Day 30 -- Tuck me in

For anyone who has children--or was once a child who was not raised by leopards--you know that story time is an integral part of the bed time ritual.  In our family, we allow the Princess three story books, with a fourth story if she gets ready for bed quickly.  She can pick whatever books she chooses from her collection in her room provided that they are short and not horribly banal.  We then sit on her floor with her in Mommy's lap and Daddy reading her each book, precisely in the order she dictates.

For the last few weeks one book has been a staple of hers, and therefore been read over and over again.  Tuck Me In by Dean Hacohen offers a simple tale of animals lying on a pillow ready to be tucked in.  The Princess can do that by flipping over a half sheet of paper that serves as a blanket, and then repeat the process with another adorable animal.  The dialogue is incredibly simple, so perfect for younglings who are starting to read words.  Every animal tuck in has the same dialogue:

Narrator: Who needs to be tucked in?

Baby Whatever: I Do

Narrator: Good night, Baby Whatever.  Who else needs to be tucked in?

If you don't believe me, see the pictures below.  (We'll talk about your trust issues later.)

Although, the story must have been a little tame for the Princess.  I say this as she she has started to add angst-ridden dialogue for the various animal sleepers.  The story now has grown into problems revolving around sleep toys and a rather hungry alligator (who gets "tucked in" on page 7).  And while the story changes on a nightly basis, tonight it went a little something like this:

Narrator:  Who needs to be tucked in?

Baby Pig:  I do!

Narrator:  Good night, Baby Pig.  Do you have you sleep toy?

Baby Pig:  No.

Narrator:  What happened to it?

Baby Pig:  Alligator ate it.

Narrator:  Oh, no.  What did you say to him?

Baby Pig:  I said, "Don't eat my sleep toy!"

Narrator:  And what did Alligator say?

Baby Pig:  Yum.

Narrator:  That's ok, we'll make you another one in the morning.  This time it won't be made out of food.  It will be made from plastic.  Who else needs to be tucked in?

Unfortunately, we do not know why Alligator eats the toys.  It's probably that all the animal's toys are made from a meat-based product.  Or he could just be a jerk.  Whatever the reason, he's been on a tear lately and shows no remorse. 

I do know that a book that used to take 3 minutes to read now takes about 15.  And even though we read it so much that the binding has come loose, the story seems fresh and surprising every single night.

Day 29 -- What a guy needs

Lately I noticed the word "need" floating around the castle lately.  It's a weird word to notice, since it's usually pretty mundane.  However, with the right context, it conveys an urgency that no other word can substitute itself properly.  For example,. "I'm going to the emergency room," makes you seem like a wuss that can't stand a little blood.  "I need to go to the emergency room," lets everyone know that your liver just fell out one of your orifices.    

In my case, the word mostly comes from the three-year-old child who never wants anything, but needs everything.  For a snack, she needs cheddar bunnies.  She needs to watch the same Phineas and Ferb episode over and over and over and over.  Tonight she needed me to hang myself backwards off the bed so she could slide down me like she was on the playground.  

Every single need ends up life or death with her.  Suggest that she not slide down onto my neck just because she needs to "practice her sliding," and it's a ten decibel scream.  With her reaction, you would think that I just told her that Santa Claus actually hates her or Mickey Mouse had only 10 weeks to live.  Abraham Maslow developeda hierarchy of needs, and unless my psychology professor lied to me, "pouncing on the dog" wasn't on the list.  According to the Princess, though, it is right between breathing and shelter.

I've been told that the child will eventually outgrow these irrational needs.  However, now I'm attune to the word "need" and I see irrational needs all around me.  I did an informal, unscientific assessment of what people need me to do last week, and I have to say, the hope of developing a more sophisticated set of needs doesn't look promising.

Here's just a few things people needed me to do:

• I need to read this book:  Unless it's a book about getting thinner, younger and richer without getting my fat ass off the couch, I'm pretty sure I don't need to read it.  The only reason you want me to read the book is so I can agree with you on how good/bad it really is.  Basically, you need me to read the book to validate your opinion.

