Live.Awake

Men are Like Cats

// September 26th, 2007 // Family Life, Humor

My family has owned two cats. Both of them met an early demise, but while they were living I learned something. You can never really fully train a cat. They’re too smart. The best you can hope for is the appearance of obedience while in your presence. You can teach them to stay off the counters, when you’re watching. You can teach them to keep their paws out of the fish tank, when you’re watching. You can even teach them not to scratch up the curtains, while you’re watching.

But once you leave the house, all bets are off. They revert back to their pre-civilized state. Most people consider this a sign of intelligence.

My wife was gone this past weekend on a women’s retreat to Asheville, NC. I was at home with the 3 kids. I discovered a frightening reality. As soon as she was out the driveway, all the training that she has spent all these years cultivating went clear out the window. Only the inner caveman remained.

I first noticed it with the kids’ diapers. Usually by lunch time there has been several diaper changes. By noon I had done one diaper change. They seemed happy with the saggy diapers and it seemed a waste to change the diaper if it had not yet reached capacity. Then it was time for lunch. Frozen corn dogs for everyone! I ate mine standing over the sink with the mustard bottle in one hand and the corn dog in the other. My two girls went and sat at the table and demanded plates. My son did just like me only he won’t stand in one place that long. He paced around the room with bits of corn dog crammed into his cheeks like a chipmunk. I had him try it with mustard and he dry heaved. One of my girls asked for a napkin. I think I looked at her like she was a green alien because she just got up and found one herself. Note: Heather left lots of healthy things for me to cook for them, but they all involved using the oven and calculating measurements. These are skills that I am only capable of when Heather is around.

3pm came and I realized that none of us had been outside yet. That seemed like a bad thing, so out we went. My son in nothing but his diaper. Me in old sweatpants, a worn out golf shirt and no shoes. My two girls insisted on getting dressed, doing their hair, and finding the perfect shoes. While my son was eating dirt and chasing fire ants, I had to go back inside 4 times to get them to hurry up. 15 minutes and a gallon of lip gloss later, they finally came outside. They all piled into the sandbox and went to town. About this time they (in unison) declared that they were hungry. Apparently the corn dogs weren’t going to hold them over for their yummy corn dog dinner later. I went inside and grabbed some popsicles, ignoring all the healthy snacks that Heather had left for me to give them. They enjoyed them until they got all sandy and gross. Except for my son. He just kept licking, his hands covered in sand and dead bugs. He would occasionally wipe out his mouth with his sandy hand only making it worse. The girls went inside to wash their hands while he finished off their popsicles.

By the end of the day, they needed a bath. I wiped them down with a baby wipe and put them to bed.

I noticed, however, that the closer Heather’s return came the more civilized we became. Owen was dressed in matching clothes. Diapers changed before their structural integrity was compromised. We all ate at the table with forks and spoons. I actually cooked something that involved the stove.

When Heather came home it felt like that great scene from Lord of the Flies when the boys are chasing each other after turning into savages. They come out onto the beach, and the grownups have arrived.

Thank God for my wife. A few more days and we would have run out of corn dogs.

[tags]parenting, fatherhood, father, fathering, mom, kids[/tags]