Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Stop Playing with General Tso's Chicken!
We got these chopsticks for the spawn to use at mealtime to mix things up a little and to see if we could maybe get Miss O to eat a little more. So, they were eating some sauteed broccoli tonight, while I was sitting at the table looking up some recipes for the week.
Mr. Z was across the table, fucking around as usual, and I was kind of half paying attention to him as I wrote my grocery list. I noticed that he was doing something with the chopsticks, and then I heard him say, under his breath, "Ouch." I looked up and asked, "What were you just doing?" He, of course, said "nothing," but I knew damn well what he was just doing. He was pinching his schvantz with the chopsticks!
Now as a parent, I had to say something. Unfortunately, any time I have to be parental about anything involving poo, pee, or the apparatii that create poo or pee, I end up laughing. I'm sorry, I peaked at age seven, okay? Kill me.
So, I composed myself, took a deep breath, and said, "Dude... it's really not appropriate to go grabbing your weiner with your chopsticks at the dinner table." Actually, that's what I wanted to say. I actually said, "Dude... it's really not appropriate to go grabbing your--[nose-laugh/look down at shoes/try again/smile/look down/look at Mr. Z/give up].
Naturally, he started laughing hysterically, as did Miss O, as did I, and, once again, instead of extinguishing a behavior, I reinforced it. Skinner would be proud.
If I hadn't have said anything, he probably would've thought to himself, "Ow. It hurts when I pinch my penis with this pair of chopsticks. Perhaps I shouldn't do that anymore." Of course, now he thinks, "Hm. When I pinch my penis with these chopsticks, Dad laughs really hard. This is something I most certainly will do again."
I don't even want to think about what fucked up fetish I may have just foisted upon the kid. Bleh.