Skip to main content

Walking the dog.

I actually can get along quite well with little kids. And in a totally non-creepy way. It's got something to do with me not actually ever growing up completely, I guess. I'm still desperately clinging on to my childhood persona. And it lets me relate to younger people with much success. On of my friends talked to me at length about such things and we decided we were both at the advantage since we both were in the same situation in that regard.

It's why I have more fun drawing Ben the Box Boy than all the other stuff.

But I don't like kids when they go through my room and touch my things. Or worse, talk to me. My dad had invited some work friends over for the weekend, and one brought his son. As soon as he got inside the house he disappeared up the stairs. When I got upstairs I found him rifling through my bookshelf, toys, and closet. And playing with a yo-yo in my room. The second time I came upstairs he confronted me. "You have a lot of knives sitting around in your room." He said. "No," I replied. "I don't." He led me back into my room and showed me the knife collection that had apparently been left on my bookshelf. The camping knife from the top of the shelf, the pocket knife from my desk, the pocket knife from my backpack, the dive knife from the dive bag in the closet--all unsheathed and unfolded. It was beyond him, apparently, to figure out how to put them away.

Or, you know, to just not go through somebody's things in the first place. I find myself consistently disappointed in the parents I see these days who seem to be unable to control their children. Is it so hard to discipline your kids? To instill a sense of boundaries and proper behavior? This kid was going into 6th grade and he, for whatever reason, felt he had the right to go through everyone's personal belongings. We were apparently not the only family who fell victim to his marauding.

I put my hand on his shoulder and firmly guided him out of my room. "I'm not entirely sure what makes you think you're entitled to go through my things," I said softly. "But I can assure you that you are absolutely not. You are not welcome in my room, you are not welcome upstairs, you are not even welcome on the stairs." I continued guiding him down the stairwell as I spoke. "You can sit on the sofa in the living room for the remainder of your visit," I said. "And if you get up from it for any reason, we will have a serious problem. Am I understood?" He looked up at me, tears welling in his eyes. "Yes." He said. "Yes?" I asked. "Yes, sir." He said.

And, to his credit, he stayed on the sofa until he went home.

Comments

Carolynn said…
You're either going to be an awesome dad or a scary dad someday.
July 15, 2010 at 12:15 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely.  Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung.   There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....
2 comments
Read more

I'm a geologist, not an alcoholic.

I thought I had seen people drink before. Hell, I thought that I had drank before. But, clearly, I thought wrong on both of those counts. I cannot, for the life of me, think of a reason to justify all of the drinking that transpired down there last week. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it just was. Field work just makes a man thirsty. Taking this class was easily one of the best things I've ever done. We worked hard every day out in the field. Wake up at 7, leave the beach house by 8, hit the water by 9. My first three field days were in service on the R/V Acadiana , a 58 foot vessel that towed the CHIRP fish , the air gun, and the streamer to measure all the seismic data--looking at the subsurface of the seafloor we drove over. My second ship was the R/V Itasca using the multibeam , sidescan , and grab sampler --getting seafloor surface bathymetry. They were long, exhausting days and we returned to the docks around 6 or 7 every evening. And then, drinking. So much ...
1 comment
Read more

Yeah, that is not okay.

So stuff is okay, I guess. Things are alright. My friend and I are actually making some decent headway on our project. It's been such a long time since I've made a movie. Actually made a movie. Not just started it. I feel pretty good about where this is going, though. That's good. It's a good thing. I'm pretty excited about it, honestly. I think the scripts we've written so far are pretty funny. They are probably not as funny as I think. I tend to get unreasonably close to my work. That's okay, I guess. I think a lot of people tend to do that. It makes it hard to hear criticism. I have no problem with handing out the criticisms, though. That's always fun. Actually it is not all that fun. I know how they feel. That's okay. We're just having some casting issues, I guess. We're planning for a lot of side characters to come in for one-shots episodes, but we haven't quite managed to fill those out. Or develop the characters...
1 comment
Read more