The little shit

My grandson turned 4 recently and he gives every indication that, unique as he is, he seems to be turning into the stereotypical man, in at least one respect.

Last night, as family gathered for a pre-Thanksgiving dinner at our place, I heard him, above the boisterous din, yelling out from the bathroom. I think we all heard it, and we all ignored it. But after about the third time, well, I couldn’t make out what he was hollering about, so I went to check in on the little feller.

I opened the door and looked in.

“Whaddaya want?”

“I need another book.”

“Whaddaya need a book for, you’re sitting on the toilet? Do your thing and let’s go.”

Now ordinarily, I’d do anything for him, but our house is one of those 70’s style ranch things that’s about 35 feet deep but 90 feet long, seemingly in each direction, and from the bathroom our bookshelves are the farthest points away in any direction. Getting another book is a pain in the ass, especially considering the relatives and the conversations I want to get back to. Plus, there’s no guarantee the book I’d get is the book he wants. Not only that, but for three years we couldn’t get him to go on the toilet. Now that he’s turned 4, we can’t get him off.

“Whaddaya need another book for, you’ve already got three on the floor in front of you?” It was true. He had Danny and the Dinosaur and two picture books about trucks.

“I’ve read those already.”

“You’ve read ’em 50 times, what’s one more? Just do your thing and let’s go.”

“OK. Fine!”

The latest thing the little shit’s been up to is unscrewing the light bulbs in the lamps he can reach or probably even climb. I found this out the hard way.

Marsha and I had to get up around 5:30 Monday so I’d set the alarm, and when it went blaring off, I reached for the light to see well enough to turn the goddamn thing off before it woke up the whole house. I reached to turn on the lamp and … nothing.

“Son of a bitch! who unplugged the — it’s not unplugged. Well, who’s, what the? The lightbulb’s not screwed in? Who’d have? Ohhhhhhh.”

How do I know? Oh, I know all right. That little shit.

The reason I really know is because I woke up at 3:30 this morning with this story idea and as I fumbled my way through jet darkness to my work desk to write about all this business, I turned on the lamp switch and?

That little shit unscrewed this one, too! Sigh …

One part of our house serves as something like a bank track. You could, not that you would, take a lap that runs from the kitchen counter, around the bend into the family room, then into the foyer, then into an other room that doesn’t have a name, it’s just sort of there, then the short homestretch back to the counter.

This is where I get much of my exercise, for I am a monster, the monster, in fact. I’m good at it, too. The grandkids, including the little you know what, asked me if I’d pretend to play monster.

Play monster? Haven’t you heard? Tonight, I’m a real monster. GROWLLLL.

And it’s off to the races, round and round, faster and faster, like Sambo’s tigers, and louder and louder. Oh, and the dog, Luna (Lunatic is more like it.), gets in on it too, barking, leaping. Her bark is an ear-piercing, mind-blowing YIPE. It’s hilarious how loud this cat-and-mouse game gets and for how long it can go on for. And it’s not without hazard. This monster has to be extra careful. Luna can deliver a head butt to a sensitive area that’s as good as a knockout punch.

Four kids and two dogs, and in a few days it’ll be six kids and three dogs and maybe even a cat. That’s a lot of monstering.

I’m not sure why I got up at 3:30 to write all this but I have a suspicion. The reason Marsha and I got up so early the day before was for an appointment to receive a B-vitamin infusion. We get to the doc’s office, they sit us down and stick needles in us connected to a drip from a bag of what looks like, and for all I know, is gatorade.

Our doctor, Dr. Gupta, suggested we do this and since Medicare covers it, he asked, why not? He’s been great that way. If there are things Medicare covers and it’s good for us, then let’s get it done. He’s helped Marsha a lot.

If she’s got this and this and this, then let’s do this and this and that. As for the vitamin infusion, he said it’ll boost our immune system and give us more energy.

But starting at 3 a.m.? I sure hope that’s not what I’m in for. I want more energy. I mean, who doesn’t? But at the back end. Everyone is still fast asleep and here I am raring to go. Just my luck to get it backwards.