Straight Out Of The Poodle’s Ass

I like being a grown up.

Kind of.

I mean, even though I really, really like having the ability to eat a breakfast that consists primarily of ice cream and Pepsi, there are still times that I wish I was a little kid again. There is something so awesome about the innocence, hope, and sense of adventure that comes along with the kid-like tendency to believe in everything. Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Great Pumpkin, Spongebob, God…All you have to do is tell a little kid these things are real, or show them some sort of evidence – like a chocolate bunny rabbit, or a cartoon – and a kid will believe. The flip side of this innocent ability to believe in everything, is of course, such things like werewolfs, draculas, and bigfeets. And can totally be used to a parent’s advantage.

For instance…

Having a hard time getting your kid to listen? Simple solution, and it works every time:

“If you don’t start listening right now, I’m gonna tell the big hairy werewolf and his friends, the bigfeets, to get you.”

Once the screaming quiets down, and you get your kid unstuck from the ceiling, you can bet the little booger’s gonna listen. At least for a while anyway.

Another cool thing about a child’s easily convinced little mind, is how they take things so literally. Like the time my wife ever so gently told me that she was gonna punch me in the head for something (i don’t remember exactly what the something was, but rest assured, this happens quite often.) Our then five-year old son overheard this and was apparently quite concerned for his own cranial well-being, that the next time we were all out at the local mart store, he grabbed a batting helmet off the shelf and put it on. I didn’t think too much of it, as I can sometimes be prone to randomly trying on headgear myself, but my ever inquisitive wife asked him what his deal was. His response was priceless:

“Um, well, I yooshly git in twubble by yoo at da store, and I wuz skeered yood punch me in da head like yoo do ta Daddy.”

Priceless.

I laughed my ass off. Until I was told to shut up or get punched in the head.

Another time we had one of our little helmet wearers believe something we said at face value, was just today. Our 55 pound Poodle puppy snatched up one of our three-year old son, Raylan’s favorite toys and savagely (for a Poodle) devoured it right in front of his eyes. Kinda like a scene from Jaws. If Jaws was actually a big poofball of black fur that drooled a lot. Yeah. So, anyway, the kid freaked out, “AWWWW!!! STOOOPIT DOWGGY EATED MY TOYEEE!!!! AURGHHH!!!!” Trying not to laugh at his reaction, I mean, the toy was one of those shitty little two quarter things that comes out of a bubblegum machine in the foyer of grocery store, I told him to just hang around the dog’s tail for about an hour and he might see his silly little toy again. And then I walked away for a minute.

When I came back in the room, the first thing I saw was the Poodle, standing at attention, looking out the window. Then there was Raylan. Sitting on the floor behind the Poodle, holding it’s tail in the air.

And looking directly into it’s pooper.

When I finally got around to asking him what the hell he was doing, (I had to get a picture first, of course) he told me that he was waiting for his toy to come back, like I had told him. Not once did he look away. To the Poodle’s credit, he just kept standing there, too. (They’re supposed to be one of the world’s smartest dogs, you know. I, however, have not seen this so called smart side yet.)

I know, you’re probably figuring that like a good lil daddy blogger, I used this wonderful opportunity to teach the boy a valuable lesson about not believing everything you hear, or taking everything so literally. Right?

Nah. I just let him keep looking. I figured he’d either get bored, or I could just offer him a snacky cake or something to get him out of the dog’s ass. It’s not that I didn’t want to explain that sometimes people say stuff that isn’t true, or real, it’s just that I didn’t want him to have doubts in his own little belief system just yet. It makes him happy. Eventually, he’s gonna get older and stop believing in some things. And he’s gonna stop taking things so literally. But for now, I’m just gonna leave him alone with his beliefs.

And hopefully, he stops staring up the Poodle’s bunghole.

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And you guys think I make shit up…

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daddyanarchy

I write stuff. And I have Poodles. Big Poodles. The Poodles don't write stuff.

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6 Comments on Straight Out Of The Poodle’s Ass

  1. The grocery store incident reminds me of how I used to tell my 8 year old daughter that I had to stop beating her so she wouldn’t have so many bruises. (She’s quite a rambunctious, energetic child).

    Used to tell her that.

    Until she went to school and told the teacher (jokingly) that all the bruises on her legs were from where Mama beats her.

    True story.
    And this is why I know what my foot tastes like!

    • Ha! That’s awesome! Our kids are totally the same. Ever since they were born, we would joke around and say “I GONNA PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!” and then go “POW!” and they just loved it. Still do actually. Then there was the time I got the dirty looks from a bunch of Cub Scout dads when I said it to my boy on a camping trip.

      Oh well, at least these things give us funny stories!

      And don’t feel bad, my foot is usually the daily special around here…

      • One time my son ran into his room, slipped in his stocking feet, pitched forward, and hit his head on the corner of the stool he uses to climb into bed. He got a massive black eye as a result.

        We crapped our pants when he announced he was going to go to school and tell everyone he “got smashed in the face.”

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