There are few things more pathetic than an over-confident father taking his 3 year old son out for an afternoon alone. Yet it takes such an afternoon for the over-confident father to realize his limitations and the value of a really good wife with a really good system.One recent Saturday I had some typical Saturday errands to run and decided on a whim to take Christopher along with me. You know, some quality father-son bonding time at Home Depot and Best Buy, that kind of stuff. What could be the harm? I left the house with my keys, my wallet, my sunglasses and…and…oh yeah, my son. And off we went. Before I had even pulled out of the driveway, I had already doomed my trip to failure.
For I, of course, made the critical mistake of leaving the comfort of my own home without that Magic Bag my wife has been slinging around her shoulder the last 11 years. You know the bag…formerly referred to as the “diaper bag”? It’s the bag of tricks, toys, cardboard books, snacks, sippy cups, backup clothing, and medical necessities. It’s that bag which seems to have endless pockets lined with gooey old raisins, stale Cheerios, Goldfish, and foul odors. In that bag is a virtual Life Support System for every toddler, and without it, no parent stands a chance. A soldier could be dropped behind enemy lines without a weapon and he would stand a better chance of survival than a father taking his 3 year old son out for an afternoon without that Survival Bag.
I realized my mistake the second Christopher uttered the words, “Daddy, I want juice”. My heart sank. I didn’t have the bag! And Christopher suddenly wanted everything that was in that Survival Bag…he knew the exact contents: cars, goldfish, even the gooey old raisins. I instantly realized what I was up against. Whatever the original intent of my Saturday afternoon with Christopher, I now had to scrap the mission and reformulate a new survival plan. And being a most perceptive 3 year old, Christopher instantly realized the power he now possessed. He could have anything he wanted, and I would have to appease him. But like they learned with Hitler in World War II, appeasement never contains the aggressor. So after an expensive afternoon of entertaining, dining, and keeping my 3 year old content, I returned home a defeated father. My wife Laurie took one look and said, “You forgot his bag, didn’t you?”
Daddy’s inadvertent payback came later. The last few weeks at church I’ve noticed Christopher’s growing interest in participating in Holy Communion. It started innocently with slight whimpering about wanting a “taste” or wanting a “sip”, but each subsequent week he’s begun to push the envelope with me further and further, sometimes lunging out for a Communion wafer from the unsuspecting Communion Distributor. He was quietly becoming a Communion wafer terrorist. Since I normally hold him when we go up for Communion, Laurie was unaware of this growing problem. In fact, I dismissed it as extreme Christian devotion, probably from that fine Catholic Pre-School education he’s been getting. Well, I was out of town for work recently and apparently Christopher’s “slight interest” blossomed into a pure obsession while daddy was gone. At 5PM Mass Laurie walked with him toward the altar and Christopher made his move. After being denied access to Communion yet again, Christopher dropped to the floor in front of the altar and yelled out, “But it’s snack time!!”, “Everybody’s eating a snack!!”, “I WANT SNACK!!!!”. Laurie’s cute little magical bag of tricks had nothing in it for a situation like this. After all, the new signs outside the sanctuary clearly state: “No food or beverage beyond this point” (except the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, written in very small print). Laurie had to drag Christopher back to the pews, later having to explain that Jesus didn’t die for us to be offered up as snack food, like some bag of Doritos out of a vending machine.I think the bottom line to all this: the two-parent system really does work.
For I, of course, made the critical mistake of leaving the comfort of my own home without that Magic Bag my wife has been slinging around her shoulder the last 11 years. You know the bag…formerly referred to as the “diaper bag”? It’s the bag of tricks, toys, cardboard books, snacks, sippy cups, backup clothing, and medical necessities. It’s that bag which seems to have endless pockets lined with gooey old raisins, stale Cheerios, Goldfish, and foul odors. In that bag is a virtual Life Support System for every toddler, and without it, no parent stands a chance. A soldier could be dropped behind enemy lines without a weapon and he would stand a better chance of survival than a father taking his 3 year old son out for an afternoon without that Survival Bag.
I realized my mistake the second Christopher uttered the words, “Daddy, I want juice”. My heart sank. I didn’t have the bag! And Christopher suddenly wanted everything that was in that Survival Bag…he knew the exact contents: cars, goldfish, even the gooey old raisins. I instantly realized what I was up against. Whatever the original intent of my Saturday afternoon with Christopher, I now had to scrap the mission and reformulate a new survival plan. And being a most perceptive 3 year old, Christopher instantly realized the power he now possessed. He could have anything he wanted, and I would have to appease him. But like they learned with Hitler in World War II, appeasement never contains the aggressor. So after an expensive afternoon of entertaining, dining, and keeping my 3 year old content, I returned home a defeated father. My wife Laurie took one look and said, “You forgot his bag, didn’t you?”
Daddy’s inadvertent payback came later. The last few weeks at church I’ve noticed Christopher’s growing interest in participating in Holy Communion. It started innocently with slight whimpering about wanting a “taste” or wanting a “sip”, but each subsequent week he’s begun to push the envelope with me further and further, sometimes lunging out for a Communion wafer from the unsuspecting Communion Distributor. He was quietly becoming a Communion wafer terrorist. Since I normally hold him when we go up for Communion, Laurie was unaware of this growing problem. In fact, I dismissed it as extreme Christian devotion, probably from that fine Catholic Pre-School education he’s been getting. Well, I was out of town for work recently and apparently Christopher’s “slight interest” blossomed into a pure obsession while daddy was gone. At 5PM Mass Laurie walked with him toward the altar and Christopher made his move. After being denied access to Communion yet again, Christopher dropped to the floor in front of the altar and yelled out, “But it’s snack time!!”, “Everybody’s eating a snack!!”, “I WANT SNACK!!!!”. Laurie’s cute little magical bag of tricks had nothing in it for a situation like this. After all, the new signs outside the sanctuary clearly state: “No food or beverage beyond this point” (except the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, written in very small print). Laurie had to drag Christopher back to the pews, later having to explain that Jesus didn’t die for us to be offered up as snack food, like some bag of Doritos out of a vending machine.I think the bottom line to all this: the two-parent system really does work.
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