All we need are the $12 cocktails

Sometimes I feel like I am the straight man for the boys' comedy. I set them up and they serve up a big punchline. Maybe I get to be the butt of the jokes because I have a "humongous bottom," but that's another post. All we need to make this comedy act complete is a rim shot and a big round of applause.

Take for example this weekend. Little Dog had raided the toys at Grandma and Grandpa's house and was running around "fixing" things with the toy drill. He was having one hell of a time, but many of the things he wanted fix were things I had previously said were hands off for little boys. (Yeah, he's working the system, big time) So instead of continuing to say "no" for the 674th time, I changed tactics. Those parenting experts always tell frazzled parents to try diverting attention from what you don't want them to do and point them in the direction of something that you do want them to do, or at least don't care if they do, right? So I throw out a suggestion, "Hey Little Dog, my foot is broken, can you fix my foot?"
He runs right over, and with a little encouragement, mostly in the form of funny noises and silly faces while he repairs my imaginary damage, he gets into my alternative game. First he fixes the foot, then my wrist, my knees, my ear, my nose. You get the idea. We're giggling and for once those child rearing experts seem to have hit on something with this diversion concept.

After a bit we're making so much noise with our giggles and repair sounds, Big Dog decides to check out the action. With Hot Wheels in hand, he surveys the scene. "Little Dog is fixing your broken down mama," I explain. Then Big Dog, feeling the need to get in on the act, runs his car across my collar bones. "Here mommy, I'm going to fix you too!" After the car runs back and forth a few times, he sits back, satisfied with his work and exclaims, "See mommy, I fixed your boobs!"

Ba-Dum-BUM! Thank you, thank you. Don't forget to tip your servers!
Maybe I should self-impose a two drink minimum.