September 30

Monkey’s love bananas. You know how I know this?  Because I’ve heard it 15,000 times since Arthur and Charles have started using their bouncy seat play area that has all sorts of buttons and gadgets.  I’ve also learned the following.

  • Apples are red
  • Mmmm, grapes (followed by a “boing” sound)


(This monkey has a pretty complacent look for someone holding what they love.)

I’m not a genius.  Years ago, when instructed to write my signature on a tax form, I actually wrote the word “signature.”  I realized my mistake immediately, but let’s face it, that’s the type of error made by someone who’s brain isn’t firing on all it’s synapses.

That’s why I’m very concerned about the process of making Arthur and Charles smart and how it will effect me.  Especially when I caught myself in the produce section of grocery store last night saying out loud, “Monkeys love bananas” upon seeing them, followed by “Mmmm, grapes.”


(Apples are red, so what are those green things next to the apples?)

It’s obvious that this toy/play area that’s designed to stimulate my children’s brains is dulling mine along with making me the creepy guy at the Von’s Supermarket.  Another big key to an infants brain development is talking to them.  If this is accurate my Boys stand to become the next Stephen Hawking.  My wife and have always been extremely chatty to the point of annoyance.

But now, I find myself talking to these babies non stop in an attempt to make them little geniuses.  Here’s a sampling of what I’m saying that will someday enable them to solve complex mathematical equations like Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.

  • Where’s your tummy?
  • Who’s Daddy’s smart boy?
  • Who just did a stinky fart?
  • Who just drooled on Daddy?

Clearly I have a lot of questions for Arthur and Charles rather than definitive statements.  This type of talking is creeping into my day to day life.  Yesterday I asked a co-worker, “Who just got a haircut”?  The strange look I got from him was likely a result of my asking him this question in the same tone I use on Charles when I ask, “Who’s got a bellybutton.”  I’m not just the moron at the Grocery Store.  I’m also the dope at the office now.


(“Who just used the word synergy and organic in the morning meeting”?)

And when I run out of questions for these kids, I just start making consonant noises at them to develop their speaking skills.  On Saturday I held Arthur for a half an hour uttering, “ma, ma, ma, da, da, da, ka, ka, ka.”  He looked confused.  He might have been wondering if his father was a caveman.


(Here I am on my way to a parent teacher meeting six years from now)

Maybe I”m looking at this the wrong way.  If making these kids smart is turning me into an idiot, I should embrace it.  I’ve always spent way too much time trying to look smarter than I actually am.  Now that the small amount of grey matter I have is slowly being chipped away I can enjoy the bliss of ignorance.  People will stop asking me my opinion on things or if I remember facts from conversations held earlier in the day.  These babies will allow me to shirk any mental responsibilities.

I think reading the Bellybutton Book 5,000 times should get me off the hook when it comes to helping people figure out a solution to anything.

And as long as I can remember how to use the TV remote, will I ever need to know anything more than the one fundamental truth that gets us all through the day?  Monkey’s do indeed love bananas.

Least Favorite Child Results

September 28 – Least Favorite is Charles.  We’ve been sleep training the Boys.  That means when they cry or fuss at night, we don’t just shove a bottle in their mouth.  We go over periodically during a meltdown and let them know we’re there for comfort without feeding them.  In Charles’ eyes, we fall way short of the payoff of a bottle of milk.  Forty five minutes of continuous screaming from 3:30am to 4:15am hammered that home.

September 29 – Least Favorite is Charles.  See September 28.  In Charles’ defense, he only last 43 minutes this night.  What’s just as concerning is the fact that Arthur doesn’t even wake up during this shrieking.  It can’t be good to sleep this deeply.  I don’t envy waking him for school in the years to come.  I’ll probably have to re-enact the Ice Bucket Challenge to get his eyes to open.

Total Days as Least Favorite Child

Charles – 52 Days

Arthur – 45 Days

Tied as Least Favorite – 1 Day

Days Since Neil Patrick Harris Received My Post and Hasn’t Responded – 75


Someone is having the Best Time Ever not getting back to me.