Charles Chips Away At My Self Esteem


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December 9, 2016

I had been feeling good about myself in regard to my appearance.  Since I visited my parents about a year ago and they remarked about how fat I was it became my mission to shed the excess poundage. And I knew that pleasing my parents was a long shot, so when they looked at me and told me I should put on some weight back on, I took it in stride.


(I’d love my parents to weigh in at the Biggest Loser finale to bring everyone down.)

I’ve lost almost fifty pounds in order to avoid being the “fat” dad and had been feeling great.  Charles, however, is keeping me in check. When I come home at the end of the day, Charles is always the happiest to see me and greets me with an enthusiastic, “Dadu!!”  Isn’t that adorable?  I certainly used to think it was.  But I was due to be knocked down a peg.  Charles seemed to think one peg wasn’t enough.

During our trip to see my family over Thanksgiving, Charles let out another boisterous “Dadu!!” on morning number one.  He let it out when he saw my father.  My 85 year old, poor postured father.  Really, Charles?  I have some resemblance to my father, but did Charles really think I aged 36 years after a 3,000 mile plane flight and a bad night’s sleep in a poorly ventilated room?  I dealt with this by grabbing a few donuts in the kitchen.


(This is how I looked after we made the 3,000 mile trip back to Los Angeles)

After about a week I came to grips with the fact that Charles thinks “Dadu” looks like an 85 year old man.  I figured he’s just one and a half.  Kids that age are morons.  He drinks out of the dog’s water bowl why should I worry what he thinks.

Besides, I had little time to worry about my looks.  We were in the middle of moving to a bigger house with a nice yard for the boys, where they could frolic and play while their 85 year old Dad ran after them.  We had five days to clear out all our stuff and move to the new home.  We had an electrician doing some work while we moved in.  His name was the same as mine, Steve.  Here’s what Steve looked like.


Of course Steve wore a shirt and pants but when he bent down to work on an outlet he may as well have been dressed in the manner in the above photo.  Like I often do, I’ve telegraphed where this is going.  Who did Charles call “Dadu” next?  Yes, Steve the electrician.  My Dad might be 85 years old but at least he’s svelte.  Charles was totally going for the throat with this passive aggressive “Dadu” remark.  Here’s how he’s telling me he sees me.


(For the record I have that same chair, but not the guitar.)

My wife thinks it’s funny but assures me that Chalres has no agenda and that I look great.  I’m not sure I believe her. In a few years he’ll be at the age where he’ll be bring home a picture he drew of the family and I’m dreading how I’m rendered.


Will I be proud to hang this up on the fridge with the title, “Dadu”?

I’m not above payback though.  I plan on calling all sorts of things Charles from now on.







Two can play this game.

Least Favorite Child Results

Traveling and moving has taken me away from the blog over the past few weeks but I haven’t stopped keeping count.

November 21 – 26

Arthur was Least Favorite four days to two.  The worst was the flight back from Boston.  We had a seat for Charles but Arthur had to be strapped to me in my seat.  Have you ever flown six hours with an 18 month old strapped to your chest?  It’s gotta beat water boarding in terms of torture.  It was like being in a MMA fight where you aren’t allowed to hit back.

November 28- December 3

This is a well deserved 3-3 tie for Least Favorite honors.  I’ve never moved with two year and half old kids and don’t suggest it to anyone.  They are drawn to all sorts of sharp moving materials.  Even though the first things we did when we arrived was unpack every last toy for their entertainment, none of them could compete with anything resembling a box cutter.

December 5 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  I understand while Charles cries.  You take something away he’s holding.  The dog eats his breakfast bar.  I can see the cause and I understand the effect.  Arthur?  He might be looking out a window and start crying hysterically?  Is he contemplating the unjust aspects of the world?  Does he have depth?  Please, don’t let him have that type of depth.

December 6 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  As part of his new sensitive phase he refused to lie on his back for a diaper change.  Putting a diaper on a kid who rolls over on his stomach takes ten times longer.  He may have freed up his calendar for the day but I haven’t.

December 7 – Least Favorite is Arthur.  Another part of his sensitive phase is thrashing his head around and banging it on the floor.  He’s going to need a cat scan before he’s two. Charles just looks at me with a “What’s going on with this one” look.

December 8 – Least Favorite is Charles. The good old sneak poop right before bed is always a nice end to my day.

Least Favorite Child Year One – Charles

Total Days As Least Favorite Child – Year Two

Arthur – 92

Charles – 82

Days since Neil Patrick Harris received my post and hasn’t responded – 471

9 thoughts on “Charles Chips Away At My Self Esteem”

  1. I love your posts. Your writing style and humor are a mirror of my own, except your window is cleaner and a lot funnier.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. My favorite post to date! LOL

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You could always change him on his stomach. It works roughly the same (and really works for am blowout diapers- cause really what’s the point in flipping them over and squishing the poop “back in”).

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Todd Duffey Writes on Things said:

    Too much good stuff here. So happy you’re back. And please, don’t go out like Vito Corleone running after his grandson in the second Godfather film. Eat a celery stick, take a walk, for Stephen’s sake!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Congratulations on the weight loss! If it’s any consolation, my 11 year old (thereby old enough to know what he’s saying and no better, recently accused me of being from a “different era”. Furthermore, one of the 3 year olds I teach asked me why I had so much paint in my hair. Not paint; just grey hairs. Kids definitely deflate any ego we may have.

    PS I’ve flown with tiny children many times. 11 hours was the longest flight but mercifully none were attached to me. I did, however, do four hours with an 18 month old strapped to me. Screaming because his ears popped. And then he vomited. Profusely. All over me. So, yes, it’s a form of torture.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. 😂
    You had me busting out laughing while getting my hair done. 😂

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Lol, that was fun! It put the biggest smile on my face 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  8. My only wish is that you wrote daily so that I knew no matter what happened throughout the day, i would know all I had to do was make it to your blog to get a hearty laugh.

    Liked by 1 person

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