You only want your clothes to be changed laying down, which puts you in the perfect position to bicycle-kick whoever is trying to get you dressed. It’s better that I am the who takes the collateral damage from you.
So now I am officially your wardrobe assistant/technician.
While the Twitter hashtag #aintnobodygottimeforthat officially peaked last summer, the “Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That (Autotune Remix)” on YouTube serves as the mental soundtrack as I get you dressed now.
You and I are both thinking, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” You’re thinking it because you evidently see getting dressed as an unnecessary hassle; or even worse, a form of punishment.
I’m thinking it because I don’t have time to struggle with you over it.
There seems to be no obvious solution to you not wanting to get dressed. I don’t know; maybe it was better in Biblical days when everyone evidently just wore robes all the time.
Actually, I think you could totally pull off rockin’ the Kid Icarus look. So, uh, Jack… what do ya say?
I don’t know whether it’s from the Vacation movies with the Griswolds, or maybe just a combination of every 80′s sitcom I grew up watching, but in my mind it’s the dad’s job to emphasize what it means to be a [enter last name here].
To illustrate, I’ll just use Growing Pains as an example here. I can easily imagine Jason Seaver telling Ben, “We Seavers are not quitters!”
Every once in a while you like to play with the seashells we collected from our trip to Naples, FL in December 2011.
You pour them out of the plastic cup we keep them in, then examine them one by one on the carpet.
I always think, “Jack, do you realize you are playing with our last name right now?”
Knowing it would just confuse you at this point to try to explain to you that our last name is Shell and what a last name even is, I just let you enjoy your playtime.
But I have been pondering what it means to be a Shell.
Unless you ever have a baby brother, you are basically the last male Shell in our family to carry on the name, since I was the only one until you got here.
Essentially, I figure so much of what it means to be a Shell has to do with the household culture that Mommy and I are raising you in.
I would definitely say in order to be Shell, you have to be a bit on the quirky side; never apologizing for being different, never being tempted to follow the crowd.
Work ethic is huge to our identity. We like to be known for working hard, being proactive, and thinking creatively.
When it comes to politics, we are conservative, yet open-minded and open-armed to different cultures.
In regards to financial decisions, we are as shrewd as my Italian grandfather who grew up in an orphanage during the 1930′s. (The day we pay for a smart phone or cable TV is the day they give it to us for free!)
Shells are deep thinkers, always curious of where stuff comes from and how it got here.
To us, God is not simply the third word of OMG, but the one we try to please everyday in the way we treat others.
You are a Shell. You’re one of us. You are destined to encompass the best and worst of our family’s micro-culture.
However, in regards to the importance that individuality plays in our family, I recognize that despite the way that Mommy and I will inevitably “brainwash” you in our weird ways as we raise you, still you have free will to make your own decisions and form your own opinions; especially the older you get.
So while you are one of us no matter what, you’re still you. And I like the micro-culture you bring to our family. After all, I write a letter to you about it everyday.
Since The Lorax appeared on Netflix Instant last month, our family has watched it enough times that you now request Mommy and I to sing the Thneedville song as your nightly lullaby.
Needless to say, it is currently our family’s favorite movie!
Granted, The Lorax movie is based on the 1971 Dr. Seuss book.
You should note that when talking about a movie based on a book, the cliche response you’re supposed to give is, “The book was so much better than the movie!”
To be honest, I’m a visual person, so I pretty much always prefer the movie over the book.
Unsurprisingly, I prefer the 2012 movie version of The Lorax over the 1971 book version it is based on. However, my reason isn’t simply because of the impressive 3-D animation. A lot of it is just that I prefer comedy over tragedy…
I had an art professor in college who explained the difference between tragedy and comedy this way:
In a tragedy, the beloved main character is removed or rejected from his society. In a comedy, an outcast is accepted by his society and becomes the beloved main character.
By that definition, the book version of The Lorax by Dr. Seuss is a tragedy.
The story ends with the Lorax literally kicking himself out of the city, after the Once-ler and his family cut down all the Truffula trees and all the sick and dying animals are forced to migrate elsewhere.
But in the movie version, the Lorax returns because the Once-ler shares the last Truffula seed with a boy named Ted, who decides to plant it in the middle of the city. Therefore, the movie is a comedy.
If the exact story line of the book version were simply stretched out into a 90 minute format, that would be one dark and depressing kids’ movie.
So instead, the movie version of The Lorax basically serves as the sequel to the book, with the original story line intertwined as a sort of dual plot.
The movie begins a couple of generations after where the book leaves off, with this hilarious over-the-top musical intro; which again, is the lullaby you request each night:
It’s interesting to me that the people of Thneedville are very happy to live in their plastic version of reality, where there are no living trees or plants. The city is essentially owned by a zillionaire named Aloysius O’Hare, who sells them fresh air; which they seem to be grateful for.
Whereas the book was a warning against the depletion of natural resources and the pollution of our environment, the movie focuses more on the bizarre aftermath, which is consumerism based on convenience over what is natural and healthy.
Though it’s probably easily overlooked, I think this is one of the most interesting and subtle lines of theThneedville song:
“We thank the Lord for all we’ve got, including this brand-new parking lot!”
