The Twinkies are 5 - Greatest Birthday in the History of Ever
I have more updates for
this blog then guys who slept with my wife’s college roommate. Anna had a few
college roommates so it’s difficult to remember which one slept with more guys
but it was probably a three-way tie. Coincidentally, they all were in a three way
together.
I kind of dread their birthdays. They realized last year that they get presents and that’s all they ask about.
I hate it when my kids act like spoiled brats, and all they do is act like spoiled brats when they open presents. “I want to open my presents NOW.” “I wanted the red car not the blue car.” “No one can play with MY toys.”
Argh!
Don’t even get me started on adults that think the world stops because it’s their birthday. I’ll write a book about that later.
I refuse to have the twinkies believe that my entire being on this planet is to throw them a birthday party with presents. Sure, I want my occasional gift fromThe Sharper Image catalog like all men with penises and an airline ticket. But this has gone TOO far for pay day may day; I’m working on a new catch phrase. Needs work.
My frustration got to me and I made some broad parent threat like, “If you keep acting like this I will take all your presents away!!!” Then Xavier started crying and crying and yelled, “I want to go back to Chicago”.
This was the first time he said that since we moved and I felt worse than when someone over hears me talking about their mom. He kept crying and crying until Anna got him to tell us why. He said he wanted his basement back, and his train set and the toys that he liked.
In our old house he would go and play in the basement all the time. Now, we are all crammed into a three bedroom apartment and I guess he just realized we never brought all the old toys. Yes, I’m a mean dad but these kids have to realize that um, parents are mean.
Stay with me…………..
The Twinkies turned five
years old on Tuesday. They got up very early to ask me if they were five yet.
When I told them they were now 5, Xavier yelled “Yes, I’ve always wanted to be
five”. Stella asked if her shoes would
still fit. OMG, get these kids a Twitter account because this stuff is gold. 
They each got a cupcake with a candle.
Stella opened a gift
from my mom with the comment, “I love my new Mexican doll.” We had no idea
where that came from. The doll was clearly Spanish. We referred to the doll as
“The Mexican Doll” until she named it “Girl with the Rabbit” because she came
with a small rabbit stuffed animal. Not
sure which name was better.
If God loved me even
though I don’t believe in him, he would have sent a doll with a pussy cat
stuffed animal instead of a rabbit. Then he would have given me a daughter they
couldn’t pronounce the word “cat”.I kind of dread their birthdays. They realized last year that they get presents and that’s all they ask about.
I hate it when my kids act like spoiled brats, and all they do is act like spoiled brats when they open presents. “I want to open my presents NOW.” “I wanted the red car not the blue car.” “No one can play with MY toys.”
Argh!
Don’t even get me started on adults that think the world stops because it’s their birthday. I’ll write a book about that later.
I refuse to have the twinkies believe that my entire being on this planet is to throw them a birthday party with presents. Sure, I want my occasional gift fromThe Sharper Image catalog like all men with penises and an airline ticket. But this has gone TOO far for pay day may day; I’m working on a new catch phrase. Needs work.
My frustration got to me and I made some broad parent threat like, “If you keep acting like this I will take all your presents away!!!” Then Xavier started crying and crying and yelled, “I want to go back to Chicago”.
This was the first time he said that since we moved and I felt worse than when someone over hears me talking about their mom. He kept crying and crying until Anna got him to tell us why. He said he wanted his basement back, and his train set and the toys that he liked.
In our old house he would go and play in the basement all the time. Now, we are all crammed into a three bedroom apartment and I guess he just realized we never brought all the old toys. Yes, I’m a mean dad but these kids have to realize that um, parents are mean.
This is how I found them in the dining room last week.
They each took turns being a weido
Later I found Stella with her feet in a pot of water.
I asked her "Why?" and she said,
"This is what people do before painting their nails"
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