My wife thinks that our kids looooove Goldfish crackers. We go through a bag a week. When we’re at the store, she specifically reminds me to grab them and says “You know how much they LOVE Goldfish Crackers.” I play coy and pretend not to remember, then grab a bag or two… or three. What my wife doesn’t know, until she reads this, is that I have a lovely addiction to tiny baked cheese fish. I could eat an entire bag. Each little cheese fish cracker is like a taste journey for my mouth. I like the rough salt on the rounder side of the cracker. I like how I can crush the tasty hollow fish orb on the roof of my mouth. I salivate thinking about how after I finish that little guy, there is a whole bag waiting for me to eat. “Honey, the kids ate all the Goldfish Crackers. I’m running to the store. Do we need milk too?”
Do you know how long an episode of Curious George is? 12 minutes. What the hell am I going to do with 12 minutes? Nothing. I can use the bathroom, and only if I don’t bring my phone in with me. That’s it. If I need to get the kitchen cleaned, or get some writing done, or do some laundry without the “why” patrol chasing me around asking questions and demanding snacks, Curious George is doing me no good at all. But you know what will? Frozen. Dumbo. The Little Mermaid. Sure, the deluxe, mondo, diamond encrusted, only coming out of a metaphorical vault that may or may not exist versions of these movies cost as much as my first semester of college, but I’ll take out a loan if it will give me 90 minutes to mow the lawn. They love them. I need them.
Sometimes the 90 minutes isn’t enough. Sometimes I need 8 hours. There are a variety of summer day camps in our area that are both affordable and convenient. And yes, while I want my daughter to learn about science or subsistence farming or dance or gymnastics, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that my wife and I enjoy the time we get to ourselves. “But John! If you are so eager to not have your kids around, why did you even have them?” Says someone, at some point, I imagine. “Shut up you. I don’t have to answer your questions,” I reply.
Classic Superhero Apparel
Sure. My daughter knows the Batman song. She knows it goes “Na na Na na Na na Na na Na na BATMAN!!” That is the extent of her Batman knowledge. She’s still a little young to know that Bruce Wayne’s parents were viciously murdered in front of him as a child causing irreparable emotional and psychological damage and leading him to dress up like an f’ing bat as an adult as he spreads his vigilante justice on a city that may or may not even want it. She’s not quite ready to process that yet. But that didn’t stop me from buying this.
|Na na na na na na na na|
|Na na na na na na na na|
I love Batman. I love my kid. So I buy her Batman stuff. Yes, it’s more for me than for her, but Batman is awesome and I don’t care. So there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go distract my daughter by putting Frozen on and sneak away to eat all her cheese fish crackers.
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