always tried to include variety and creativity in my gift shopping for my wife. Over the years I had learned that a steady supply of items from Bath and Body Works was not satisfactory.  Gifts cards were considered impersonal and jewelry was not always a choice due to finances since buying cheap jewelry proved to communicate an opposite message.  The usual candies and flowers are considered “everyday items” and not for “special occasions.”  So, as you can see, the whole shopping mission for special occasions could prove challenging.

This particular year I decided to look for some pretty negligee items, which I had not purchased for my wife in some time. We were home schooling our oldest son.  So, for an opportunity to take a break, I asked if he wanted to come along.

Hey, I’m going Valentines Day shopping for your mom.  You want to come and help me pick something out for her?

Without thinking about it, my son, seeing an opportunity to get away from school work, jumped at the chance.  “Sure!

We arrived at our local mall and I headed to a couple of stores to compare prices and items. It was then that my son began to grow suspicious.

What are you looking for, dad?” my intuitive and inquisitive Middle School son asked me.

Oh, I don’t rightly know yet”, I avoided.  In truth, I was not really sure just what I was looking for at the time.  I just had a general sense of shopping direction.

Finally, we came a cross a wonderful sale of items at Macy’s in the mall. None of the other stores were even close in price and since Macy’s is always considered a high-end store, I figured I could not go wrong.  I immediately dove into the women’s personal wear.

My son stopped in the store aisle at the edge of this particular shopping section and stared at me wide-eyed.

Dad!  What are you doing?!” he cautiously asked.  Alarmed to see his own father boldly going where no Middle School boy dared to tread.  “I’m not going in there!” he loudly whispered.

Oh, come on.  You’re shopping for you’re mother for Pete’s sake.  No one’s going to think you’re some kind of weirdo.  Besides, you’re with your father and it’s a Valentines Day sale so everyone’s going to naturally assume we are shopping for my wife and your mother.  Now, come on,” I goaded him but relished in his unsettled nervousness.

I looked around. The store was practically empty since it was just before noon on a week day.  Besides a couple of checkers, there were only one or two other ladies at the other end of the store.  One of the checkers was an older, grandmotherly looking lady who was seemed to be watching us with some amusement.  I smiled and nodded her way.  She smiled back at me.

I started looking and sorting through a few frilly night gowns and picked out a couple. I looked over at my son who was still standing nervously in the aisle looking away in the opposite direction.  I had the distinct feeling he wanted to disown me at that moment.

Hey,” I called over to him.  “I need your help.  Come hold a couple of these for me.”

He looked horrified.  “What!?!” he protested.  “No!

Aw, come on!” I countered.  “I need you to help me.  This is why I invited you to come along…so you could help me.”

Dad,” he objected, “if I had known that this was what you were going to be shopping for I would have stayed home to do school work!

What!?  And miss an opportunity to help me do something special for your mom for Valentines Day?”  This was turning out to be more fun than I had expected.  He really was afraid of see-through garments!  Of course, I knew this and would have been just as horrified at his age.  Passing the bra or panty section of the local K-Mart store was enough to turn me red then.

Well, the sooner you help me the sooner we can get out of here and get home,” I offered.  “Now, get over here and hold these.  And don’t let them drag on the floor.

Obediently, my son wound his way through garment racks and scantily dressed mannequins until he reached me. I held out the night gowns I had picked out to him.  He gingerly took them as if they were breakable items.  Then he quickly glanced around the store.  I don’t know who he was afraid of seeing.  It was not like as if any of his friends would be venturing into this department.  That is, of course, unless they had fathers like me.  Then it was pretty much ‘anything goes.’

I moved on to another rack but my son stood rooted to the spot I left him.

What are you doing?” I asked.  “Follow me.

He shuffled over behind me and followed, gently holding the garments at arms length in front of him.

Don’t let those touch the floor,” I said loudly enough for the checkers to hear.  I looked at him.  He smiled at me because he suddenly got that I was having fun at his expense.

I can’t believe you’d drag me away from my schoolwork to shop for ladies items with you,” he protested.  “This is just wrong.”

Hey,” I bantered back to him.  “I didn’t twist your arm and make you come.  You volunteered on your own.  It’s not my fault that you didn’t ask what we going to shopping for.”

Canadian Geese Goslings, June 2008

Canadian Geese Goslings, June 2008 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

As we wandered in and around the clothes racks, I came upon a table with a variety of ladies lacy underwear. I suddenly arrived at a fun idea.  I picked out several, one at a time, and handed them to my son who took them with his other hand.  Now he was draped with ladies intimate apparel.  Nightgowns held up on hangers in one hand.  Panties gripped in the other hand.  A face of growing dismay glowing red in between.

