There was a Saturday, probably when I was 13 or so, when my mother woke me up in the morning (it was probably about 10:30), said, “Here,” and handed me ten bucks.
“What is this for?” I asked, groggy but blissfully naive regardless of alertness.
“I sold your Thundercats toys at a yard sale,” she replied.
I bring this anecdote from my own childhood up because Miles got his first taste of such betrayal today, as Jaclyn has continued her “sweep and disposal” of items around the house that she deems unworthy or unnecessary of making the move to our new home.
Miles is young, but he’s already displaying my tendency towards anal retentiveness. Ask him where one of his toys is, and he’ll likely have an answer for you and be able to retrieve the object in question within moments. Likewise, when something isn’t where it’s supposed to be, he’s quick to point it out. You can’t pull one over on this kid.
I hadn’t even ended my workday when Jaclyn texted me to say that Miles had already noticed that his backyard slide was gone. He must have made the discovery within seconds of arriving home from daycare.
“He’s mad at me and I asked if he needed some time alone,” she wrote. “He said yes.”
“Of course he did,” I said. “You have betrayed him.” I then relayed for her the same story I shared above (NOTE: Jaclyn has heard this story MANY times before…and yet hasn’t learned the lesson?). It wasn’t the removal of the object that he was upset about, I attempted to illustrate, but the fact that he, like his father before him, was excised from the process of selling it.
Still, Miles recovered nicely. When I was able to talk to him about it, he admitted that he was “too big” for it now while also suggesting that he’d just have to get new toys after we move. I envy him. I still haven’t gotten over those Thundercats.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 