During the days leading up to Christmas, my kids were on their best behavior. Each time they started to act up, I immediately invoked the dreaded Santa threat.
“If anyone smacks or hits, I’m calling Santa Claus myself and telling him you’re bad. He’s in my Contacts list.”
I held my phone up for added effect.
The fighting ceased immediately. They even used please and thank you without being prodded.
However, a few days after Christmas, my kids quickly reminded me that holiday cheer and goodwill was long over.
“Does anyone want breakfast?” I asked.
Enthusiastically, I prepared my eggs and coffee. Before I sat down to enjoy my meal, I knew better. I’d ask one last time if they wanted something to eat.
“Are you guys sure you don’t want any breakfast?”
“Yeah, we’re sure,” they responded.
Music to my ears.
I sat on the couch, placed my food on the snack tray and then stretched. I readied myself for the first delicious bite.
“Dad, I’m hungry,” my son said.
“Daddy, I’m ready for breakfast,” Lexy added.
“What the hell?” I muttered to myself, mixed in with a few other curse words.
I could simply pretend I didn’t hear it. That might work.
My son raced into the living room and tugged my shirt. “Dad, I’m really hungry.”
Lexy stormed in behind him to ensure I couldn’t ignore them. “Daddy, I’m hungry. I want breakfast now!”
For a brief moment, I contemplated any potential threats I might have at my disposal.
Ask nicely for breakfast or I’ll…cancel Groundhog’s Day or George Washington’s Birthday.
Wait until I start eating then ask for breakfast, huh? That’s it; the next time your friends come over, I’m going to dance in front of them…in my pajamas.
However, my wife would never allow me to do that. “We don’t want to traumatize the poor kids,” she’d say.
Unfortunately, without the threat of putting them on Santa’s naughty list, I found myself back in the kitchen bitching and making them breakfast.
To further annoy me, shortly after, my daughter handed me a barely-eaten plate of eggs. “I wasn’t that hungry.”
My kids may not appreciate me but at least I had my iPad.
I decided to check my email. Maybe there’d be something uplifting there, such as an old friend finding me on Facebook.
Free Viagra. Delete.
Wow, I’ve just won the lottery in some strange country. And all I have to do to collect is forward my social security number, my credit card number and my brain. Delete.
Sexy Senior singles in your area. (I’m not making this up.) I’ve been matched with a sweet single senior. Lucky me. Delete.
Now I was really depressed.
“Hon, can you shovel the car out?” my wife asked
I looked at the piles of snow outside and almost cried.
CJ then ran over and hugged me. “I loved your eggs, Dad.”
I was on top of the world again. Briefly.
“Hon, are you going outside? That car is not going to shovel itself out.”
Copyright © 2011, Brad Manzo