You’re doing a great job!” I offered in encouragement.  “I think we have what we need.”  There was a look of relief that came across my son’s face.

We approached the check-out counter.  “I am going to buy these,” I said, pointing to the panties.  “Not those,” I indicated by pointing to the nightgowns.  The kindly elderly woman nodded and smiled.

But my son objected, “What?!  Why did I carry those around?” he asked.

Well, because I liked them at first.  Plus, it was fun watching you carry them around.”

The grandmotherly checker snickered.

My son was old enough by now to be on to me and he smiled a sort of wry smile knowing that he had been caught up in one of his dad’s games.  “Oh, I get it,” he replied.  “You better not tell anyone about this – ever!

Sure,” I offered.  “Fat chance of that,‘ I thought to myself.  “This experience is going to have some fun mileage on it.”

Later, we bought a cute little flowery box, rolled and tucked the pretty underthings for his mom into the box. Then we went to a flower shop and asked the florist to deliver the flowers with the box to my wife where she worked – at a local elementary school.  Later, I learned that she received the flowers and special box at her lunch break and to the delight of fellow-teachers in the teachers lounge opened the box with its contents for all to see.

And that,” my dearest son, “is how you shop for the woman you love and show her how much you love her.

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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One of the joys of being a father is the utter delight of embarrassing your children – intentionally. Most parents, particularly of teenagers, are already aware that their mere existence is a complete humiliation to their pre-adult progeny.  So, I figure, since I am already on the top of the list of “The Most Uncool People in the World,” why not go the distance with it and have some fun?

This, of course, does not ingratiate me to my children. It may contribute to the cost of their therapy after they leave home.  But I figure they will be on their own insurance by then anyway so, since it will not cost me anything by way of insurance co-pays, why not have fun at their expense?  (Albeit sometime in the future.)  If anything, it will lend to me in my old age a few moments in which I will be able to sit in a lounge chair, recall a favorite memory of such times, and chuckle to myself, “Heh, heh, heh.”

On one particular occasion, I was with a couple of my children in a local K-Mart store shopping for the regular household items that requires one to make a special shopping trip to such a store. As we were wondering around looking for whatever particular item we needed, a wonderful opportunity presented itself for me to have fun with my kids.   Not one to miss an opportunity for a family bonding moment, I pounced upon the fatherly inspired idea.

We had just passed, for the second time, the sporting goods section of the store. Thrown together in a caged basket was an assortment of men’s and boy’s sports-cup protectors.  They were being offered at a great discount price.  More importantly, they were loose and unpackaged.

Now, there are two types of people in this world. One type would look at the disorganized assortment of sports gear for male genitalia and think, “What a mess?  How disorganized and unsanitary!  Who in their right mind would put these out there like that and expect them to sell?”  On the other hand, they may sniff at such an unprofessional display of merchandise and yet see a bargain and pick up one or two.  After all, you never know when a child, sibling, or male friend may need one.

Then there are the other types of individuals: These types of people pass such a display and snicker.  They immediately see the mischief one could have with such loose and easily available items like these – especially like these.  These are probably the same individuals who in high school, and perhaps even college, arrived early to biology class so as to give the classroom’s skeleton model an interesting pose for fellow students and teacher as they arrived to class.  This type of humor is highly developed and approaches a level not reached by the aforementioned types of people.

I am not sure which camp I fall into – probably somewhere in-between. I will freely admit to the fact that having pre-teens and teenagers in my house now for a number of years has definitely figured into my evolution as a human being.  My children would argue that I have devolved; well, and perhaps my wife too.  I like to think of it as a higher level of unconsciousness; a near numbing psychological nirvana.

Burnt Cathedral, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, June 2008

Burnt Cathedral, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, June 2008 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

My muscles of self-restraint are not what they once were in my more conservative younger days. When we passed the sports aisle for the second or third time, I succumbed to my whimsical idea of humoring my children midway through a boring journey of looking for an average, unmemorable household item.  I grabbed one of those sports-cup protectors and placed it over my nose and mouth.  Then, doing my best James Earl Jones impression, aka “Darth Vader,” I turned to them and declared, “(Wehhhhh…Whoooooo….) Kids, I am your father!

The look from my children was a mixed reaction. One thought it was hilarious; one thought it was ridiculous; and one was frightened.  The frightened one looked as if she wanted to pinch herself and cry out, “No!!!  Wake up!  Wake up!”  As if she was in some type of nightmare and bad dream.  Clearly not all my children get their full compliment of genetic material from my side of the family.  It was a good thing their mother was not there.

