Before we begin, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge
the fact that it has been several weeks since the last time I posted anything. Unfortunately,
as someone with a full time job who is also a full time husband, the father of
a two-year old, and a general purveyor of insanity, writing (although I rather
enjoy it) ranks somewhere around number ninety-five on my list of things to do.
As brilliant and fantastic as it would be for this to be my full time job, writing
overly dramatic stories about the trials and joys of life with a highly
energetic toddler does not come with a paycheck. That being said, I will do my
best to keep the stories coming in semi-regular intervals.
Yesterday was
Valentine’s Day, and when one has young children who are in school, it means it
is time for the Valentine’s Day pre-school party. For days before, my daughter
was practically rabid with excitement as she was looking forward to the party
which awaited her. She couldn't stop talking about all the things she was going
to get to eat at school, such as: cupcakes, cookies, chicken nuggets, cupcakes,
pies, cupcakes, chocolate, doughnuts, strawberries, cupcakes, candies and chocolate
cupcakes. I knew going into it that it was probably going to be a challenging
evening, so as I walked into pre-school to pick up my daughter, I was braced
for the inevitable.
I've come to realize
that pre-school teachers find joy in inflicting undue stress on parents with
young children, and they look at the aftermath of school parties as some sort
of hazing ritual which parents must endure. As I tried my best to peel my
daughter from the ceiling of the classroom and cope with the sugar overdose
that had obviously taken place, the teacher starting wringing her hands and
laughing like a mad scientist who was about to unleash the fury of her creation
on some innocent village (my house) and she started saying, “She’s yours now!
Have fun tonight.” As I collected my daughter, who was obviously high on
chocolate, I was handed, by the mad scientist teacher lady, a white paper bag
full of candy which had a balloon tied to the top. Of course, as soon as my
cracked out daughter saw it, she started screaming, “MY CANNNNDY! MY BALOOOOOOON!
MY CANDY! I WANT MY CANNNNDDDY! I WANNA EAT IT!” Anyone with any common sense
or who has had any experience with children knows that waving a bag of candy in
front of a toddler who has been fed copious amounts of sugar for eight solid
hours is tantamount to waving a bag of heroin at a junkie. It will, unequivocally,
lead to bad things. So, as I loaded my strung out daughter into her car seat,
the only way I could stop her screaming was, of course, to hand her the giant
bag of candy. I could still hear the pre-school teacher’s maniacal laughter in
my head and, I thought, in the chaos of trying to get everyone loaded into the
car with as little commotion as possible, I could see the pre-school teacher
peering out from the classroom window, face pressed against the glass, smiling
and laughing as her wicked plan came to fruition.
The ride home was
blur of screaming, ruffling through a sack of candy, random bits being thrown
about like someone looking for a treasure in a sack of rubbish, shouting what
she planned on eating, what her favorite candy was, another fit of screaming, then
yelling, “I’M TRAPPED” as the car seat straps prevented her from ricocheting around
the inside of the car like some cartoon balloon that was having its air all let
out. Things then took a slight downturn as she, apparently, began experiencing chocolate
withdrawals. Her voice changed slightly, got a little deeper and she started
growling and saying, “NAOOO! NOOOO! I NEED CHOCOLATE…I NEEEEEEED IT”, like a
little, tiny Hulk who was running out of Gamma Rays. And then she broke down
into a quiet sob.
It was just a ploy.
The pure, nuclear energy being generated by the processing of sugar in her tiny
body was not letting up. As we got home, I had to pick up the debris of strewn
candy that had been tossed about and as I put each one back in the white bag,
she would say, “I’m gonna eat that.” When we finally made it inside and to the
kitchen, the only possible answer for what she would want for supper was “Chocolate.”
Mommy was nice enough to have ready some chocolates and a Valentine’s Day card
with a detachable, paper Valentine’s Day crown on it, so, out of the spirit of the
holiday and because I knew she wouldn't stop until she got them anyway, I
relented and let her have a few more pieces of candy. We then detached and
assembled her paper crown which made her look like Princess Valentine, Bearer
of Hyperactivity as she bounced around the room and screamed for more candy.
My
daughter has recently become totally enamored with Alice in Wonderland (the
original Disney animated film), so for the last week or so it has been playing
non-stop in the background. As you can imagine, (or maybe my experience is so
surreal that you actually can’t) this entire episode played out as if I was
trapped in some Disney home for the insane. I had my daughter, who was wearing
a giant paper crown, bouncing off of the walls and screaming for candy, while
in the background I had the Mad Hatter and the March Hare screaming about Unbirthdays
to the theme song of the spinning teacups at Disneyland, and there I was, just
trying to make sense of it all and make it stop before my head exploded. I did.
There was no explosion. I was able to get my daughter in bed at her normal time
of around seven-thirty. And as she was still high on sugar, she spent the next
hour and a half sitting up in her bed and barking like a dog. I hope they don’t
do anything special for St. Patrick’s Day.