• I need to buy this product:  I usually only watch commercial TV during sporting events, mainly because I can get most of what I want (bad 80's sitcoms) on Netflix.  With the Superbowl and Winter Olympics on this month, there's a lot of things I now know that I need to buy.  Or do the companies need me to buy their crap so they still have profits?

• I need to see what x political party is doing to America:  I'm happy humming Funky Town to myself in a perfectly spherical bubble of ignorance.  America is not the most divided it's ever been -- that's the Civil War.  One person cannot burn down the ENTIRE country.  And as far as I know, most people are too busy working to worry about who's screwing who.  It's really the politicians who need me to pay attention so they can get my vote.

• I need to get on board:  OK, Mom.  I don't even know what method of conveyance I'm supposed to get on.  A luxury liner?  I'm down with that.  A garbage barge?  I think I'll pass.  Why don't you give me a little more information of what you actually want from me?  When I hear this, usually it means that someone me to shut up and let them do whatever they want.

• I need to take out the garbage:  Yeah, this one's true.  It stinks and I think that it tried to eat the dog earlier today.  I already had the garbage standoff with the Queen early in our marriage, and she's content to stack cans and boxes on the counter until it reaches the sky.  So if I want a clean house, I have to take it out.

I guess we all live with unreasonable needs.  I know every once and a while I need a drink or a new set of titanium golf clubs (*hint, hint*).  Some of us need a day out or a romantic night in.  Almost every day someone tells me that they need a vacation.  Even the Joker in Tim Burton's Batman exclaimed that "This town needs an enema."

And right now, I need to end this post so I can get some sleep.  So I will.

Day 28 -- The art of saying the wrong thing

I once heard that 96% of all human verbal communication comes from non-conversations.  At least I think I heard that. Maybe I just contrived that percentage.  Could well be, since 86% of all stats are made up.

Whatever the percentage, most of our talking comes with predefined scripts that happen automatically.  For example: when I'm at the store and check out, the cashier should tell me to "Have a nice day."  In which I reply, "You, too."  I don't even have to think of a response; it just happens.  My brain actually hears Charlie Brown's teacher, and issues the generic statement when there's silence.  I know this routine because it happens every single time I go shopping.

Except when some rebellious ne'er-do-well mucks up the whole shopping experience.  I just paid $68.35 for some printer ink and wiper fluid, received my receipt, and ready myself for a hearty "You, too."  But instead of hearing "Have a nice day," I hear, "Thanks for shopping with us."  That's not part of the plan!

My brain already heard the silence and blurted out the "You, too."  But that makes no sense.  She didn't go shopping.  I went shopping.  And even if she did happen to go shopping, it was with me.  "You, too" sounds like she just bought a watch out of my trench coat.  Or, perhaps I'm some crazy man who thinks he's actually the cashier.  What am I doing with her groceries?  And where is her change?

I can't take it back, because she already started ringing up the twenty-seven Power Bars that the dude in back of me needs.  What am I going to say, anyways, that would warrant such an interruption.

"Uh...excuse me miss.  When I said 'You, too,' I thought you said 'Have a nice day.'  In fact you said, 'Thanks for shopping with us.'  These two sentences sound nothing alike, but since I'm such a poor listener, I blurted out something completely nonsensical at the time.  I guess I should have said 'You're welcome' or 'No problem' or something like that, but I didn't.  I just want to clarify my position on the whole conversation thing that just happened.  So...have a nice day?"

That would probably get me escorted out by security.  Or beaten up by the bag boy who thinks he's her boyfriend, even though they've only spoken once outside of work.  Or scowled at by a line of angry shoppers who also can't figure out how to use the U-Check.

Instead, I'll just slink away with my head slumped low and my pride bruised.  I'll try to convince myself that nobody noticed, but I know an awkward silence when I hear it.  We both know what happened, and there's no rectifying it.  That conversation will just have to eat away at me for 37 years until I have an aneurysm in my sleep.

Plausible, since  I hear that 74% of all non-conversational screw-ups lead to death.  At least I think I heard that.