Tiny Faces = Germ Warfare

As I write this I am sick and have been sick for the past three days. In the time that I have lived in my current residence I have been sick on and off almost every other week. The sickness spans the map from runny nose to don’t go into the bathroom right now. I have been to the doc as many times as I need to and in most cases I am told it is just a cold or a bug. After this last sickness I have come to a dramatic conclusion; tiny faces are also tiny biological weapons factories. Any parent at this point would comment on how this is a known fact. I however see a more devious design in the works. Let me take you on a semi-science faulty logic understanding of why kids get you sick. Take some time now to get a pen and paper because you are going to want to take notes. Okay, got your pen? Got your paper? Good, good now on to a wonderful journey of discovery and understanding. 

So, kids get sick all the time. This I feel is due to the concept of shared spaces. Kids share the space of everyone around them. They cling and are carried. They are cleaned, and they are wiped. All the time sharing the spaces of every adult around them. Add to this the shared space of other kids if they have siblings or if they attend daycare or school. Everywhere they go, every place they are is shared with other beings. Now take that tiny face and give them a simple cold. That cold now goes with them into every instance of shared space. The germs that are causing the cold have been given a free pass to ride a fleshy monorail. They are carried over on the good ship gooey snot. They take their first steps in slow motion on the crater laden faces of teenage babysitters and siblings. They register their entry at the Elis Island of adult hands patting on backs and holding tissues. All the while the tiny faces continue to feel sick and literally make those around them sick. It is a vicious cycle of renew, rinse, and repeat. Though anyone would say it is just the order or things, or it is just nature. I say, “oh hell no!” 

To me I see a master plan of command and conquer going on. Think about it. What does a tiny face require? They need someone to provide them with food. They need someone to give them a warm place to sleep. They need someone to bend to every whine and request because their tiny forms are unable to reach things high on the counter. They need someone to pay for things like juice or cookies. They just need someone to tell them they are the best and the cutest kid in the whole world. They just need a larger set of hands and feet to get them what they want.  Here is the connection, how best to tame and control a larger member of the species then to weaken them with biological warfare? Think of it in relative terms of survival. A pony is born and within a few minutes after it stands up and starts to walk. A human child slides out and has to be made aware that breathing now requires effort. A baby shark emerges from the purse swims off and begins to seek out food. A human child is born and then has to be held in place to suckle at its mother’s breast. A baby spider is born with the knowledge of how to build a web to catch food. They also eat their mothers. A newborn human child is not even able to tie their own shoes let alone catch anything. Seriously, how have we become the dominant species on the plant? After this sickness I feel that I have an answer. Children intentionally get sick so that they can get us sick so that we are unable as adults to deny them their survival. It is a true master work of evolution and genius. We get sick because they are sick and end up saying it is nothing more than them building immunities. I blame science for not seeing this sooner. 

The shear mastery of the plan these germ factories have come up with is astounding. We are adult and we know best. We tell them this on a daily basis. They try to touch a hot stove we remind them it is hot and we know better. They say they only want to eat candy and we make them eat something else because we know better. We even tuck them in at night saying they need sleep. Then we go back to watching TV because we want alone time and of course we know better. So, in an effort to subjugate the subjugators they bring us down to their level with a simple sneeze. All of a sudden we are on our knees with a tissue and a thermometer. That is when they have us right where they want us. We tend to every whim they have because they are sick. That is a good thing because they are kids and we need to take care of them. If your kid is sick and you push them aside for a football game then you and I need to have a face to face conversation. The point I am making is that it is not their sickness that breaks us, it is when we get sick that they have us. 

We get sick and they get better. They know this is what will happen and so it is okay. The problem is that when we are sick, like them, we whim and moan about being sick. Kids know that when Mom and Dad are like this they will not be able to say no for very long. We may get frustrated or we may yell but we always give in because we just want to rest. They ask us for some food and we give it to them. They want something else to eat and we give it to them. They just want some chocolate milk and candy so we give it to them. All the while we are buried in snot rags and dirty diapers. The kid pushes and pushes just enough to make sure that Mom and/or Dad will give in, never enough to really get them upset. But they do enough to make sure that we stay sick as long as they need us to be sick. It is a maddening endeavor for both parties but only works out for one in the end. The germ factories keep making germs so that they can wear us down to survive. Oh, I am sure that parents out there are saying, “No it is about caring for your kids, and loving, and stuff.” Fair enough I love kids and I am sure that you do as well. The question is how many times in the last year did you get sick? How many of those times were your kids first? And how many times during that sickness did you give in and let the tiny faces run rampant across the homestead like they owned the place? If I had to guess I would say that your answers are lots, yes, and all the time. AH HA! You see the tiny faces are using germ warfare to keep up down so that they can survive this harsh world. Nature planned this they just enact it. It’s a mad world, a mad, mad world.

