Don’t judge me. K?
It’s funny, Addison’s going on a field trip today. And it’s not the type where they go across town and look at flowers or pumpkins or Christmas trees. It’s the kind where he’s got to ride in a bus for an hour. A lot of parents (and maybe one of the ones in this house) are pretty nervous about sending their kids so far away, but I’m not at all. Should I be? Eh, he’s fine. The truly frightening moments for me come when he’s with me.
One of the scariest realizations I’ve ever come to as a father was when I saw how determined Addison was to imitate me. I would make him laugh, he’d try to make other people laugh. I like the Cubs, he’d say he liked the Cubs. He’d wake me in the morning to see I slept without a shirt, off went his shirt. I’d lose my temper, he’d do the same. It’s not always cute.
By the time Colin came around, I knew the drill. I had to stay on my best behavior at all times. (Right. That happens.) But I knew that there was a strong possibility there would be two mini-me’s running around. Only I was dead wrong. Colin doesn’t imitate me (not nearly as much as I expected). No, Colin . . . imitates Addison. Addison likes Transformers, Colin loves Transformers. Addison sleeps with his sleeping bag on his bed, Colin does the same. Addison plays games on the Wii, Colin watches intently. (Sometimes this flattery annoys the living crap out of Addison, but that’s another story.)
Basically, seeing someone who patterns himself after me develop a behavior clone of his own reminds me of this development from the movie Multiplicity, in which Michael Keaton’s character, Doug, discovers that one of his clones has cloned a clone.
I don’t mean Colin puts pizza in his wallet. It’s just that now I’m realizing that any personality defects I may have passed on to Addison are only going to multiply as Colin learns to imitate them. This probably means I’m going to have to actively involve myself in my sons’ lives to try to help them develop normally or something. I should get on that.
No, I’m not doing a tax theme. Who wants to hear music about taxes?
Every Thursday I go bowling. I’m not very good, although I did bowl a 201 last night. But, for frame of reference, it was my best game ever by a lot. Since I bowl every Thursday, I always miss the American Idol results. I can’t quit watching (and blogging about) American Idol, but I’ve always pretty much detested the results shows. I just want to know who won.
So every week I ask my twitter friends to DM me the results after the show is over. In return I offer eternal friendship, praise, devotion. This week the offer was a limerick for anyone who would let me know what happened. A bunch of people let me know what happened. Here are their limericks:
Emily (@ek_go on her birthday, no less)
There once was a girl on her birthday
Who wondered how much would her mirth weigh?
She put it on scales,
And it outweighed six whales,
So she partied like crazy ’til Earth Day
There once was an hombre named Justin.
For a World Series win, he was lustin’.
He couldn’t quite quit it,
But if the Cubs ever did it,
Then his head just might end up combustin’.
There once was a pancake from Sweden
That looked far too sweet to be eaten.
It was whipped up by fairies
With fresh lingonberries,
So save it for Katy or get beaten.
I wanted an update on Idol,
Because knowing who’s booted is vital.
Amy graciously told
While I tweeted and bowled,
Hence this lim’rick to which she’s entitled.
In Brookfield there lives this dude Tony,
Who hates everyone with a pony.
It’s a Seinfeld joke, get it?
If you don’t, just forget it.
Do you smell what I’m cookin’, Jabroni?
I was really running out of ideas near the end. I’m thankful for everyone’s help, but I’m also pretty glad more people didn’t take me up on the offer.
No posts in between playlists? Adam, what’s wrong with you?
Don’t answer that. Here’s this week’s song list. I hope you enjoy. There might be some limericks later.
I’ll be there. At Wrigley. Need I say more?