Recalling this event time and again for my children continues to bring me joy. I am convinced that it is a formative moment in their upbringing.  Even now, they cannot remember what the household item we were shopping for that day was; but they all can vividly remember that event.  Never underestimate the power of an embarrassing moment.

While they may not appreciate it now, I just know that someday, when they have pre-teens or teenagers for themselves, they are really going to appreciate this very important life lesson. One day, they too could be walking down a sports aisle, see a loose, unpackaged sports-cup protector and ask their kids, “Hey!  You want to see something your grandfather taught me?

©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2010)

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Did you hear about the Texas Teacher who was helping one of her kindergarten students put on his cowboy boots? He asked for help and she could see why.

Even with her pulling and him pushing, the little boots still didn’t want to go on. Finally, when the second boot was on, she had worked up a sweat.

She almost cried when the little boy said, “Teacher, they’re on the wrong feet.”

She looked and sure enough, they were. It wasn’t any easier pulling the boots off than it was putting them on. She managed to keep her cool as together they worked to get the boots back on – this time on the right feet.

He then announced, “These aren’t my boots.”

She bit her tongue rather than get right in his face and scream, “Why didn’t you say so?” like she wanted to. And, once again she struggled to help him pull the ill-fitting boots off his little feet. No sooner they got the boots off and he said, “They’re my brother’s boots. My Mom made me wear ’em.”

Now she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. But, she mustered up the grace and courage she had left to wrestle the boots on his feet again.

Helping him into his coat, she asked, “Now, where are your mittens?” He said, “I stuffed ’em in the toes of my boots.”

Her trial starts next month.

[author unknown]

Gerber Picante Sauce

Gerber Picante Sauce

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BELT SANDER: An electric sanding tool commonly used to convert minor touch-up jobs into major refinishing jobs.

CRAFTSMAN 1/2 x 24-INCH SCREWDRIVER: A very large pry bar that inexplicably has an accurately machined screwdriver tip on the end opposite the handle.

DREMEL TOOL: A very useful tool for modelers which allows them to make more mistakes much faster, thereby turning $100 kits into spare parts, and completely justifying the purchase of another $100 kit.

DRILL PRESS: A tall upright machine useful for suddenly snatching flat metal bar stock out of your hands so that it smacks you in the chest and flings your canned drink across the room, splattering it against that freshly stained heirloom piece you were drying.

EIGHT-FOOT LONG YELLOW PINE 2X4: Used for levering an automobile upward off of a trapped hydraulic jack handle.

ELECTRIC HAND DRILL: Normally used for spinning pop rivets in their holes until you die of old age.

HACKSAW: One of a family of cutting tools built on the Ouija board principle. It transforms human energy into a crooked, unpredictable motion, and the more you attempt to influence its course, the more dismal your future becomes.

HAMMER: Originally employed as a weapon of war, the hammer nowadays is used as a kind of divining rod to locate the most expensive parts adjacent to the object we are trying to hit.  Also used as replacement for screwdriver.

HOSE CUTTER: A tool used to make hoses too short.

HYDRAULIC FLOOR JACK: Used for lowering an automobile to the ground after you have installed your new brake shoes, trapping the jack handle firmly under the bumper.

MECHANIC’S KNIFE: Used to open and slice through the contents of cardboard cartons delivered to your front door; works particularly well on contents such as seats, vinyl records, liquids in plastic bottles, collector magazines, refund checks, and rubber or plastic parts. Especially useful for slicing work clothes, but only while in use.

OXYACETYLENE TORCH: Used almost entirely for lighting various flammable objects in your shop on fire. Also handy for igniting the grease inside the wheel hub you want the bearing race out of.

PHILLIPS SCREWDRIVER: Normally used to stab the vacuum seals under lids and for opening old-style paper-and-tin oil cans and splashing oil on your shirt; but can also be used, as the name implies, to strip out Phillips screw heads.

PLIERS: Used to round off bolt heads. Sometimes used in the creation of blood-blisters.

RADIAL ARM SAW: A large stationary power-saw primarily used by most shops to scare neophytes into choosing another line of work.

SKIL SAW: A portable cutting tool used to make studs too short.

STRAIGHT SCREWDRIVER: A tool for opening paint cans. Sometimes used to convert common slotted screws into non-removable screws.

TABLE SAW: A large stationary power tool commonly used to launch wood projectiles for testing wall integrity.

TWEEZERS: A tool for removing wood splinters and wire-wheel wires.

TWO-TON ENGINE HOIST: A tool for testing the maximum tensile strength of everything you forgot to disconnect.

