The Daddy Complex

Rude Awakening

Wyatt: DUDE! HEY, OLD DUDE!
Me: Shhhh. It’s 4 a.m. What is it?
Wyatt: This ain’t working.
Me: What?
Wyatt: This. Tonight.
Me: You were sleeping just fine.
Wyatt: Well, now I’m pissed.
Me: Is it your diaper?
Wyatt: I don’t know. That’s your job. I could have a load in my shorts, I could be hungry, I could’ve had a nightmare. All I know is I’m awake, I’m tired and you’re getting all Sherlock Holmes when you should be "CSI: Miami." I HATE THIS! FIGURE IT OUT!
Me: Keep it down. You’re going to wake your brother.
Boone: Too late.
Me: Damn it.
Wyatt: You’ve got your hands full now.
Me: No chance you’re going to drift peacefully back to sleep?
Boone: About as much chance that I might also poop rainbows.
Wyatt: Here’s the deal, Pop. You’ve got an incredibly small window to figure out what’s wrong before I ramp up and blow a return to slumberland.
Boone: Ditto that.
Me: You guys are stacking the deck here. Not only will the process of trying to figure out what’s wrong wake you up more, but I have to do it twice.
Boone: Don’t care, dude.
Wyatt: Not our problem... You know how, when I get really angry, I do that high-pitched shriek?
Me: Yeah.
Wyatt: Here it comes.
Boone: That’s nothing. Even if you finally get him back to sleep, I’m planning on staying up until just before our normal wake-up time. Got anything good on the DVR?
Me: I think I have some episodes of “Chuck.”
Boone: That’ll work.

Hunger Strike

Me: Wyatt, you have to eat something.
Wyatt: I don’t want this—
Me: Don’t throw it on the floor.
Wyatt: And I don’t want this—
Me: Stop it.
Boone: Don’t worry. The dog will eat it.
Me: I didn’t buy that food to feed the dog.
Boone: Sure tastes like dog food to me.
Wyatt: Good one, bro.
Me: Fine. If you’re all done, I’ll just put the rest away.
Wyatt: Yeah, get that stuff out of my face.
Me: You guys don’t realize how good you have it. I give you organic chicken breast and fresh tomatoes and blueberries. You eat better than I do.
Boone: If it’s so great, you eat it.
Me: Maybe I will. This chicken looks good...
Wyatt: Hey, Boone. He’s eating it. He’s really eating it.
Boone: Dude, you’re eating our food.
Me: You didn’t want it.
Boone: Wait. Hold on—
Wyatt: He’s really wolfing that down. Stop him. I’m hungry!
Boone: Okay, old man. We’ll eat it. Hand it over.
Me: Too late. The chicken’s gone. Man, was it awesome.
Wyatt: What’s left?
Me: There’s some broccoli here.
Wyatt: Give it! I’m wasting away!
Me: Not so bad now, is it?
Boone: You think you’re so clever.
Me: Perhaps I do.
Boone: Well, perhaps the dog just threw up all the steamed carrots we fed him.

Planning Spontaneity

Wyatt: What were you doing just now?
Me: Talking to a buddy of mine on the phone.
Boone: Oh, that’s a phone. Okay. We thought you were talking to yourself.
Wyatt: Yeah. I was ready to call the guys with the butterfly nets.
Me: You have to use a phone to do that.
Wyatt: Touché.
Boone: What did your friend want?
Me: He was inviting your mother and me over for dinner.
Boone: Awesome! We got the place to ourselves, Wyatt. Let’s order some pizza.
Wyatt: And we can finally finish watching “Hostel 2.”
Me: We’re not going... Wait. What?
Boone: Why aren’t you going?
Me: Because we can’t just head out at the drop of a hat.
Wyatt: Sure, you can.
Me: Even if we had a regular sitter, I can’t order him or her over without any notice.
Wyatt: We can handle ourselves, old man.
Me: No, you guys need constant supervision. Someone has to have eyes on you at all times.
Boone: Dude, we’re babies, not terrorists.
Me: It’s just frustrating because people without kids don’t realize we have to plan this kind of thing in advance. We can’t be as spontaneous... Why are you rubbing your fingers together?
Wyatt: It’s the world’s smallest violin playing for you. And I’m a baby, so it’s really, really small—
Me: I get it.
Wyatt: Because I have little baby hands.
Me: I know.
Boone: I think the problem is twofold. First, from what we’ve seen, people without kids never really comprehend what it’s like to have them. So, they can’t be faulted for not understanding how challenging even something as simple as dinner out can be.
Me: Right...
Boone: Second, you haven’t set up a support system to help you. No babysitter, no neighbors on which you can call, no friends to come over and give you a break. That is not the fault of your childless friends either.
Wyatt: Preach it, bro.
Boone: So, really, you’re the reason you can’t be spontaneous. You're the reason you can't go out to dinner with your friend tonight.
Me: Well, when you say it like that it sounds so harsh.
Wyatt: The truth hurts, dude. The truth hurts.