In all honesty I am sick because the tiny faces in the house are sick. It is a way of life for parents and adults that tend to the livelihoods of kids. Talk to any daycare worker and they will confirm that they get sick all the time because of the kids. I worked in childcare for close to elven years and told every employee I managed to expect to be sick for the first month you work here. It is honestly a way of life. We as adult try out best not to get kids sick. They are tiny and do not deal well with being sick. Not to say that as large adults we do any better, but it is a close second at times. It is funny that we go out of our ways to not get kids sick, but they do everything they can to whip all the boogers on us. A runny nose is a reason to wear a green shirt when it comes to sick kids and their parental care takers. We get sick, we deal, and we make sure not to cough into the shoulder that is burping the baby. It is a way of life. Though I am pretty sure it is more of a master plan. An evil, evil master plan. 

Random Arguments with a Toddler

Here is this week’s Random Arguments with a Toddler: 

“So, what do you want to eat? Do you want a burrito or a taco?” said I waiting to order our food.

“I want a burrito,” said Tiny Face sitting in the back of the truck.

“Okay then I will get you a burrito,” I replied.

“Annnd, I want a blue drink,” said Tiny Face. A gleeful look of excitement pressed evenly across his face.

“What blue drink?” I asked expecting a clear answer but really hoping for just a simple clue to drink brand, type, or name.

“You know the blue drink, I want a blue drink,” Tiny Face answered now more stern rather than excited. His brow furrowed slightly as if I was the three year old and he was the adult who should know everything ever.

“Stinky, I don’t know what the blue drink is. What blue drink and what is its name?” I asked.

“The blue drink right there,” he said pointing out the side window.

I turned and looked but saw no blue drink, just the sign listing this month’s promotional menu items. “Um, I don’t think they have a blue drink here.”

His small mouth turned downward making a very definitive frown. He squinted his eyes at me to show that he was angry with me. He growled a little in the back of his throat before he spoke, “THEY DO, THEY HAVE THE BLUE DRINK, I WANT THE BLUE DRINK!”

“TINY FACE! There is no need to yell, I am just telling you I don’t see a blue drink and I don’t think they have a blue drink,” I explained holding back frustration. The car in front of us drove past the speaker on the menu. I turned away from the child and proceeded to pull forward.

“Hi, what would you like today?” said the voice from the speaker box.

“Hi, can I have three burritos and three tacos…”

“I WANT A BLUE DRINK!”

“I’m sorry, I did not hear that. What would you like again?” asked the speaker box voice.

“Tiny Face SHHHHH,” I pleaded. “Sorry, sorry I would like three burritos and three tacos please.”

“Uncle Jeff, blue drink, blue drink, blue drink!” said Tiny Face in a very big voice. The words BLUE DRINK continued until I had confirmed our order and driven past the speaker. The continued echoes I’m sure were being heard several cars away. I expected a pedestrian to walk up and tell me to just get a damn blue drink already.

“Stinky, I told you there is no blue drink. I got you a milk is that okay?” I asked knowing full well it was not going to be okay.

     “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” repeated the Tiny Face. His hand jutted forward with on finger pointed at my face. His skill was impressive but luckily he does not know magic. Should he have the gift I am sure my ashes would have been long strew across an empty parking lot by now.

       I acted quickly to try and rally my nerves and keep the child entertained enough to forget the blue drink. I looked back across the seat into his tiny eyes and said, “WATER! WATER! WATER!” Again, it was good that neither of us know magic or there would be one less fast food restaurant and a huge spike in the Ark market. It was on, on like a donkey named Kong.

“DINOSAUR!”

“COW!”

“PICKLE!”

“SANDWICH!”

“LIGHTING BLOT!”

“Blocked! Your socks are now chickens.”

“My socks are chickens?” he questioned in amazement. “The car is a chicken!”

“Oh NO, we’re driving a giant chicken! AHHHHH, CHICKENS!” I yelled imagining the horrible mess it would have been to be inside a giant chicken.

“Ha ha ha, you’re funny. That’s funny,” he said with a smile returning to his tiny face.

“Excused me, um here is your food,” a voice next to me said.

“Oh, thanks. Here is your money.”

“Uncle Jeff, blue drink please,” said Tiny Face.

“I told you they don’t have a blue drink…”

“Yes we do, it is right here,” said the employee while handing me our food. “Would you like to add one to your order?”

“YAY!” came a joyous high pitched voice.

         I had been defeated.  My argument flayed out before me like so much sand in a wind storm. How the Tiny Face had known about the drink or even had remembered which restaurant it was located was astounding. He had known all along that they had a blue drink. He could not name it or even really describe it, yet he had known.

“Gods dammit,” I said into the vast logic of my mind. “Okay, go ahead and add it please.”

“YAY!”