VISE-GRIPS: Generally used after pliers to completely round off bolt heads. If nothing else is available, they can also be used to transfer intense welding heat to the palm of your hand.

WELDING GLOVES: Heavy-duty leather gloves used to prolong the conduction of intense welding heat to the palm of your hand.

WHITWORTH SOCKETS: Once used for working on older British cars and motorcycles, they are now used mainly for impersonating that 9/16 or 1/2 inch socket you’ve been searching for the last 45 minutes.

WIRE WHEEL: Cleans paint off bolts and then throws them somewhere under the workbench with the speed of light. Also removes fingerprints and hard-earned guitar calluses from fingers in about the time it takes you to say, “YEOWW!”

[author unknown]

changing diapers

changing diapers

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Following are answers given by elementary school-age children to the given questions:

Why did God make mothers?
1. She’s the only one who knows where the Scotch Tape is.
2. Think about it. It was the best way to get more people.
3. Mostly to clean the house.
4. To help us out of there when we were getting born.

How did God make mothers?
1. He used dirt, just like for the rest of us.
2. Magic, plus super powers, and a lot of stirring.
3. God made my mom just the same like he made me. He just used bigger parts.

Why did God give you your mother and not some other mom?
1. We are related.
2. God knew she likes me a lot more than other people’s moms like me.

What ingredients are mothers made of?
1. God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything nice in the world and one dab of mean.
2. They had to get their start from men’s bones. Then they mostly use string. I think.

What kind of little girl was your mom?
1. My mom has always been my mom and none of that other stuff.
2. I don’t know because I wasn’t there, but my guess would be pretty bossy.
3. They say she used to be nice.

How did your mom meet your dad?
1. Mom was working in a store and dad was shoplifting.

What did mom need to know about dad before she married him?
1. His last name.
2. She had to know his background. Like is he a crook? Does he get drunk on beer? Does he make at least $800 a year? Did he say NO to drugs and YES to chores?

Why did your mom marry your dad?
1. My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world. And my mom eats a lot.
2. She got too old to do anything else with him.
3. My grandma says that mom didn’t have her thinking cap on.

What makes a real woman?
1. It means you have to be really bossy without looking bossy.

Who’s the boss at your house?
1. Mom doesn’t want to be boss, but she has to because Dad is such a goofball.
2. Mom. You can tell by room inspection. She sees the stuff under the bed.
3. I guess Mom is, but only because she has a lot more to do than Dad.

What’s the difference between moms and dads?
1. Moms work at work and work at home, and dads just work at work.
2. Moms know how to talk to teachers without scaring them.
3. Dads are taller and stronger, but moms have all the real power because that’s who you have to ask if you want to
sleep over at your friend’s.

What does your mom do in her spare time?
1. Mothers don’t have spare time.
2. To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What’s the difference between moms and grandmas?
1. About 30 years.
2. You can always count on grandmothers for candy. Sometimes moms don’t even have bread on them.

Describe the world’s greatest mom?
1. She would be able to make broccoli taste like ice cream.
2. The greatest mom in the world wouldn’t make me kiss my fat aunts.
3. She’d always be smiling and keep her opinions to herself.

Is anything about your mom perfect?
1. Her teeth are perfect, but she bought them from the dentist.
2. Her casserole recipes. But we hate them.
3. Just her children.

What would it take to make your mom perfect?
1. On the inside she’s already perfect. Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.
2. Diet. You know, her hair. I’d dye it, maybe blue.

If you could change one thing about your mom, what would it be?
1. She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean. I’d get rid of that.
2. I’d make my mom smarter — then she would know my sister did it and not me.

(author unknown)

Never Having Kids

Never Having Kids

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Again, this is something that did not originate with me.  It is funny to read aloud.  Someone passed this along to me in 2007.  Like others like this, I enjoy rereading it and sharing it every year with my friends.  It brings out the holiday spirit in me…

Dear Santa,

I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor’s office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter’s girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son’s red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I’ll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I’d like a pair of legs that don’t ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don’t flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.  I’d also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you’re hauling big ticket items this year, I’d like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn’t broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don’t fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.  I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, “Don’t eat in the living room” and “Take your hands off your brother”, because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

And please don’t forget the Playdoh Travel Pak, the hottest stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-law’s house seem just like mine.

If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container. If you don’t mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable?  It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn’t look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door.  I think he wants his crayon back.  Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don’t catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don’t eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours always…..

Mom

PS: One more thing…you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.

(author unknown)

Balsam Flower Hillside, April 2002

Balsam Flower Hillside, April 2002 ©Weatherstone/Ron Almberg, Jr. (2009)

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