Anything But Routine

Me: “Arizona moon keep shining—”
Wyatt: Put a lid on it, old timer.
Me: I sing that song to you every night.
Wyatt: Not in the mood.
Me: At least take some of your bottle.
Wyatt: Shove it. Let me go.
Me: It’s bedtime, pal. You have to drink some of this.
Wyatt: No!
Me: C’mon. Just a little. Otherwise, you won’t sleep through the night.
Wyatt: I’d do it if Mom fed me.
Me: She’s feeding Boone.
Wyatt: I want her to feed me.
Me: What’s the difference? She’d offer you the same bottle, hold you the same way.
Wyatt: I want MOM!
Me: Jesus. Chill out.
Wyatt: Listen, dude. You know me, right?
Me: Sure.
Wyatt: So, you know I haven’t even begun to freak out.
Me: Yeah.
Wyatt: At a time when I should be winding down, you’re winding me up.
Me: I’m not winding you up. This is your trip, buddy.
Wyatt: You’re not considering the outcome. This is going to get bad. Real bad.
Me: Actually, I have considered it. If you freak out for a while, you’ll be so wiped out, you’ll fall asleep right away instead of fussing like you usually do.
Boone: He’s got you there, bro.
Wyatt: Mom wouldn’t do this.
Me: You’re probably right. Now, why don’t you drink some of your bottle.

One Step At A Time

Boone: Hold on to me, dude.
Me: I got you. You’re doing great.
Boone: Shut up, shut up. I’m concentrating.
Wyatt: Don’t look down, bro.
Boone: I think I got it. Hey, check me out.
Me: See? You’re walking.
Boone: I’m walking.
Wyatt: Sweet.
Me: Okay. Now, try it without holding onto my hand.
Boone: What?
Me: Walk to me. It’s just a few steps.
Boone: You’re kidding.
Wyatt: Don’t push him. He’s not ready.
Boone: Yeah, I’m not ready.
Me: You’re ready. Just put one foot in front of the other.
Boone: All right. Here I go...
Wyatt: This is not going to end well.
Me: C’mon, Wyatt. He’s got this.
Boone: Put... one... foot... in... fro— WHOA!
Wyatt: And he’s down.
Boone: Ow!
Me: You okay?
Boone: Ow, ow, ow. Clearly, I’m not okay.
Wyatt: You really should’ve moved that plastic piano thing.
Boone: Yeah. That thing hurts, old man.
Me: Sorry. I should’ve cleared a path. You want to try again?
Boone: Not right now. I think I’d rather cry uncontrollably for a while.
Me: But, it was just a little bump.
Boone: Doesn’t matter. It was scary.
Wyatt: I told you he wasn’t ready.
Me: You’re not helping.
Wyatt: I know. I’m going to jump on him now.

Primal Scream

Wyatt: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Me: Hey! Stop yelling.
Wyatt: Why? It’s fun. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Boone: That does look like fun. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Me: Please, guys. Inside voice.
Wyatt: You say that to us all the time, but I have no idea what it means.
Me: I know, but when I say it, I speak in a calm, low tone. Soon, you’ll get what I mean by mimicking me.
Boone: Right now, I’m mimicking Wyatt. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Wyatt: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Me: Guys, for the love of God.
Boone: This is what we do, old man. We learn from each other.
Wyatt: Yeah, you’re always talking about how that’s a good thing.
Me: Sure, when it comes to words and walking and stuff. But, this is—
Boone: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Wyatt: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Me: Maddening.
Wyatt: You can’t have it both ways.
Boone: Either we learn everything from each other or we learn nothing.
Me: I know, I know. But you also learn some stuff from me and your mom, right?
Boone: Mom is awesome.
Wyatt: She’s great with those flash cards.
Boone: Yeah, she does the flash cards awesome.
Me: I do flash cards with you.
Boone: She does them better.
Wyatt: It’s true.
Me: How can... Well, you must learn something from me.
Wyatt: We do. How to push your buttons. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Boone: EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Wrestling Is Half The Battle

