I’ve been a little distracted lately, what with the Middle East crisis, the Russians invading Ukraine, and going to the strip club every night to find a drywall installer(see previous post, “Oh, Sh@#!”).
Unfortunately, this translates to me forgetting to do my assigned tasks once in a while. Like, oh, I don’t know. . .forgetting to make my son’s lunch.
See, at 9 years old, the Wyatt-Baby is a little high maintenance. . .he expects lunch in his lunchbox, clean clothes to wear to school and, heck, he even expects me to wear pants when I drive him to school (what’s the big deal? I don’t get out of the car).
Well, 2 days in a row, as I am screaming for him to finish getting ready to leave for school, I realize I have forgotten to make his lunch. That means I have to set my beer down, take his lunchbox out of his backpack, and blame his mom for the failure to make his lunch(of course, she’s not in the room).
Well, yesterday after school, Wyatt uncharacteristically emptied his backpack and put his lunchbox on the counter. This morning, as I walked in the house after a long night of looking for the drywall installer, I noticed his lunchbox still on the counter, but with a note attached. See Wyatt’s note.
Naturally, I ignored it. No, no, not really. I pulled Wyatt aside and whispered that his Mom wanted me to “forget” his lunch so we could save money for Mommy’s new shoes. Quietly, I told him that I would continue secretly making his lunch, but please don’t tell Mom.
He immediately smiled and held out his hand. “Give me a dollar and I won’t tell Mom you said that.” Having experience with this kind of extortion (he is his mother’s son), I immediately retrieved a dollar’s worth of change from the jar where I put the money I earn as a male stripper on the Senior Citizen’s Home Circuit.
As I counted out the change into his grubby little paw, he shook his head in disgust and told me to keep it, since I obviously needed it more than him.
Well, I could go on about that wonderful little boy, but instead I’ll give you the short version. I made his lunch, mixing a little dog food into his peanut butter(he likes crunchy peanut butter, but it’s too expensive-don’t tell him!), and hustled him out to the car so we wouldn’t be late.
Of course, I forgot to wear my pants again. Unfortunately, as I found out just a short while ago, he had the last laugh. Apparently, he reported me to the DARE officer at the school. Said there was a strange man with no pants driving around the school.
I have a meeting with the principal tomorrow to try to get permission to be allowed on the school grounds again.
She said to make sure I wear pants.
5 thoughts on “Bad Dad.”
Lol! I love it!! You should put your writing into a book. I bet you would sell a million!
Thanks, Kim. . .I wish!
I totally agree with the title of your blog! (Is that comment enough?) LOL!
Why do I bother?
Funny stuff! Would make an interesting sitcom.
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