Wednesday, September 1, 2010

The Muddle


Fear not my two avid readers for this is not to become a "daddy" blog, though i don't think anyone was really worrying about that but you know you can't always write posts about freebasing and masturbation and since it's hot and i'm kinda high on these special vitamins i'd figure i'd relate this little diddy.


Last week before all the fun happened and i got to eat swell hospital cafeteria food all weekend, which by the way was pretty fucking good if unhealthy nonetheless, i awoke to the creaking of Kid A's door and the pitter patter of his little feet. See the kid's got issues and at 3:37am sometimes he needs to talk. Apparently Kid A had been dreaming and as he walked up to the bed and whispered Daddy i could only guess what was happening in his little 4 year old head. He says all serious and shit, Dad what's a Muddle? and me being semi-conscious, pretty much my permanent state, i sat up on one arm and started explaining that muddle is a term meaning confused or mixed up. Well good old Kid A looks all serious and says no it's not Dad and gets a little exasperated with his old man and i say yes it is and he says no it's like a puddle of mud and it can talk and i stop him and ask if he's been sneaking the old Scooby Doo cartoons on the side, the ones he's not supposed to be watching cuz they scare him and shit and cause late night/ early morning conversations with his daddy. Kid A gets all sheepish and immediately blames the fact he couldn't find the remote and i smile at his quick thinking and ask if this Muddle is sometimes a mud puddle with a scary face who can rise up off the ground and create havoc. He nods yes and i explain that Muddles don't really exist and that this is why we might have to wait a bit to watch Scoob and Shag and the rest of the gang. He agrees with this assertion, says that maybe when he's 5 he can watch and i ask him if he'd like me to walk him back to bed. He smiles and we walk back to his room, each have a drink of water and i tuck him back in and sit for a few minutes and assure him that if the Muddle does happen to show up in Bloomfield that his Daddy will kick his ass or at least call some people who know how to kick it's ass. He's soon asleep and Dad wanders around the house for a bit at ease in the darkness and quiet and on guard in case any of those damn Muddles show up.
Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

8 comments:

daisyfae said...

i don't know, kono... i think this might just be one of the best dad-blog posts i've ever read.

twin said...

awesome!

i knew you were a softy...

Gulfboot Johnson said...

That is a very nice thing. But a muddle would kick your ass any day.

sybil law said...

Damn, that's cute.
But I can't believe you won't share your special vitamin brand with us.

Gulfboot Johnson said...

It's ketamin.

The Unbearable Banishment said...

Congratulations. You've just discovered the secret of life.

Gulfboot Johnson said...

"Congratulations. You've just discovered the secret of life."

Ketamin?

Rassles said...

You know, fuck those muddles.

When I was scared of things as a wee tot, my parents basically ignored it. It did not help.

But when my cousin Tony started babysitting me and sisters he taught me to play poker and stand guard. So when I was scared of something, we would build a fort, put something I loved inside, and protect it together.

This, I feel, explains a great deal about me.