Thursday, January 5, 2012


“Everyman has his own destiny: The only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him.”

― Henry Miller

Sorry, Sheriff, but your speaking days are numbered. There is really nothing I can do about it. I will try. Oh, believe me I will try. But, you see, you are a marked man. That little string that comes out of your back with that little plastic circle tied to it is, dare I say, destined to be cut. I will delay it as long as I can, but the question isn’t if – the question is when.

Poor Sheriff Woody.

You see, when our Little Man sets his mind to something, it will get done. I think the author of the Gospel of Matthew was speaking to our little boy when he wrote “Ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you.” Hide the ipad from him, he will find it. Lock the entertainment center, he will find a way in. I could bore you to tears with stories of the Little Man and his Sherlock Homes-ian ability to figure something out and to get what it is he desires – consistently out-foxing our feeble efforts to restrain him. We finally had to password protect our computer since no hiding space was safe. Still, we think he will figure out how to hack or bypass the password. It is comical to the nth degree. Except, of course, when it isn’t.

Did I mention his grandmother has some beautiful urban wall art in her study? Yep. It says MONKEY.  Right there on the drywall.  It miraculously appeared right after the Little Man found the hiding place for the Sharpies. (Sorry again grandmom).

But, back to our ill-fated law enforcer. Poor, poor Sheriff Woody. Santa was kind enough to bring the hero from the Toy Story series to our youngest, replete with an operational, voice activating pull string. Then the thought entered the Little Man’s head. The demons...

Attempt One: He comes to my wife holding the small stuffed doll, with the string pulled out and says…”Mommy, I want scissors please.” Uhhh… No we are not going to give you scissors to cut the string.

Attempt Two: This time sans Woody doll. “Daddy, I want scissors please.” Okay, not an unusual request since he frequently cuts his artwork out of paper. So I get the scissors out of the hiding place, I prompt him to say “Daddy I want to cut………” and he responds “Woody, please.” No. No. No.

Attempt Three: The Little Man stealthily discovers the hiding place for the scissors. And the Little Boy, who normally talks non-stop from wake up until his body shuts off, is silent. Silence is bad. I catch a glimpse of him running out of the kitchen and into our “playroom.” I got there just in time. The string was extended and the scissors were in place as I ran in and grabbed his cutting hand. New hiding place for the scissors!

You better get while the getting is good Sheriff. I hear the Sunnyside Daycare is nice this time of year.

No comments:

Post a Comment