Boone: Look. I just figured out how to connect these two little plastic things.
Me: That’s great. You can string a bunch of them together and make a chain.
Boone: Cool.
Wyatt: COBRA CLUTCH LEG SWEEP!
Boone: Whoa! OW!
Wyatt: Hey, let me see those plastic things.
Boone: No, I’m working on something.
Wyatt: Gimme.
Boone: Give that back!
Wyatt: How’d you connect these things together?
Boone: Hey, old dude. This is your cue to step in and lay down some justice.
Me: Your doctor said I should let you guys work this stuff out.
Boone: What good could possibly come of that?
Me: It teaches you how to interact with other babies.
Wyatt: I guess you interact by getting thrown to the ground.
Boone: Watch it, bro.
Wyatt: In your defense, no one can stop my cobra clutch leg sweep.
Boone: Dude, I think you need to tell us how this should play out.
Me: This isn’t like you trying to climb the bookshelf. For stuff like that, sure, I’ll step in and tell you you’re wrong—
Boone: I still say I could’ve made it to the top.
Me: But, this stuff is more nuanced. You need to learn how to make decisions like when to share or when to defend yourself.
Wyatt: Yeah, dude. You’ve got to learn that stuff.
Me: To be honest, Boone, I’m surprised you haven’t laid into Wyatt yet.
Boone: What do you mean?
Me: You’ve got an advantage of over three pounds on him.
Boone: I do?
Wyatt: He does?
Me: Yup.
Boone: Hmm... FLYING FOREARM SMASH!
Wyatt: OW! That hurt, dude.
Boone: I’ll take those plastic things now.
Wyatt: Hey, I was playing with those... What’s wrong with you, old man.
Boone: Yeah. Why are you crying?
Me: It’s just great to see you guys learning.

Hitting The Problem Head-On

Boone: I’m bored.
Me: Here. Take this book.
Boone: Cool! A book.
Wyatt: What about me? I’m bored, too.
Me: Um... How about this truck?
Boone: OW!
Me: What happened?
Boone: I hit myself in the head with the book.
Wyatt: Ha-ha!
Boone: Shut up.
Me: You’re okay, Boone.
Boone: It hurt! Why would you give me something that hurt me like that?
Wyatt: Yeah, dude. That’s kinda messed up.
Me: You can hit yourself in the head with anything. I can’t just stop giving you things to play with.
Boone: Well, you should watch me more closely then.
Me: But, there are two of you. Sometimes, one of you needs more attention than the other.
Wyatt: Not our problem, dude.
Boone: Yeah. You need to figure out a way to make sure we don’t hit ourselves in the head with things.
Me: I thought you’d have figured out not to do that by now.
Wyatt: And you need to keep us from getting bored.
Boone: Right.
Me: Okay. I will do my best.
Wyatt: OW! I hit myself in the head with this truck!
Boone: Not off to a good start, old man.

Words Fail Me

Me: What is this?
Wyatt: Bear.
Me: That’s right. It’s a bear. That’s great.
Boone: So, he knows the word “bear.” Big deal.
Me: Say it again.
Wyatt: Bear.
Me: Good!
Wyatt: Dude, I am rocking that “bear” thing.
Boone: You realize if you ever met a real bear it would swallow you like a pepperoni Hot Pocket.
Me: Don’t get mad, Boone. You’ll get these words soon.
Boone: Whatever. I can turn all the toys on and off. He can’t do that.
Me: What’s this, Wyatt?
Wyatt: Turtle.
Me: Yes, it’s a turtle. That’s great. How about this?
Wyatt: Mama.
Me: No, that’s a truck.
Wyatt: Okay. Then, that’s mama.
Me: No, that’s a dog.
Wyatt: Mama.
Me: That’s a monkey.
Wyatt: Mama.
Boone: Uh-oh. Looks like we’ve reached the end of his genius.
Wyatt: Mama, mama, mama, mama—
Me: I think he slipped a cog.
Boone: Want me to find his off switch?

A Nose By Any Other Name

Me: Blow your nose.
Boone: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Me: You’ve got a runny nose, so blow into this hanky.
Boone: This what?
Wyatt: You’re talking gibberish, dude.
Me: It’s easy. Just blow air through your nose. It clears away the snot. You’ll breathe better.
Boone: Into that?
Me: Yes. It’s a hanky.
Wyatt: It looks like a sock.
Me: Well, it is a sock, but it’s a hanky for this purpose.
Boone: You can’t just go changing things up on us like that. You’re telling me a sock can also be a... a...
Wyatt: A hanky.
Boone: A hanky. How am I supposed to learn anything?
Wyatt: Yeah. It’s like when you call the dog “Mike.”
Me: His name is Mike.
Wyatt: So he’s a dog and a Mike? You’re really screwing us up here, old man. Like learning the English language from scratch wasn’t challenging enough.
Boone: And let’s not forget that he wants me to do some weird nose thing.
Wyatt: Right.
Me: Look, you can refer to things in multiple ways. For instance, you guys are twins, but you could also be called “brothers.”
Boone: Wait. What?
Me: You’re also “siblings.”
Wyatt: Dude! Stop! You’re frying my synapses here.
Boone: I need an aspirin.
Me: It’s okay. You’ll figure it out over time. For now, just blow through your nose—
Boone: Fine. Snaaaaaaghrrrr!... Wow. That’s disgusting.
Me: Next time, wait until I have the hanky in front of your face.
Wyatt: You mean the sock.