NEW RELEASES
More Like Eddie Haskell
“You need to talk to the boy.”
That’s what I heard when I walked into the house from work. When the heck did I become Ward Cleaver?
“I’ve had it up to here with him. Seriously. You better go talk with him.”
Deep sigh. “What did he do?” I ask. The answer could be so many things. That boy is in any number of trouble pretty much all the time.
My Honey went to the grocery store today. Apparently when The Bandit came home from school he devoured 3 strawberry yogurts, 1/2 can of Pringles, 2 juice boxes and some string cheese. All of this in a matter of 45 minutes. And he never disposes of the evidence. He just leaves it scattered about like a grizzly bear in a camp ground.
I suggested that we hang the refrigerator from a tree like you would if there were actually bears about. Or we could chain the refrigerator closed. This child is constantly eating – except when there is an actual meal on the table. That he looks at, turns up his nose, and says, “Nnnnnnneeeeevvvvaaaaaah!”
I don’t know what we’re going to do when this child hits puberty and needs to eat constantly like a shark.
Anyway, to placate his father, I talked to the boy. For all the good it was worth. My child doesn’t seem to learn life lessons in 1/2 hour like the Beaver did. How was that for truth in advertising?
When I heard that Joey, the boy who had run naked to the neighbors’ house at a very young age, had received a case of spaghettios from a friend when he graduated from high school, I was stunned. He had claimed that I had fed him that disgusting food for four years, until he graduated. What a complete lie! I have absolutely NO recollection of having done that! In fact,I was a pretty good cook back then.
Now he is the father of twin children, a boy and a girl–Keillor and Emaline. I have no doubt that he will NEVER feed them spaghettios! He and his wife Aimee are way too savvy to ever bring that kind of food into their house. They are the consumate parents. They have the most creative toys, the most elite wardrobe that can be found on the market, thanks to their parents and friends, and the most wonderful invention called “Gift Cards.”
We live at least 2000 miles away from our youngest grandchildren, which means that they will probably never know just how hip we are, and how fun we are to be around, unless they win the lottery and can come to visit us on a whim. That is not likely to happen in my lifetime, so they will have to rely on their parents to tell them just how we helped to shape their lives over the years. Like that’s going to happen!