The Fine Art of Cursing and Pickles
Dash has always been able to entertain himself, which I have usually considered a good thing. Sometimes when I feel like being one of “them” [either SJ knows what I mean, or I know what she meant], I cuddle up with Dash in the rocking chair and try to read to him. Usually this ends up with the two of us arguing over whether to start in the middle or the end, and how fast to turn the pages. I always give up and let him read to me instead. I’m doing something right - the kid can count 40 marbles and I’ve only twisted my ankle on 30 of them.
I know, because I’ve thrown 30 marbles in the friggin trashcan.
Seeing as how my son enjoys reading, playing and drawing in his room, usually Mike and I can watch a movie or television show we enjoy in the evenings after dinner with limited interruption. Dash plays in his room, we watch a show, and around 9 pm we read to him or color with him before tucking him in bed. The last few nights, however, Dash has made it clear that he will invade our tv time with the force of a thousand suns whenever it suits him.
Being the wise and energetic parents that we are, it didn’t take long for us to figure out a repellant so steadfast even Daschel can’t fight: pickles. He hates pickles so much the very sight of them sends him running back into his room.
Last night, we were about 45 minutes into a Deadwood episode when Smelly McSandy Pants came barrelling into the living room. “HEWOOOO” he announced as he threw his upper body onto the couch, slinging his fat little leg up onto the cushion. Sometimes I believe that he expects us to applaud or bow - he truly supposes we are going to be thrilled to see him for the ten billionth time that day.
All Mike has to do is hold up the jar of pickles and say “Hey Dash, want a pickle?” and the kid dismounts the couch and bolts back into his room. Last night he even closed the door behind him. I followed him to check on him and found him coloring furiously on his chalkboard. I can only imagine that somewhere within that seemingly meaningless scribblefest there was a foundation for a hostile takeover of the Vlasic corporation.
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