Hanging from the Chandelier

16 Apr

We have a middle child… I know that is shocking to hear but it is what happens when your family offspring is an odd number. There is a middle. Our middle is a smug, shy, adventurous little boy whom we named Trevor and lovingly call Monkey, Tad, or a random mild profanity. Raising this boy over the past two years has me contemplating whether or not I have Tourette’s, schizophrenia, or both. I think it is passed time for us to talk about him.

Trevor was destined to be a middle child. In fact, had we not had Elise, he would be the oddest baby of a family I’d ever seen. See most kids that are the youngest of their clan are, well… spoiled. Take my wife for instance – er – never mind, bad example. But I think you know what I mean. Close your eyes, think about families you know and the youngest child is usually the prince or princess who gets away with FAR more than the older children got away with. C’est la vie. So Trevor’s spirit just never fit being the baby of the family. He wasn’t ever about being spoiled; he was all about being ornery! Trev is just… Trev.

If we didn’t have his spirit in our family we would actually appear publicly quite sadnessnormal. But he is the catalyst that propels us toward circus status. Whether we are out to eat and he randomly sends his entire plate to the floor or we are in the store and he knocks an entire product off the shelf a la Sadness from Inside Out, he always keeps us on our toes.

I know many of you reading this can’t believe that such an adorable child could possibly be that difficult. Let me just be blunt. Most days his cuteness is the only thing between him and Military Kindergarten. Wait – do they have Military Kindergarten? I just made that up. Now I have to look into it. Huh – his cuteness might not have saved him after all.
Here is a sampling of the adventures of Tad:

Sword fights – with wine glasses: Once the Mrs. was sorting some laundry and in walks Trevor, hands bloodied. Running back downstairs – which she had left a mere 1 minute earlier – she found two wine glasses shattered on the living room floor. Two things came out of this: 1) a lock on the dishwasher & 2) more wine glasses in the dishwasher.

Hanging from the chandelier: Trevor is literally a monkey. Or maybe he is more mountain goat. He climbs everything with shocking ease. His favorite obstacle is the counter height dining table we have. We’ve done just about everything to keep him off it. We’ve laid the chairs down, he uses them as a step stool. We’ve placed them on the table, he pulls them off. We’ve locked them in the closet, he picked the lock with his pacifier and next thing you know he’s back dancing on top of the table. His go-to entertainment once he gets up there is to hang from the light above the table. Much to the chagrin of our friends who also have kids and prefer to keep theirs off the table, we have just given up on that fight. Sorry ’bout it.

Scissors: If you haven’t caught on yet, the kid loves danger. He recently has developed an affinity to pushing a chair over to the cabinet where we have the scissors stored and getting them out. Once I had them in my back pocket, had my back turned to him, and the next thing I know he was crying. He had pick-pocketed me and poked himself near the eye.

Button-Pushing: On one morning the house was quiet. A little too quiet. And then the microwave turned on. Trevor had pushed a chair over to the oven, climbed up on top of the stove, and turned on the microwave. I can’t make this up…nor do I have to continue and clarify just how bad that one could have been.

Dog Food: Lacking proper nutrition from his parents, he supplements by visiting the dog dish frequently. He will often come up to you with chipmunk cheeks full of Authority Natural Chicken & Rice dog food, both insanely proud of himself and bewildered as to why you could possibly be upset enough to take his tasty treat away. Speaking of tasty treats, we have also learned to be extra alert when he is in the back yard and we haven’t picked up after the dogs that day…

I could go on and on … and on… about all of the things Trevor does to earn his middle child stripes, but I am making myself sick remembering and a little worried someone is going to call DFS on us. I promise you we are attentive, caring, responsible parents. By the way, I am not writing this for parenting advice on how to care for the little turd. If you believe you have ways to cure him, I will send him to you FREE – including shipping and handling. You can send him back once you get him straightened out or realize you’re just as inept as I am. I won’t hold my breath.

I love that boy with all of my heart, despite all of the frustrating moments we have had in two short years. I will often tell the Mrs that in a few years he is going to be so much fun because he is always up for doing anything. My kind of kid! But until then I am leaning toward taking a “can’t beat ’em, join ’em” approach. Don’t be surprised if you find me hanging from the chandelier!

Trevor

 

 

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One Response to “Hanging from the Chandelier”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Girls Poop Stinks Too | House of Pickles - May 7, 2017

    […] with the Mrs where we were discussing how difficult Tad had been that day (take your pick on what he was doing) and I said the most absurd thing a Dad could […]

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