      The employee handed over what looked like a heavily sugared ICEE. I could smell the future 10 minutes from now wafting off the concoction. High pitched screaming blurring through rooms. Heavy hastened footfalls leaving flame trails as if they had just hit 88 miles per hour. It would be madness, chaotic madness. But wait, I was not the child’s parent. I am the Uncle. I could easily make an escape downstairs after handing off the food and child to his parents.

“MUAHAHAHA!” I thought as I paid for the food and the drink. “Here you go Tiny, enjoy.” 

“YAY!” he said.

“Who is the best Uncle in the whole world?” I asked.

“UNCLE JEFF!”

Yay, that’s how you win an argument with a toddler. Sugar them up, and hand them back to their parents.

Shooting Ducks

After reading the title you might have thought this post was about hunting or maybe an analysis of the shows to watch with kids. If that is indeed what you thought then you are wrong, and you should feel bad about that. It’s okay I’ll wait…

Okay now on to the matter at hand, which is not hunting, but video game play with kids. One of my young nephews lives in the same house that I currently reside in. Every once and awhile he asks if he can come downstairs to hang out with me. A good deal of the time we end up watching Bubble Guppies or Paw Patrol. I know all the characters and have issues with a 10 year old boy running an entire city’s emergency services with a bunch of talking dogs. I will cover that logical concern in a later post. However when I am already playing a video game the resident Tiny Face will want to play along. As a good deal of gamer parents will tell you it is very hard to play a video game with a Tiny Face. They want to help out and play along. When my nephew first asked to play video games with me I handed him a controller without a connection or batteries. He took it and started to hit the buttons, then proceeded to complain about nothing happening. Kid is a little too smart for his own good.
After a few tries I figured out that he was okay playing the video game if he thought he was doing the silly stuff. For instance driving cars. He found it hilarious if he was causing the car to crash into buildings or knocking over light poles. (Note here: most games have codes or controls to make sure there are no people walking around the cities, so no need to explain why that person just flew fifteen feet in the air.)He also enjoyed controlling the bridges so we could see how far we could jump across them. Hours on end the conversation would go like this.
“Drive the red car,” said Tiny Face

“This red car, or the red truck?” I would answer.
“The red truck, go get it, drive it,” he would yell.
“Okay, here we go,” I would say as I got into the truck. We would drive around for a while hitting buildings and other cars. Then he would get bored or see another car or another color. Likely he would get bored and this would happen.
“BRIDGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEE! JUMP IT! JUMP IT! JUMP IT NOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!” he would yell, on average no more than an inch from my ear.
We would of course jump the bridge, then jump it again, and then a hundred times more. The issue would eventually become the time spent entertaining my nephew in lieu of progressing through the game itself. How much time do I spend jumping the same bridge verse just doing the next mission in the game? For this type of situation I came up with a creative answer; play a different game.
Farcry 3 and Farcry 4 produced by Ubisoft, are two great games with a big open world rich with beautiful scenes capes, animals, and story. But both games are rated M or mature because of the blood and gore as well as graphic language. Funny thing is in these two games you can go and hunt animals to either make money, or advance your character’s defense and skills. I can hear parents yelling at the screen right now, “BUT YOU ARE KILLING THINGS!” Yes, I get that and I understand there are concerns. Though why do you have to say they are dead, why not say they are asleep?

     For example in Farcry 3, there are emus which honestly are pretty nasty birds. My nephew did not understand emu so he called them ducks. So, when I would go out and hunt emus I was shooting ducks. When I shot them it was because I wanted to get their candy, and they did not die they just fell asleep due to eating too much candy. I was helping them stay awake by taking their candy. On the converse when the ducks punched me I too had eaten a large quantity of candy causing me to fall asleep. Hence the title of this post “Shooting Ducks”, which was what Tiny Face and I would do roaming the wide expanses of Far Cry 3. It was much the same with Farcry 4, though there were now both cars to drive and elephants to ride. All the while we would punch an animal and they would go to sleep so we could take their candy. It helped a lot that once you find one animal there is another in that area a good deal of the time. If one bear “goes to sleep” another one in the area would show up. To my nephew it is the same bear who has woken and now is upset that we took its candy. No killing, just animals falling asleep and us taking their candy. There are people in the games but it I easy enough to avoid them.
   

