Earlier this week I wrote about the five baby-related items that made our first year as parents a little more bearable. These were all items in which our son had little say; because they were for us, not for him.
But now, as we get closer to Christmas, and our son gets closer to self-awareness, we have to take begin taking his “interests” into consideration.
Which – since his interests continue to be, in no particular order: Knocking Things Off the Table, Throwing Food on the Ground, Stealing Daddy’s Cellphone, Throwing Daddy’s Cellphone to the Ground, and Saying Hi to Strangers – really means trying to guess-slash-influence his interests based on his emerging personality.
It’s not easy, and, as I suspect will continue to be the case years from now, is largely a waste of time, since I’m just going to buy the cheapest knock-off of the most hyped gift every Christmas. At least, that’s what I’ll do after my wife divorces me. Unfortunately, until then we’ll have to actually pay attention to our son while also staying up to date on exactly what the people inside the TV think children his age most desperately need to own.
So while we haven’t yet figured any of that out, I’ve definitely figured out what he won’t be getting. Here’s the list.
Five Gifts My Son Will NOT Be Getting For Christmas
1 – Fake Plastic Cell Phone
He won’t be fooled. He doesn’t want a piece of plastic with light up buttons. He wants Daddy’s expensive iPhone. He knows the difference, somehow. The same way he inexplicably knows how to use a phone even though my wife and I almost exclusively text. I blame
natural selection Creationism. Jesus made sure he knows the difference between a toy phone and a real phone. As such, I won’t insult him with this crap.
2 – A Tool Bench
The first reason we’re not getting him a tool bench? Because I don’t want my son to start asking me questions I can’t answer, and I can’t answer any questions about tools. Every time I put something together, I miss a crucial piece and have to disassemble it and reassemble it all over again. It’s really frustrating, especially if the robot you are building WON’T SHUT UP.
The second reason we’re not getting him a little play tool bench? Because we are getting him a play kitchen set instead. Why are we getting him a kitchen set? Because FUCK GENDER STEREOTYPES, that’s why. I find it much more ridiculous that Guy Fieri chooses to walk around looking like he does than that he’s a man who happens to be a cook. And unlike with a tool kit, there is nothing my son might learn in the kitchen that would make me feel bad about myself for not knowing. Now go cook me an omelette. EXTRA BACON.
3 – Movie-Themed Legos
No Star Wars legos or Indiana Jones legos or other cool themed Lego sets. Because they would be for me, not for him, and he would eat them, and it would be a pain to wait for Indy’s fedora or Boba Fett’s jetpack to emerge into my son’s diaper. It’s just not worth it.
4 – Makeup
My aversion to gender stereotyping only goes so far. Let’s at least let the kid make some choices of his own before we start getting all Boy George up in here. (Random aside: Who’s the current equivalent to Boy George? Lady Gaga? I mean, she’s a weird looking member of her gender who willfully dresses up in ways that both obscure and make gender irrelevant. And she has a few pop hits. If she shaves her head and starts tweeting about toothbrushes, we’ll know for sure. But it’s either her or Bieber.)
My wife won’t let me. And it’s impractical. We live in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, which means if we had a cat, we’d suddenly have two containers of shit inside our house. I draw the line at one container of shit. And if we had a dog, it would have to be one of those crappy little dogs no one but rich hotel heiresses like. Also, not sure a pet would qualify as a gift for our son, who would neither have any responsibility for it nor give a crap one way or the other. I mean, the dude responds to almost everything the same exact way:
“Hey! I dont know what that is but I want it. Give it to me! Give it to me right now. You’re making me angry. SCREAM! CRY! Oh good, now I have it, whatever it is. Whoops, now I’ve dropped it. Give it back to me. GIVE IT BACK! SCREAM! CRY! Oh good, now I have it again. I still don’t know what this is but it’s definitely mine. I wonder what this tastes like. GAG! SCREAM! CRY! That was gross. Hey, I wonder what this tastes like. GAG! SCREAM! CRY! WHY ARE YOU TAKING MY POSSESSIONS FROM ME! GIVE IT BACK! SCREAM! CRY! Hey what’s that over there?”
And, more importantly: my wife won’t let me.