Friday, January 7, 2011
I live in a frat house...
I have always appreciated the companionship of the male of the species. Other than my mother, the roommates I had in college and grad school, and my cats, everyone I have lived with, and a good percentage of my friends throughout life have been male. Every dog we had growing up and all of my dogs right now are male.
The male of the species can be funny, and often, although not always, they are less emotionally complicated than their female counterparts. I have appreciated the lessons I have learned about communication, both the good and the bad, from the men in my life. "The facts and just the facts" is often the key to communicating with men/boys. Making sure you know WHICH facts they need can be critical, but once you know that, learning to hone your message to just those facts is skill that will serve you well. Don't muddy the waters with extra words that they will just ignore anyway. Simply state "Please take this over there" or "No you cannot have another cookie" and leave it at that. Adding phrases like "...which you would do if you had a considerate bone in your body without being asked..." just makes their brains go a little numb, or irritates them and will delay getting the results you desire.
However, males have their flaws. The fact that Beavis and Butthead were so popular might be one example. And farts are HILARIOUS.
This week I realized I live in a frat house. I spent time cleaning up puke at 2:30am after Buster the dumbass beagle ate a large quantity of food that was not good for him - a bag of flour - and then experienced the unpleasant side effects of that decision. Too much pizza and beer is to a college kid what flour is to a beagle.
Then I watched my son laugh himself silly - I mean bent over, giving himself knee slaps gasping for air laughing - while he was naked, standing in the bathtub, because he was saying "Poophead" and "Fartbutt" or "Poopbutt" and "Farthead" over and over cracking himself up. Cooper spent time at his grandparents house, watching Daffy Duck get shot in the face by Elmer Fudd, laughing out loud by himself the whole time. He didn't want to watch any other episodes. To say he has a highly developed appreciation for physical comedy is not an exaggeration. He now acts these scenes out for me while telling me I am "despicable" with a lateral lisp, just as Daffy Duck does to Bugs Bunny. I cannot wait for the Monty Python years.
In the meantime, he also has begun repeating things that have been said by his father and myself, and using them appropriately. Example: when he muttered "Jesus Christ" after knocking over the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs that is used to keep Buster downstairs. That one goes to Bob. "Dammit" will be mine.
To review, I have overindulgence induced barf in the middle of the night, fart and poop jokes, and swearing. And a bathroom lined with superhero costumes. For Cooper, not me or Bob. That would be weird.
Posted by mkosboth at 2:29 PM