Who’s the weirdo?

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kids are fucking weird. you know it. i know it. EVERYONE knows it. even if you don’t have kids, chances are, you’ve seen one. cripes, YOU USED TO BE ONE. they are weird: undeniable fact. 

as if the unavoidable weirdness weren’t enough, all kids are different. i have read/heard that particular phrase, and variations of it, countless times, but i never quite realized how true it was until now, when i have 3 of my own little weirdos. they have genetics in common, but that’s about it. infinite possibilities for weirdness. 

first of all, my oldest, #1. he’s actually the least weird of my brood: cool as a cucumber, probably the most mellow child on the face of the earth. well, ok maybe that in itself isn’t weird. but what gets me is that despite his seeming normality {is that even a word??}, more and more frequently, i find myself utterly shocked to hear random bursts of foolishness and quick-witted one-liners shoot from this usually soft-spoken boy. that shouldn’t surprise me too much-he is MY son after all, and it was only a matter of time before my twisted sense of humour began to influence him. still, sometimes this knowledge does nothing to prepare me for his infrequent, yet oh-so-wise exclamations. take for example, this past year’s CFL Gray Cup game {for those of you who don’t know, this is Canadian Football… stfu RIGHT NOW, it IS real football!!!} anywho… the game was about to start, kick off was less than 30 seconds away, and BF had just walked in the door. immediately, #1 hopped from his spot next to me on the couch and yelled at his dad, “the game is on!! don’t yell, don’t talk, don’t BREATHE… DON’T EVEN FART!!!” i choked on my game day beer and we all fell down in hysterics. i missed the damn kick off, but it was totally worth it. 

then there’s #2, my middle child. he’s bossy, opinionated, and HE IS NEVER WRONG. basically, a little clone of his father. all of this may seem normal for a 5 year old, but don’t be fooled.. this little fart has the weird. people who don’t live here wouldn’t know it, but this kid is a borderline nudist! the second he walks in the door from school or anywhere else that requires clothing {ohhh you know, EVERYWHERE}, clothes go flying in all directions {think tazmanian devil}, until he is stripped down to his undies. this happens in ALL seasons. it’s even gone so far that he often takes me aside when we have company to ask how long they are staying and if i can “make them leave” so he can “get comfy”. the funniest part of this strange hatred of clothing, however, is when someone drops in unexpectedly. i have a little giggle to myself every time the door opens and he drops everything and immediately sprints at top speed, demolishing everything in his path to get to his room and into the hated clothes. well, at least he’s modest and doesn’t let it all hang out regardless of who is visiting. god knows what my poor mother and other family members would think.

last, but definitely not least, there’s #3, the queen of the weird. weird and evil. {which you’d agree with if you’ve ever read ‘the unholy ritual’. if you haven’t, it basically is a breakdown of her highness’ nighttime routine, which borders on the INSANE}
this child of mine has defied nearly every developmental milestone by rolling over and sitting up unassisted at 5 months, pulling up to stand at 6 months, and walking at 8 months. i should have known at that point that shit was just not going to be normal. as of now, i can’t say that anything she does is weird, by toddler standards. she’s a pretty normal 2 year old.. you know, driving parents absolutely batshit insane, throwing massive tantrums, and screaming loudly and at such a high pitch that i’m surprised there is any glass left unshattered on this STREET.
BUT, what she does do, is MAKE us weird. now, with the boys, we never did do any of the foolish gibberish baby-talking. we frowned upon parents who did so, in fact. but BAM we have this girl, our only daughter and last child, and now every morning, every time she wakes up from a nap, and every time we come back from wherever the hell we were, we SCREAM gibberish. in weird voices. repeatedly. if people who knew us ever heard the non-words and sounds that this little girl inspired coming from our mouths, calls would be made and we would be locked up. for reals. now it’s hard to describe through typing but i will try.
^those are just some of weird nicknames we have for her. then there’s also the way our freaking voices sound. ugh. we sound just like a couple of highly medicated, extremely elderly mental patients. the sad part is, i don’t think that this gibberish has ever even served its purpose of entertaining her. and since she has been able to walk, her reaction has simply been to walk away and ignore us until the fits of foolishness were over. poor child. 

wow. so i started this post trying to show how weird kids can be, and it seems that i’ve just ended up making myself {and poor BF} look like lunatics. well, i guess we probably are. but that’s part of the joys of parenthood. it makes you a little crazy. and really, when you think of it, if you weren’t at least a little on the nutso side, you couldn’t handle this shit. what well-adjusted, “normal” human being wants to be up at all hours feeding the wee ones and wiping asses, watching countless hours of acid trip inspired “children’s” shows, cutting food into weird shapes and ensuring none of it touches on the plate, constantly refereeing fights even better than “big john” maccarthy {UFC}, or any of the other insane shit that our kids make us do? 
Posted on March 3, 2012 by Holdin' Holden 2 Comments
Holdin' Holden

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