Week 71: Morgan Aeromax

The Morgan Aeromax -- even looking at its Matchbox facsimile wakes me from my stressed-out stupor as if the image of the car was some type of visual smelling salt for the soul, some type of cold water face splash for a tired mind. Seriously, I'm looking at the picture (taken by photographer Phil Pekarcik), and even a blog image of a photograph of a tiny toy of a real Morgan is enough to resuscitate me from whatever weariness has descended upon me.

Brothers and sisters, I fear I got a little bit of kid overload today.

Now you know I cherish my kids, and while I'll spare you the multiple paragraphs I could write telling you how much they mean to me, suffice it to say I embrace that I am a lucky guy to have such great kids.

If you're a human parent, than you already understand the reason for the preceding disclaimer and where I'm going with this. Kids are exhausting, even though saying so might cause one guilt.

Is it cute that my two year old is fixated on Modest Mouse's song "Float On" and asked me to play it first thing in the morning, at lunch, during dinner, and at all points in between?  I can't tell anymore. The same with his discovery and obsession with the game Hi Ho Cherri-o and the way he followed me around all day asking if I wanted to play, and then, if I said no, asking, "Later?"

Or is it a big deal my preschooler has a fascination with mixing multiple types of cereals in one bowl and must always ask  if there is a different kind in the cupboard, even though he knows I won't even check until the boxes that are out are used up? Sob -- he KNOWS I won't look, but yet he asks.

And how can the two youngest crack themselves up when they are riding in the car simply by shouting non sequiturs at each other (PIZZA! Heeheeehaa Blue House! HAHAHAHA. Mailbox! SQUEAL!!), and why doesn't the oldest son realize his telling them to stop only encourages it. Why?

*Sigh* -- it is useless. No matter what I type, any of the pieces of the collective kid stuffs that have worn me out will sound at worst mildly annoying, with most of them sounding charming and funny. Because, in fact, the things that drove me bonkers today were at worst mildly annoying, and were mostly charming and funny. I know that.

I know that.

Really. I know that.

I don't want any of it to go away (well, the kid bickering and arguing, yes, but not the rest), I just needed to recharge. My wife has been laid up from a recent surgery, and, because I am unemployed, I've been in the house a whole, whole lot.

Forgive me. All is good. Tell me you haven't felt like this at some point. Or, if you haven't, then please don't tell me.

And if a tiny diecast of a hand built English sports car is all it takes to help me recharge, then I'm cutting myself some slack by saying I think I'm doing okay.

 And maybe now, late at night as I type this, I can finally acknowledge that the two-year-old's earlier joke of climbing into a booster seat normally at the kitchen table but today on the ground in the other room, after I barked an exasperated dinner command at him of "Get into your seat!!", was actually kind of funny.

A delayed laugh is still a laugh, right?

Float on.


As mentioned earlier, pic of my Morgan Aeromax courtesy of Phil Pekarcik.