Also it was funny to interject myself freaking out when the animals would come after us to make it less intense for the kiddo. Saying things like, “it’s going to bite our butts.” Yes, seems odd to say butts, but for a three year old it is funny and distracts from the idea that the animal is about to maul us and most likely feast upon our corpse. It is also really funny to hear a three year yelling about butts.
Now traditional parent concerns aside there are plenty of games to play with younger kids that do not need as much sleight of hand. Games like Minecraft by Mojang. A wonderfully creative game now available on all gaming consoles. My nephew does not play Minecraft with me but does play it very often with his Dad. He especially loves

the animals and chasing them around. The simple nature of the game allows for easy progression between toddler requested activities. Though there are no cars and that is a huge no-no for my nephew. Every game must have cars, no exceptions.
Finally, some of the best games to play with kids are the classic games being re-mastered for newer systems. Recently my nephew and I spent three days hanging out with each other waiting for his parents to return home with his baby brother. Three days is far too long to watch the same episodes of shows over and over. So, I put on a game I had downloaded called Oddworld: Abe’s Oddysee by GT interactive. This game is an older side scrolling game featuring Abe, a green funny looking alien trying to free his people. In the game there are plenty of explosions and places to fall down. These two factors were funny to my nephew because I feigned frustration as if he has made me fall and/or explode when he hit buttons on his controller. It was also great to replay a game I had as a kid with my nephew for the first time. A shared experience of enjoyment across two generations.

The best part was a feature on the loading screen where you can test Abe’s ability to talk and make noises. My nephew found this to be hilarious because Abe was talking to him sayings things like hello, follow me, and of course farting. Tiny face would repeat after Abe, whistle at him, and make farting noises. Seems pretty simple and dumb, but really it ate up a bunch of time and was a good distraction while his parents were away. Tiny face would even get mad when Abe would not talk back to him and really there is nothing better than a three year old arguing with a video game character. Imagination kids, imagination.
All and all if you are a parent or a relative and are also a gamer then there is no reason you should argue over gaming and kids. Find a way to make the game fun to watch and interact with for your kids. Give them an old controller and have them drive the cars bumping into walls. Or find a way for them to laugh at your folly while you are still progressing through the game. They will enjoy it and hopefully ask to do it again. Gamers for life are not born, they are bred, play on.

An Uncle by Association

The year is 2009 and everything seems to be on track. Work is still paying me for surfing the internet. My PS3, PSP, and Gameboy 2D keep my critical thinking and hand eye coordination skills honed to a fine point. My comic book collection is growing as I incorporate a larger number of trade backs and graphic novels. I live in the ultimate bachelor pad with two friends who are like brothers. Every meal follows the man food categories of frozen, cereal, sandwich, meat, and sugar. The monthly runs to Costco fills our carts and bellies with a combination of corndogs and peanut butter. The coffee flows freely and there is no waking up before noon on the weekends (honest to gods rule). We never split the party and we always go left when exploring. Booze was a plenty and A**holes dealt while wearing funny hats. Things were good. Things were consistent. Things were about to change.
        It was a sudden pocket outbreak of what I am going to refer to as “selective hugging”. As I am writing this it is hard to describe the hand gestures I make when I say “selective hugging” but I am sure you get the idea. So, what came of this outbreak? The only logical thing; babies. This selective hugging outbreak would spread from home to home over the next five years.
Now, as I sit writing this I have the honor and the privilege of being called Uncle by seven tiny faces. Not literally, as at least four of them are unable to speak and if their first word was “uncle” than I am not using nearly enough cuss words. Moving on, I am happy to be called Uncle, the issue is explaining what that means to others. Someone at works says, ‘hey do you have kids?” I said, “not that I am aware of but I do have nephews and a nieces by association.” Normally I get a look which is a cross between confusion and pity. Image if you will the look a dog might give you if you fell face first while making them beg for bacon. They are confused because of the word association. They seem to pity me that I either don’t know what Uncle means or am sad and lonely. They also might just be jerks give me crap. Whichever it is I give them the following description:

“I have a lot of friends who are what I call my collected family. Brothers and sisters that I found throughout my journey. These friends are as close to me as blood can get. They stand with me as I stand with them. Their woes are my own. And when these family members could no longer contain the ticking of their biological clocks they had babies. Those babies, being the progeny of my brothers and sisters are not my blood but are my family by association. Hence these “tiny faces’ are my associated nieces and nephews. “

“Oh cool. How does that work?” is normally the question I get asked next. I get asked that question a lot because I am sure a good deal of people don’t come across the term often. Though it is hard to image with the considerable change in the definition of family. We as a society are to a point where we are removing the “non-traditional” from regularly held conversations about family. That to me is great because nothing in my idea of family is traditional.
Here on this blog I will be covering the adventures/ terminology/ craziness/ philosophy of what it means to be an Uncle by Association. I will be posting random conversations with toddlers. Why kid shows today help imagination but defy the logic I call my own. My thoughts on what parents need to do compared to what I really know about parenting. As well random posts containing the madness and wonderful existence that is my uncle hood. I am hoping to have a post at least twice a week depending on the requirements of daily life. If you have questions or suggestions leave them in the comments and I will address them as best I can in a timely manner.
Thank you everyone for reading. Most of all thank you to those family members that have given me the glory and understanding of my title. I apologies in advance.