The Fit

The boy is in trouble, big trouble The boy is in epic trouble. He's in the kind of trouble that Homer will come back from the grave and create a new Odyssey out of. It will make Odysseus look like a pussy.

He is in the kind of trouble that my kids will talk about when they are 30 and married.

"Wow Bubba Hoss, remember when you got into trouble when you didn't want to get your haircut? Man, when did he let you move out of the basement?"

"Last week when I moved out of the house."

It was that kind of trouble. It was so simple to, that I don't know really why this happened. The boy was supposed to get his haircut. He didn't want a haircut. I explained that he couldn't be a hippy and that a haircut was the only cure. I explained that next he would stop bathing and talking about living off the grid. I informed him that this would not be acceptable in my house.

He said no.

I said yes.

Let the good times roll.

He started with the simple pout followed by a scream. He knows that this does not work with me. I am dad, my word is law. I'm not big on "convincing" my kids on doing what is asked of them. It's not how I parent. Probably because the one time that I defied my own father I received a belt across the legs. That was the last time I really questioned my father. I don't spank but I still don't take no very well from my children. So I picked up my son and put him in the barber's chair.

He decided to match my will with his own. He began to scream and by the time I put him on the chair, he started to kick. I have no idea why as he has gotten many haircuts before. I can only guess that somewhere in the past I have shown weakness and he is now attempting to dethrone me as Dad. Give a kid a donut before bedtime just once and now you are screwed. Constant vigilance is the only answer.

The screaming got louder and the kicking got more violent. It was crowded and I had to decide what to do. People were starting to look at me, obviously judging me. "I bet he does crack" I heard one whisper. "Oh yes, he's a crackhead. No doubt about it. Who else but a crackhead allows their child to act such a way. I bet he has weird fetishes to" her friend concurred.

Hossmom came over to help. Nothing pisses me off more. When I'm worked up I don't like Hossmom coming over to "calm" the situation, it makes me more mad. This isn't about calming anything! This is about family dominance! It's about my authority! One missed haircut now and when he's 16 he is going to be riding around on a motorcycle going to see his pregnant girlfriend in the trailer park. If he's lucky, he might get into Devry. Oh yes, there are bigger things here than a haircut.

"Hoss" hossmom said "let me....." I never let her finish the sentence. I probably should have but I was in the zone here. Hossmom is all about hugs and love. We are beyond hugs baby, way beyond hugs at the moment.

I put Bubba Hoss on the ground and grabbed his hand. "We're going to the car" I told Hossmom very calmly. Then we left the barber's shop.

"Crackhead" I could hear them all whisper.

I had Bubba Hoss by the hand and we were walking fast. The kind of fast walking where his feet are barely touching the ground. We had parked on the other side of the lot so the walk was a little way. He had taken the screaming up a notch and was trying to pull away from me. Which made things worse because now I was mad that he wasn't holding hands in the parking lot which is a big no no.

I was way beyond my emotional parenting level. I am not supposed to parent in this zone. I have taken classes at the dad convention that talk about this. Don't let your children push you past your normal zone, that's the advice. I was not heeding it now.

I was lecturing him the whole way. I'm not even sure what I was saying, I might have been talking in tongues. If someone had come by us I'm sure this looks like a kidnapping and an Amber Alert would be on the news shortly. He was screaming and kicking, I was dragging him along.

We got to the car and I put him in the carseat. I was still giving my 3 year old boy the lecture. I actually said "You will do what you are told boy!" I have no idea where that came from. The hick in my just came out. Next I'll be telling him about how to clean a chicken carcase and the greatness that is Grits. I don't know where I was going with this and I have no idea why I was even talking. He was screaming so loud that nothing was getting through.

I got into the front seat and continued. I mentioned things such as acting appropriately, about how he need to listen to his Dad, about how freedom and the American way is directly tied into doing what Dad tells him to do. I was on a roll here. I'm sure that if I could write what I said, I could use it as a motivational speech in corporations.

I stopped my lecture and took a breath. He was no longer screaming. I turned around to give him Act II of "Dad Losses it".

The boy was asleep. Fast asleep. I had put him to sleep with my lecture. Fantastic.

Game over. He wins.

Nothing I can do about it. He fell asleep and will not really remember this episode when he wakes up. I can't very well wake him up just to continue this lecture and the plethora of punishments I have in store for him. I was going to put him in his room, take away toys and tell him the truth about Santa Claus. Can't do that now.

Do that now and I just look like a dick. He won't get it, he will make no coloration between the punishments and the actions he took to get there. If I do anything now I am just being mean and that is not a good example to set for my boy.

I started to laugh because I recalled what I had said in the lecture. Something about the American Dream and the fall of communism and how he had to make a decision about which side he was on. I'm not really sure.

But I know that everything was pointless and the true reason he lost it was because he was tired. I over reacted and I knew it. And now he put me in my place, showing how irrelevant I can become.

However, the boy still needs a haircut. And I do have my clippers at home, maybe give him the old fashioned buzz cut that I still sport. Hossmom would be pretty upset. In fact, I'm betting that she would start yelling at me as soon as she saw it. Perhaps at that point I can give her a lecture and send her off to bed?