Killer Clowns Are Not Happy Things

It has come to my attention that my 8 month old son’s room is not a “happy” room. Before this, I didn’t even know that rooms could have emotions. But, apparently, this particular room is not happy.

My son, Max, only occasionally sleeps in his actual room. My wife seems to think that this is because the only time he ever goes in his room is to go to sleep. So, this means that the room is not “happy,” and he does not like to be in there. Now, I’m 39, and nobody seems particularly interested that not much, shall we say, “happy” stuff goes on in my bedroom, and I’m expected to suck it up, and sleep in there. Yet, I’m having to go to great lengths to make sure that his room is “happy.” That doesn’t seem fair. But, such is my life.

So, I’m spending a greater than average amount of my day trying to figure out exactly what makes an 8 month old happy. Since he can’t talk, this means that my wife and I having to try and find a common ground as to what WE think will make HIM happy. This means that I am suggesting things and my wife is ignoring me, and will do whatever she wants to, anyway. I think they call this a “communicative marriage.” But, I’m not sure. I stopped listening.

Either way, my boy needs a “happy” room. So, a “happy” room he shall have.

First Challenge: What makes Max happy?

Answer: Pulling cat tails.

We have two “Kitties from Hell.” Mike and Stuart, are their earth names. I’m assuming that the Dark Lord has given them different names, for the underworld. But, here, they’re Mike and Stuart. He gets VERY excited whenever the demon cats come in the room. He shakes, and kicks, and screams, and laughs. It’s pretty cute. But, the cutest thing he does, and it may only be cute because I don’t particularly care for either one of my cats, is pull their tails. Hard. This causes the cats to do that loud, creepy, cat scream that they do.

See?

Cute, right?

It gets better.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been around a baby. But, babies are unusually strong. They can’t life cars, or anything like that. But, every baby I’ve ever come into contact with has possessed an iron vice, G.I. Joe, kung-fu-like death grip which CANNOT be broken. So, when he grabs the cat’s tail, and the cat screams, this goes on for a little while because Max is laughing, the cat is screaming, and I’m too busy looking for the video camera to stop it.

“America’s Funniest Home Videos,” here I come!!!

Solution: Hang several cat tails from his ceiling, low enough for him to reach, and pipe in the soothing sounds of screaming cats.

I can sense the boy getting happier, already.

Second Challenge: What ELSE makes Max happy?

Answer: I’m glad you asked. Why, it’s eating paper, of course.

Fine. My boy eats paper. I’m not proud of it. But, I love him, and I’m not going to judge him. Years from now, when he brings his family over to the house for Thanksgiving, we’ll have turkey for everyone else, and a ream of copier paper for Max to dig into.

I’m also not convinced that this is not normal. I’ve never met a baby who DIDN’T eat paper. They eat all kinds of paper, too. If babies could talk I would ask them if there was a different flavor to different kinds of paper. Did magazine paper taste better than plain paper, because of the pictures? What about wax paper? It seems kind of slick. Does it go down easier? Things like that.

Honestly, I don’t know why anybody bothers with actual baby food, at all. I think it exists just to make parents feel good about themselves. If you provided your average baby with a steady supply of paper, carpet fiber, cat hair, and kibble out of various pet bowls, I think they would do fine. Heck, many of them already do.

If Gerber could find a way to make a baby food that tasted like paper, and cat hair, they wouldn’t be able to keep the stuff on the shelves.

Solution: Buy a paper shredder (what child’s room is complete without one), and spread little bits of paper out, all over the floor.

Are you getting the picture now? Cat tails hanging from the ceiling, screaming cat noises piped in, and delicious paper spread out all over the floor. This is really starting to come together as kind of a “baby paradise.” The corporate boardrooms would have you believe that kids want candy, and balloons, and clowns. But, all they want is your money. Real parents know what real kids want. Paper, and cat tails.

Clowns?

Clowns will kill you. Don’t you EVER watch horror movies? Clowns are killing people all over the place, in horror movies. Have you ever seen a movie about possessed pieces of paper, causing havoc in a small, isolated, college town, stocked with coeds who didn’t have time to change out of their lingerie, and will have sexual relations with any random guy who comes to town?

No. No, you haven’t. It doesn’t exist. I know. I googled it.

So, you can go ahead and put clowns in your kid’s room, and give them horrible nightmares. I’m putting paper in my boy’s room. Who REALLY is the bad parent, here? Exactly.

Third Challenge: Could there possibly be anything else that makes Max happy?

Answer: Yes. My wife. She has to make only one man happy, and she picked my son.

My wife holds him, and feeds him, and bathes him, and puts clothes on him. She sings to him, and reads to him, and has a generally sunnier disposition that I do.
So, while he likes it when daddy juggles, and talks funny, and falls down, and tickles him, he thinks that mommy hung the moon. I’m just a stop gap, for when mommy is not around.

I try. But, I come up short.

I hold him. But, he squirms, and laughs, and tries to flip over, and out of my hands.

I feed him. But, most of it ends up in his nose, and ears. Funny? Yes. Nutritional? Not really, no.

I have bathed him. But, I put too much water in his little tub, and he likes to splash. I also made the mistake of doing it on the counter, where we keep the mail. So, the kid kept splashing, and the bills got all wet, and we had to make a few phone calls to find out what we owed a few people. So, now I’m only allowed to bathe him if someone else is watching. Usually, my 8 year old daughter. It’s a little humiliating.

I put clothes on him. But, if you’ve ever seen the way I dress MYSELF, this usually doesn’t go over too well. My wife used to “accidently” spill something on him, whenever I dressed him. Now, we don’t go through that formality anymore. She just says it’s ugly, and takes it off of him.

I also don’t sing, because I can’t, and it makes people cry.

So, in my son’s mind, the pecking order in the house goes like this:

My wife

My daughter

The cats

The dogs

Strangers that come in, with masks on their faces

Me

Solution: Have my wife go sleep in my son’s room, with him.

Sadly, this will not cause any sort of decrease in my sex life, whatsoever. And, on the plus side, I’ll finally get to control the TV in my bedroom. I think that, in the business world, they call this a win-win.

Let’s recap.

A happy baby’s room consists of the following things:

Cat tails

Screaming cat noises

Delectable paper bits

Mom

Now, go forth and make your children’s room a “happy” place.

And, for the love of God, stay away from the clowns.

Casey