When it comes to your children, parents typically have the innate ability to overlook the most odd behaviors and features of their spawn. For example, like when you’re at the airport and you see a family waiting to board their plane to somewhere and their eight year old is digging for gold in his nose while mom and dad bicker about who has the rental car reservation information. Excavation continues until there’s safe removal of what looks to be an appendage of a small alien. Mom and dad glance over but make no mention to the kid about his actions or the examination of the solidified mucus alien arm.

Ignore.

What about ugly kids? I think you know where I'm going with this. As a parent, you have to find beauty in your kid. Lazy eye, gimp, bald, or a pumpkin head, we love them the same. But others don't have the same compassion.

I’m not saying I’m any of the above because I'm not. In fact, I may be worse than those that are oblivious to the goings on with their children. I actually acknowledge the behavior and then write about here for the world to read and have a giant collective internet chuckle.

That leads me to Son #2.

He doesn't get a lot of coverage on the blog. Is it because he’s less interesting than Son #1? No. I've always thought he was a very interesting kid but his attitude sucks. Is it because he’s an unattractive little monster with tendency toward nose picking? Sort of. He’s a good looking kid which is the reason for all of his modeling call backs. But the kid’s right index finger is always lodged firmly into his right nostril.


The reason for the lack of pixilated attention is a direct correlation to the attention he demands. You spend most of your time getting him snacks and milk. The kid can eat and scream when he is unhappy. After you're done tending to his sustenance needs to satisfy his ridiculously loud temper tantrums, you're often done with him. The cuteness has worn off and writing about him is the last thing on your mind. In fact, it's an adult-type drink for you and a closet and muzzle for him.


I love Son #2 and his penchant for eating (or not eating) and talking back during the same session. I don't know many kids that dislike the tastiness of grilled cheese and/or peanut butter sandwiches but Son #2 is one of those rarities. Any time you make him a sandwich for a meal, you get some sort of sass talk in his temper-driven at times incomprehensible language. The funny thing is that when he’s pissed off about being served a meal he has no interest in consuming; he’ll repeat exactly what you say to him as it is some point of emphasis.

Me: "Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich?"
Him: "No grilled cheese sandwich!"
Me: "Eat your dinner."
Him: "No eat your dinner!"
Me: “It’s time for a nap!”
Him: “No time for a nap!”
Me: "Do you want a time out for talking to me like that?"
Him: "No time out for talking to me like that?
Me: “Do you need to be beaten?”
Him: “No need to be beaten!”
Me: “I’m going to sell you to the gypsies!”
Him: “No sell you to the gypsies!”
Me: "That's it!"
Him: "No that's it!"

Eventually, he gets hungry enough that even the coldest and soggiest of grilled cheese is tasty and consumed. The dialogue above isn’t the behavior that I ignore or turn a blind eye toward. In fact, I love this about him. He’s like my own little angry parrot. The behavioral topic to discuss here is his creative method of eating sandwiches.

He’s all about eating the business end of sandwiches, no matter what type. I just don't get it. While most kids would only eat the soft fluffy goodness of bread and the sandwich innards, Son #2 prefers the roughness of the crusty edges. It doesn't matter what kind of sandwich it is, what type of bread it is, or how stale or rotten it is, he’ll motor around the periphery of the sandwich like a little typewriter gnawing off the toasted edges of the grilled cheese sandwich or the dripping jelly saturated crust of a PB&J. It’s just counterintuitive to being a little boy.


Reflecting back on my days as young boy, I can recall being nagged by my parents, family members, and friends to eat the crust off my sandwich. If you want to grow up and be a strong football player, you need to eat the crust, I was always being told. Unbeknownst to them all, I didn't care about being a big strong football player. I just want the middle goodness of my sandwich and my potato chips. Spare me the ‘eat your veggies and the crust on your sandwich so I can grow up and be healthy' urban legends and old wives’ tales. The crust is good for dogs and people that listen to their parents. Not me.


So maybe that's my karma here. Son #2 won't eat the fluffy bread no matter what the threat is. He’s strangely defiant in his obsession with doing things his own way. Who am I to judge him over his blatant disregard for my advice? After all, it’s a sandwich eater’s freedom of choice how he or she consumes a sandwich. It's a funny sight though to watch him eat the edges and only the edges. The carnage left over looks mealy and gnawed on by a rat dog. And just like my crust from years ago, his scraps are suitable enough for our pups.