Holy Flaming Dirtbikes, Batboy!
*Update* One never knows who might end up reading your blog. In this case, the mom of the little boy written abput here ended up reading my blog and eventually this post. Reading it again, I can imagine how mortifying this was for her, and how brave it was to tell me she had read it. As a result, I am changing some of the details of this story to protect her amd her family's anonymity. Lesson learned here, we cannot fathom the things other families may be going through and I personally need to be more charitable in my assessment of other people and their parenting. There, but for the Grace of God, go I!
I've posted before, our new neighborhood is full of large families and I have a hard time keeping track of our kids. We established a rule especially for Lil' Wingnut, who found this new freedom a little too liberating. They now need to tell me whose home they are playing at and if they change locations they have to come home and tell me. Lil' Wingnut is allowed to play at the homes of about 5 different families, but I try to insist that they keep their play to outside, as TV and video gaming are all too available in other homes and too much of a temptation for Lil' Wingnut.
One of our neighbors has a sweet little boy, the youngest of several siblings. His parents, seemingly do not monitor too closely this boy's viewing and gaming opportunities and so it has been a rule that Lil' Wingnut is only allowed to play outside with this particular little boy and is not allowed inside said boy's house without asking us first.
One afternoon I had the opportunity to nap along with Lil' Lamb and so I did not have personal positive control over the children's movements. After sleeping for two hours I awoke to a very quiet house. I asked the JayP where everyone was, and he listed the whereabouts of each sibling ending with Lil' Wingnut being over at this particular neighbor's home. Apparently he had told one of his older siblings where he was going and they gave their unauthorized consent. I sent a sister after the boy and he came dragging his tail behind him.
"What were you doing at "this boy's" house?" I asked.
"I was just talking to him."
"Ok, what was he doing?"
"Watching TV."
"I thought I told you that you could only play outside with him."
"I tried to get him to come out, but he didn't want to. He wanted to watch his show."
"What show was he watching?"
Then the real evasion game began. Our lil' guy could not recall what his friend was watching as he paid absolutely no attention to the TV as he was too busy talking to his friend, although he could not recall a single aspect of this intense two hour conversation. I knew the boy was lying and I was getting angrier by the minute and beginning to make threats. When the threat to call Dad was made the kid began to sing like a canary.
"It was a really bad show!" He began to cry.
"How was it bad? Did they use bad language?"
"No. They spoke English!" he wailed, "It was about a guy that rode around on a dirt bike. It was really bad! The dirt bike caught on fire!"
Since the boy could not recall the title of the show I did a quick internet search for "dirt bike show" and began running down the list to see if I could jog his memory and get to the bottom of it all.
"Was it American Chopper?"
"No."
"American Thunder?"
"No."
"Biker Build-off? Feasting on Asphalt? Legends of Motorsport? Sons of Anarchy? Dirtbike Rider?"
"No. No. No. No. Wait! I think I remember. It was Ghost Rider!"
To confirm, I showed him the movie poster. Indeed, our sweet lil' guy had just watched the entire PG-13, violent and profanity laced Nicholas Cage film.
To say the least, the rule is now he must come to me and only to me before he's allowed to even play with This friend at all. Unfortunate, but very necessary!
I've posted before, our new neighborhood is full of large families and I have a hard time keeping track of our kids. We established a rule especially for Lil' Wingnut, who found this new freedom a little too liberating. They now need to tell me whose home they are playing at and if they change locations they have to come home and tell me. Lil' Wingnut is allowed to play at the homes of about 5 different families, but I try to insist that they keep their play to outside, as TV and video gaming are all too available in other homes and too much of a temptation for Lil' Wingnut.
One of our neighbors has a sweet little boy, the youngest of several siblings. His parents, seemingly do not monitor too closely this boy's viewing and gaming opportunities and so it has been a rule that Lil' Wingnut is only allowed to play outside with this particular little boy and is not allowed inside said boy's house without asking us first.
One afternoon I had the opportunity to nap along with Lil' Lamb and so I did not have personal positive control over the children's movements. After sleeping for two hours I awoke to a very quiet house. I asked the JayP where everyone was, and he listed the whereabouts of each sibling ending with Lil' Wingnut being over at this particular neighbor's home. Apparently he had told one of his older siblings where he was going and they gave their unauthorized consent. I sent a sister after the boy and he came dragging his tail behind him.
"What were you doing at "this boy's" house?" I asked.
"I was just talking to him."
"Ok, what was he doing?"
"Watching TV."
"I thought I told you that you could only play outside with him."
"I tried to get him to come out, but he didn't want to. He wanted to watch his show."
"What show was he watching?"
Then the real evasion game began. Our lil' guy could not recall what his friend was watching as he paid absolutely no attention to the TV as he was too busy talking to his friend, although he could not recall a single aspect of this intense two hour conversation. I knew the boy was lying and I was getting angrier by the minute and beginning to make threats. When the threat to call Dad was made the kid began to sing like a canary.
"It was a really bad show!" He began to cry.
"How was it bad? Did they use bad language?"
"No. They spoke English!" he wailed, "It was about a guy that rode around on a dirt bike. It was really bad! The dirt bike caught on fire!"
Since the boy could not recall the title of the show I did a quick internet search for "dirt bike show" and began running down the list to see if I could jog his memory and get to the bottom of it all.
"Was it American Chopper?"
"No."
"American Thunder?"
"No."
"Biker Build-off? Feasting on Asphalt? Legends of Motorsport? Sons of Anarchy? Dirtbike Rider?"
"No. No. No. No. Wait! I think I remember. It was Ghost Rider!"
To confirm, I showed him the movie poster. Indeed, our sweet lil' guy had just watched the entire PG-13, violent and profanity laced Nicholas Cage film.
To say the least, the rule is now he must come to me and only to me before he's allowed to even play with This friend at all. Unfortunate, but very necessary!
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