Monday, November 05, 2001

Geoff and His Glasses

The Yankees lost. A sad day for New Yorkers. Yet this picture of Derek Jeter makes me smile.

Aw. Poor baby. Sitting in the dugout. Alone. Sad. Dejected. Watching the Diamondbacks celebrate and run around like freaks. And loser McJeter here ... ha ha ha ha ha.

I wish this picture was bigger so we could see the pain and suffering on his stupid punkass face. Oh I hate this guy so much. That's all I have to say on the Spankees today. The Boston Globe online had a couple great pictures of him right after he struck out. But this one speaks volumes to me.

I love my son. Honest to God, I do. That being said, and accepted and believed, this is what the child put me through this weekend:

I am irritated with myself. It is 6pm on Saturday night, and I feel like I am ready to have one of my freakout fits. I'm mad for leaving something at the office that I should have had here, and I am mad for taking my eyes off my son for 2 seconds.

We picked Geoff's brand new glasses up today. He went out to play in the yard. Doug took a nap. I did dishes. Geoff came back in the house, sans glasses.

I have NO idea where they are and the pisser is that neither does he. He doesn't know where he set them down... and because of the end of daylight savings time, it is 6pm, and I have a pitch dark third of an acre of land to cover if I want to find them.

I don't think I can even put into words the feelings of aggravation I have right now. I mean, it's pithy. Small. Out of my control. And it puts a hair across my crack that irritates me to no end to know that there is NOTHING I can can do right now to rectify the situation.

At age 4 and a half, you would think that by now he'd hear the things we tell him. And when he agrees to the things we tell him you'd think that he might actually do it.

"Geoff, you're gonna take really good care of these glasses, right?"

"Yes!" he enthusiastically responds adjusting his specs and looking at himself in the mirror.

"You're gonna use the case and always put them by your bed, and keep them on at school? Right?"

"Oh yes, I love my glasses!"

"You aren't going to take them off and put them in the grass in the back yard or leave them outside or anything, are you????"

"No mommy, I love my glasses. I will keep them good."


Never trust a 4 year old. Ever.

So here we are... less than 3 hours later, no glasses, a pissed off daddy, a child freaking out because dad went to the market without him (Geoff loves to go to the market and help shop, not sure why, but it's the highlight of his week and we punished him by making him stay home).

I told him that he has to pray he finds the glasses, thinking as I do sometimes that I'm speaking to an adult. So what does Geoff do, he gets on his knees in the kitchen and starts praying.

"Oh God, Oh my God. I am SO sorry I lost my glasses." He's so earnest. Hands clasped tightly, eyes squeezed shut. "Please God, please come down here and find my glasses for me."

How can you stay mad at that. I pulled him into the living room and explained that prayer isn't magic. God isn't going to swoop down and find his glasses for him. What he needs to pray for is that he will remember by the Grace of God what he did with said specs, and that we will find them. I left it at that with him.

Doug found Geoff's glasses outside in the yard, with the blessing of sunshine they were easy to spot. In the middle of the yard in the grass far away from everything else. He's worn them all day and will hopefully never do this again. I wouldn't put it past him though. He's a beast with these things.

We did church this morning. Jessica was invited by the choir director to be in kid's choir. She has a great voice, and enjoys singing. I think that music helps kids figure out how the service works.

After the glasses were recovered, we had a good Sunday overall. Lots of good football (the Patriots played unbelievably well... the Steelers' place kicker was on heroin. Missed 4 of 5 tries...). Doug made a killer potroast. MMMMMMM. Good stuff. I love when he cooks, too bad he refuses to clean though. Otherwise he'd be dreamspouse 2001.

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