July 22, 2016
I’m a typical Dad. I want my kids to be safe, happy and healthy. I want them to be smart and well adjusted. I want them to be thoughtful and kind. But more than all that standard crap I want them to have Moxie!
My desire is to have entertaining kids with pluck. I want them to be fascinating scamps who will do precocious things you never expect that catch you a little off guard and leave people amazed. The type of kids who always turn up in viral videos that get millions of hits because they’re full of spunk and spirit. The problem is they’re not giving me that. They’re giving me this.
Sure, they’re cute but they’re not Mayim Bialik in Beaches.
(OK, maybe I don’t need them to have this much moxie.)
Is being precocious hereditary? If so, they’re got a 50/50 shot. I don’t rate very well on the moxie scale. Doctor’s don’t test for moxie but if they did, I’m sure they’d have to put me on some type of supplements for it. My wife however, if full of this quality. After all, you don’t become an Animal Planet Reality Show winner without a lot of pluck!
(This show was so poorly rated this was the only photo I could find)
Just like kids with moxie she says entertaining and inappropriate things without thinking and stares at people for extended periods of time without realizing she’s doing it. So, the kids have some of her DNA and that gives me hope.
But let’s face it there’s no way I’ll have TWO precocious children. I should focus on the one that has the best chance. To do this I need to analyze them and figure out their potential moxie score.
He never stops moving which is a great sign. He’s also very interested in things that could harm him, like electrical outlets, large swinging doors that will take off his fingers and the liquor in my Denny’s mug. I think living on the edge of danger is part of having moxie.
He only says a few things. “Eat,” “Keys,” “Yes,” and “One, two, three,” are pretty much his staples right now, so I’ll have to wait to see how he starts stringing words together and what horribly embarrassing things he’s likely to say in public because I’m positive this kid will have no filter. He’s definitely has the potential to scream loudly in the Supermarket, “Daddy, that woman is fat just like you!” Here’s hoping he at least takes me down along with whatever fat lady he insults.
He does cry quite a bit when he doesn’t get his way which he needs to work on. People with moxie are seldom weepy.
He also likes to give me a stylish announcement when I return home from work by extending one arm outward and yelling, “Dada!” I almost feel like I’m being called upon to perform. I think to enhance his moxie we’ll start putting him on a stead diet of Home Alone films.
By the way, Kevin McCallister is the shining example of moxie being limited within a family. He had about a dozen brothers and sisters and he was the only one with genuine hutspa. **I’m setting a record for words commonly used in the 1930s and 40s.
Potential Moxie Score – 8.5
Not a chance in the world that this kid has moxie. While Charles appears to have inherited my wife’s energy and spirit, Arthur has been saddled with mine.
His sense of adventure is zero. He’s yet to utter his first words in my presence. The girl who runs his daycare assures us that he’s said, “hi” and “yes” but I’m pretty sure some kid there was using him as a ventriloquist dummy.
I think as far as Arthur’s concerned he figures, “Why speak? Everything’s going along just fine.” When jibberish and an occasional scream gets the job done why put in the effort to enunciate an actual word. I get it. By the time 10pm rolls around I usually use grunts as my main form of communication. My wife has become fluent in understanding my grunts and even knows when a word like “ughhh” means “Scrub back a little on House of Cards. I’m lost.”
Unlike his brother, Arthur’s not much of a walker either. He’s entered his cruising phase and seems extremely content with holding on to a stroller to walk around. The only thing missing from making my house feel like Arthur’s personal senior home is tennis balls on his walker, a bowl of ribbon candy and a little Dixie Cup set aside with medication.
(Here’s recent photo of Arthur whose first words are likely to be, “Is today, pudding day”? or “How come the kids never come to visit”?)
Like his old man, Arthur will likely grow up to be the type of guy who wonders why people travel all the way to Europe when they could just go to Epcot Center in Orlando and see all the countries in one weekend. Arthur’s a “stay-cation” kind of guy. People with moxie don’t do “stay-cations.”
(What’s on the itinerary today? I think I’ll visit the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower, have some lunch and go for a gondola ride in Venice.)
Don’t worry about being like your old man, Arthur. Shakespeare said, “All the world’s a stage.” And if this is true the world needs an audeince. Let’s grab some comfy seats and watch the others put in all the effort for our amusement.
Potential Moxie Score – Negative 2
OK, Charles, it’s all up to you. Start working on becoming this kid.
Arthur and I are kind of tired. We’re going to have a snack and watch.
Least Favorite Child Results
July 16 – Least Favorite is Arthur. Unlike mothers, fathers actually can sleep when the baby sleeps. Charles sees the value in a three hour nap on a Saturday afternoon as does his father. Arthur feels 15 minutes is fine and wakes up looking for someone to keep him company.
July 17 – Least Favorite is Charles. While feeding him yogurt he went to grab the spoon and delivered a huge dollop of vanilla straight into my eyes.
July 18 – Least Favorite is Arthur. It’s really his mother’s fault. While watching Trump deliver a speech on TV, my wife changed the channel and said that Arthur would rather watch Tec The Tractor. Arthur should use his mother to do his dirty work.
July 19 – Least Favorite is Arthur. Hey Arthur, if you’re going to explore what’s under the couch have an escape plan so I don’t have to respond to your cries for help like you’re a baby who fell down a well.
July 20 – Least Favorite is Charles. He’s done it a thousand times and it pisses me off every time. Carrying him to the car, he delivered a head butt to my eye. These kids know where you’re most vulnerable and go for it.
July 21 – Least Favorite is Arthur. You know what I never do when I’m sleeping? I never carelessly wedge an arm or a leg into two wooden slats and get them stuck. And because of that I never have to shriek to have them unstuck so I can continue sleeping. You might want to emulate your father on that trait, Arthur.
Least Favorite Child Year One – Charles
Total Days As Least Favorite Child – Year Two
Arthur – 32
Charles – 25
Days since Neil Patrick Harris received my post and hasn’t responded – 347