What was I thinkin'?

Come over here a minute. Peek through this window into the stay-at-homer's world. Just don't tell anyone about what you see ---

Here's a story I heard recently from a friend of mine. Not me. A friend of mine. Definitely not me. Got it?!

So this friend of mine who is not me got himself into quite a pickle. Imagine this friend of mine who is not me trying to clean up junk out of the yard one fine afternoon. Everywhere he looks he sees dirt-covered toys that have not seen love and attention since the Reagan administration. Long forgotten mini footballs, plastic golf clubs, half-inflated inner tubes, and a few toys that have become somewhat unrecognizable. All remnants of a time before little Michael discovered computers (more on that topic in a future posting).

So this friend of mine who is not me began the arduous task of transporting this collection of misfit toys out of the yard and into some semblance of order on the patio. Most of the toys are hosed off and placed neatly in a pile, awaiting the moment little Michael discovers this orderly pile and immediately hauls the toys back out into the yard. (Michael and my friend who is not me have drastically different definitions of "order." My friend who is not me likes to label Michael's decorating style as "modern urban messy").

My friend who is not me, in one of his weaker moments, opts to throw away some of the more unrecognizable toys. In his defense, these are toys that little Michael has not even looked at for at least two years (he's 4, by the way). If he ever played with them at all.

One of the more tattered toys was a small stuffed bee covered in mud. Not an actual stuffed animal, mind you, but a remnant of a baby toy that I only remember as "the pad thingy that played classical music when baby Michael kicked it."

I'm guessing that all experienced parents of toddlers out there can fill in the rest of this sad tale of woe. Little Michael approached my friend who is not me early this morning as I, I mean my friend, stepped out of the shower. His little eyes were filled with tears and his voice quivered with stunning sadness as he exclaimed, "I ... sob, sob .... can't .... sob, sob ... find my ..... sooooobbbbb.... BEE!!!!!"

This particular sentence actually frightened my friend who is not me, as he pictured little Michael chasing an actual bee around the yard and finally discovering why Dad breaks out his patented "bee dance" each summer.

But thankfully Michael clarified himself before my friend who is not me suffered full cardiac arrest. "My PLAY bee .... sob, sob .... I can't find my PLAY bee .... sob!"

This is when my friend who is not me realized the sheer stupidity of his actions. Of course! Michael's play bee! The same "play bee" that Michael hasn't actually played with since he was a baby, and left out in the yard to rot! Why wouldn't Michael arbitrarily want to play with this forgotten toy the moment my friend who is not me threw it out? It makes perfect sense!

This parenting thing is hard!

Never throw away your toys kiddies!

- Dave