Have I Mentioned that I'm Raising My Dad?

I don't know who reads this blog, or if anyone reads this blog, but I'm going to assume you never had the pleasure of meeting my Dad.  My Dad was a loving dad and a super Grandpa. He was a good cook, really smart (in fact, he'd be the first to tell you that), and (he believed) never, ever wrong. I also never met a person in my life who liked to argue as much as he did. My Dad would argue with me just to see me get annoyed and wouldn't stop until he had proven his point.  Often his point was not even something he remotely believed in or even cared about, He just felt like arguing that point of view that day. On another day you would find him fighting vehemently to convince me of the opposing view.

Dad holding himself?

If I mentioned, for instance, that I liked rutabagas, or yellow balloons, or downhill skiing, he would spend the next hour proving to me WITHOUT A DOUBT that rutabagas (or yellow balloons, or downhill skiing) were the MAIN PROBLEM with this society. My preference for rutabagas were HURTING THE ECONOMY and LEAVING PEOPLE HOMELESS. He would cite examples of why this was true, he would quote statistics, and he WOULD.NOT.STOP. until I finally said something like, "Okay, Dad, I see your point. I won't touch a rutabaga/yellow balloon/downhill ski, ever, ever in my life."

Then, satisfied, he'd hand me a can of Diet Rite and we'd watch The People's Court.

That's Dad in a nutshell.

My Dad passed away when Ben was one year old. They didn't really get a chance to know each other, but as the years go on I am beginning to suspect that Ben IS my Dad.

Since Dad so loved to prove things, allow me to attempt to prove my "Ben is Dad" theory.

Exhibit A: One day when Ben was in the bathtub, at about 3 years old, I saw a bunny outside the window.  I pulled Ben out of the bath so he could see.  "Look at that bunny!" I said.  Ben replied, "I don't like that bunny. If I had a gun I'd shoot that bunny, dead." then looked at my face to see what kind of expression he had just caused me to have. I was, of course, shocked. Ben loved bunnies! But what does Ben love more than bunnies?  Being controversial and contrary.  I'm completely convinced that if he had the verbal skills at that time, he would have given me a lecture on the evils of bunnies in our society.

Never believes you when you tell him what time it is.

Exhibit B: This is way more than just one incident, this is an entire category I'm going to call, "Ben knows and you don't".  This includes the time I was trying to teach him how to count to 5 when he was two years old and he spent the whole day arguing that I was wrong, the number 4 didn't exist. "You count to 5 like dis! One, two, free, FIVE!" All day he argued this.  All.day.  This also includes hundreds of inquiries about the time.  "What time is it?"  "8:00"  "NO!  It's 6:30!" And (my favorite, but not really) the "You don't know how to get where we're going" series.  In which Ben tells me randomly "You missed your turn!" (when I didn't) "You were supposed to turn LEFT!" (when I wasn't) and "This is the wrong road. You should be on a different road." (No).  Also: You're driving too fast, school is the other way, you should have stopped at that light, and many, many more.

Exhibit C: This is the last one I have time for today, but rest assured, there are many, many more. This happened yesterday. Ben came home with a behavior report from the bus driver. It says he is standing up on the bus and refusing to sit down. When I asked him about it the conversation went like this:  Me: Why aren't you listening on the bus? Him: I AM listening on the bus!  Me: The bus driver says you aren't. Him: The bus driver is lying. Me: No. The bus driver isn't lying. Him: Actually the bus driver has me confused with another kid because another kid was standing up on the bus. The bus driver is confused.  Me: The bus driver is not confused.  Now go to your room and think about this for awhile.

Looks sweet and innocent. Will relentlessly critique
 your driving skills

After an hour or so, just long enough that I seriously started to doubt whether this kid had a conscience, he came downstairs.  He told me he did stand up on the bus, and he just didn't want to sit down so he didn't. With tears glistening in his eyes, he said he was sorry for not listening. Also? I'm the best mommy in the whole, whole world and he loves me so, so, so much. Have I mentioned that my dad was also very charming?


Oh well, I was satisfied enough that if I had had one, I would have grabbed a Diet Rite for both of us and sat down with him to watch The People's Court.