Hey Ho, Let's Go

Pride is hard. Uncle Bob said even a cowboy's got to swallow his pride sometimes, because, you know, pride's one of those seven deadlies. Uncle Bob was a wise man. It was sad about him dying in that fiery explosion over at the oil refinery. You know, the one caused by the lightning strike? Ok. Not as sad as trying to glean life lessons from Urban Cowboy but still, pride has always confused me.

I think it stems from my school days. My hometown had a lot of holy rollers. And did they ever roll, I'm talking hard, going off on things like pride. They claimed pride was in the top seven of the devil's deadly sins parade.

Then, those same folk, who had spoken so passionately about the evilness of pride, would be the ones who lost their shit bad, at our pep rallies. They would yell, scream, some would cry, to show how much pride they had. At my high school the class that yelled the loudest, collectively, was deemed to have the most pride. If your class had the most pride on a given week, then it was awarded the spirit stick. People wanted that stick, especially the holy rollers.

The contradiction is mind boggling, especially when you consider that the spirit stick was a giant paddle. Seriously. Go Sandites! No wonder I'm so fucked up...but as always I digress. My point.

This past Sunday Boy #2 was running around the house, sans pants, half singing, half screaming, "Hey Ho, Let's Go!" Repeatedly. How cool is that? I mean, really, the Boy just turned three and there he was singing Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones.

I was proud of the Boy. In fact, my pride was so great I could have won my very own father of the year spirit stick. I thought, or felt that I rocked, hard, as a Dad. Pride.

That feeling lasted all of five minutes which is when I heard the Boy(s) in the bathroom, in unison, saying, "Don't tell Daddy." Sweet mother of all that is good, those three words never are good. They turn my blood cold.

As I approached the semi-closed door, I could tell from their pleading and the exasperated grunts of my Lovely Bride that the shit had hit the fan. As usual, I was wrong.

The shit had hit the sink.

As soon as the Boy(s) saw me, standing there, with a stunned look on my face, they said, "Don't be mad!"

How could I be mad, I was confused. You see Dear Reader, the Elder Boy was on the toilet taking a dump. The Younger Boy, was standing near him, with no pants, and shit all over his legs and feet. My Bride, who was muttering the Younger Boy's name, over and over, was on her knees wiping what must have been shit off of the tile floor.

Fast forward four days into the Buck Rogers future, which is now, and I'm still not sure what happened. Best I can figure, the Elder Boy needed to take a dump and asked his brother if he cared to join him. Take a break from running around the house, sans pants, singing The Ramones. That might sound odd to some, but is completely normal at Casa Tinsley. In fact, the Elder Boy might have been conducting his own version of a potty training seminar in an attempt to get the Little Warrior to start pooping in the potty. My Lovely Bride has long said, once Wy is fully potty trained, fully meaning poop in the potty, we can get a dog.

As for why there was shit in the sink, best guess is that at some point, Wy decided to get a better vantage point, to see his brother's technique, and climbed upon the vanity near the sink.

At that point, with everything perfectly aligned, Wy must have let a nicotine fart. Or, it could have been a slight bout of diarrhea. His first of the day I might add, lest you think we're complete failures as parents.

In fact, the Boy had been puked on at church earlier in the day. Literally. In the face. I guess that bug entered his system and gave him what Old Granny would call the stomach grippe. That's why he wasn't wearing pants. He had a bath when he got home from church, and well, My Bride thought she'd leave his pants off to try and work on potty training.

Pride. Did it lead me down the road to vanity and narcissism? Is that why everything aligned perfectly, to show me the error of my way? If so, why did my Lovely Bride have to suffer the consequences of my hubris? I don't know. If only they had made Urban Cowboy 2.

Until I BLOG again...They're all reved up and ready to go!