The people of Thneedville are dependent on resources which are manufactured and processed, while they seem oblivious to and far-removed from the natural resources that God provided for them in the first place… which are actually located outside of their city, like plants that produce fresh air.
That’s not to say parking lots are evil, but the movie is clearly a parable of modern day America; especially in regards to not questioning where our products come from.
To think, there are now clever mainstream food brands likeChobani and Annie’s Homegrown which are making it clear to the consumer on their labeling that their products contain only natural ingredients; no artificial colors or flavors derived from animal bi-products or petroleum.Little Remedies is the same way with their children’s medicine.
It’s a mix between sad and funny that it’s so normal for me to expect products to be fake now, unless otherwise labeled so.
I feel that ultimately, The Lorax movie challenges viewers to decide for themselves if and how they are being represented as residents of Thneedville.
The movie is not simply about “going green” or saving trees. Its message is focused on returning to a version of life that is based on what is real, natural, and non-toxic.
Thneedville’s citizens had to decide whether to allow the last Truffula seed to be planted or to keep depending on having to buy fresh air.
Turns out, that’s a decision we have to make for ourselves everyday, in some form or another.
I have no idea who the man in this picture is, but according to some friends on Facebook, he could evidently be me in some alternative version of reality in 1984.
Therefore, the floating butterfly lady is, by default, Mommy.
So I got to thinking: This is probably the best illustration of how you see Mommy and me.
I am the Wizard of Weird and Mommy is the Fairy of Finesse.
Together, the two of us make one magical team. (Evidently, my magic is so cool I can make Mommy fly.)
Even if her ability to fly has something to do with the 1984 version of Photoshop, at least someone went through the trouble of adding in a believable shadow on my arm.
A couple of days ago I mentioned how You Can’t Choose Your Parents; that ” whether it’s for better or for worse, I take pride in showing you my version of how the world works and/or how it should work.”
Well, Son, you basically have Mork and Mindy for parents. That is your reality.
I imagine that to you, as a 2 year-old, everything is laced in fantasy. It will be a while before you can truly start discerning between what is real and what is pretend.
Can trains really talk the way Thomas and his friends can? When we pass the same construction site every morning, is that really Cranky the Crane, as I seem to imply?
Do you wake up every morning to parents who basically put on a magic show for you? Is that what it feels like to be 2 years old?
I think so.
As for the actual man and woman in the picture, I hope they see this and leave a comment. Or if nothing else, maybe someone else knows who this magical couple is so I can give credit where credit is due.
Until then, I will have you believe this is Mommy and me.
Love,
Daddy
Update: Thanks to a reader named Lance, I learned that the magician in the picture is Doug Henning. Lance, thanks for introducing me to him!
In yesterday’s “Asking A Toddler Why They Did Something Wrong” I explained how you got in trouble at school yesterday for throwing a toy at a friend, hitting them in the face and leaving a mark. I also explained how you were disciplined for it.
So today is the direct sequel to that story.
When I was a kid, I hated having to apologize and hug “the other kid” when I hurt them.
I didn’t like that it was forced. I would think to myself, “This obviously isn’t a real hug. I’m only saying I’m sorry because I have to. This is stupid.”
Now that I’m the parent, having you apologize to and hug your victim was the first thing I made you do once you got to school today and saw “the other kid.”
Turns out, though, “the other kid” just so happens to be one of your very best friends, Sophie Culpepper. I have mentioned her here on The Dadabase more than any other friend.
So this morning as I was unstrapping you from you car seat, I whispered to you, as if I was some divine voice from above trying to subconsciously place the idea in your head:
“Today, you need to apologize to Sophie and give her a hug.”
When we arrived in the classroom, I placed you on the floor next to Sophie. I whispered my divine instructions to you again, with Sophie’s mom watching too.
You froze. You usually do when we cross over from “family mode” to “school mode.”
I’m going to assume that after the parents went away, you did what I asked of you. Sure, it may just be wishful thinking.
But I know you really are sorry about what happened. I’ve learned here recently when you get in trouble with Mommy and I before leaving for school, you’ll be quiet the whole trip. Then, as I’m taking you inside to KinderCare, you will say with shame, “I listen to Mommy.”
(Translation: “I will listen to you and Mommy next time, instead of freaking out about not getting to watch Mater’s Tall Tales when it’s time to go.”)
If it’s true you hurt the ones you love the most, then I, in some strange way, can understand that your first victim of a toy-to-the-face throw had to be your best girl friend.
After all, you’ve grown up with Sophie in your daycare. She’s so much like a sister to you. If I did the math, you might even spend more waking hours with her than I am able to spend with you myself.
So yes, a forced apology and hug may seem a bit awkward to you, but those things help you to understand that hurting others comes with consequences; not just physical, but emotional.
Like I said yesterday, I know that it’s challenging right now for you to understand your emotions, but when you hug the person you have hurt, it helps send a message of emotional healing in the relationship.
Better are forced apologies and hugs than ignoring the offense all together. However, I know that the more I force them on you, the more natural and sincere they will become.
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