Monday, October 10, 2005

My Biggest Fan

So last night I’m installing a ceiling fan in my three-year-old son’s room. As it was dark out, I could not completely cut power to the room as I needed to plug a table lamp in to one of the outlets to see what I was doing. As I’m up on the ladder, with my hands immersed in a bird’s nest of wiring, my son comes in to see what I’m doing. Not satisfied with the light the table lamp is giving off, or just out of force of habit, he hits the light switch. The jolt hit me between my pinkie finger and a point halfway to my elbow and was freakin’ excruciating. My arm did the 115 hertz shuffle, my testicles retreated so far inside they were able to “high-five” my nipples and I fell backwards off the ladder while adding some colorful colloquialisms to my son’s vocabulary. He found this incredibly amusing and while I was curled up on the floor in the fetal position, massaging my savaged arm and hoping to get my natural gender back soon, he was doubled over and turning red in the face, laughing so hard that no sound was coming out.

Now, I love my new house and when I bought I proclaimed that this was the place I wanted to die in. I did not mean that I wanted to do so over the weekend. So before I got back to work, I turned off the wall switch, lectured my son about the dangers of electricity (which he found absolutely hilarious) and figured it was as good a time as any to teach my older daughter how to dial 9-1-1. As soon as I climbed back up the ladder however, the little shit kept faking going for the light switch so that he could bust up over my reaction to it. I finally had to lock the little cretin out of the room so that I at least had a chance of surviving my little home improvement project.

When the fan was finally hung though, I called my son in to show him. After he looked at it turned to me and shouted, “YOU DA MAN, DAD!”

I answered back, “No, you da man!”

“Yeah!” he laughed in return, “I da man wid da fan!”

Between my three-year-old’s willingness to inflict debilitating pain upon others for his own personal amusement and his ability to bust a rhyme on the spot, there is absolutely no way that I can ever even think of denying paternity on that one, though with his penchant for instigating mayhem and chaos everywhere he goes, I may be tempted to in the future for liability reasons.

5 Comments:

Blogger GMTMan said...

I never could dance well.

But man, can I do the 115 hertz shuffle...

I feel your pain.

2:27 PM  
Anonymous Jasco said...

Man! I Love this story!

Once again, you have turned a potentially deadly, frightening incident into hilarity.

Good to see you are making such essential phrases like "you da man" a part of his early vocabulary.

9:51 PM  
Anonymous LoB said...

Excellent story.. Your kind sounds so much like you, it's amazing. Again, school and real life getting in the way of commenting. I have been able to check for updates a few times but have sadly had no time to comment at all. From now on my commenting may be few and far between. Also, I was pretty sure I had commented on the Acid Pulaski post.. Then again, I was drunk.. I think I wrote the post then left the internet. Dumb is me. Anyway, keep up the good writing and best of luck on your enterprises into the world of fiction.

5:05 PM  
Anonymous LoB said...

Your kid

6:06 PM  
Blogger JEP said...

GMT:

The 115 hz shuffle is actually a two part dance. Second act is the screaming alpha fire.

Jasco:

You should see my son's allitertive accumen!

LoB:

Good to have you back drunk. No one should read this drivel sober!

9:17 AM  

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