Brainwashed

Not too long ago, I had a very strange conversation, with my ex-wife. Our conversations are always strange, but this one was way, way out there. Medusa (my ex), informed me that I would no longer be able to have private telephone conversations with the boys and that all future conversations with them would be monitored by her, because she was convinced and consumed by the notion that I was brainwashing the boys and turning them against her. To say that I had a “WTF?” moment, would be putting it mildly. Gathering my wits (what little I have; no worries, it didn’t take long); I calmly told her that I always defended her and her decisions, when it came to the boys. I told her that what she proposed was unacceptable and that she certainly didn’t need any help from me, to make her look like a jackass; she was doing a fine job, all by herself. As I’m sure you can imagine, that didn’t go over too well and she exploded. Oops.

Allow me to back up here, for just a moment. When the boys and I are together, or when we speak on the phone, their mother is not allowed to intrude on our time together. She and I lead completely separate lives and I want to keep it that way. The rare times that she does come up in conversation, it’s usually because the boys are bitching about her and I find myself defending her, often to my chagrin.

Recently, while driving back home after picking up the boys, the older two brought up the subject of brainwashing and what their mother had said about it. They explained that she had told them of her concerns and that they informed her that we do not talk about her and that I am not trying to turn them against their mother. She didn’t believe them, either. It’s a vast conspiracy, don’t you know? By the way, I also killed the Kennedys, eat kittens for breakfast and know that Jimmy Hoffa will always be a founding cornerstone of the Meadowlands Arena. Did I also mention that I buried Paul? Oh, cranberry sauce. Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name. Tangents. I need to stop that.

Every now and then, a moment comes along that can define you as a father. Take that opportunity and use it as a learning experience; do it, for the kids.

The boys asked me what brainwashing was and asked me to explain how it’s done, so I outlined the simple method that I like to use. I started to explain the procedure quite thoroughly to them.  As soon as they were asleep, I would take a pair of forceps and…

“Dad, what are forceps?” they wanted to know.

“I’m glad you asked,” I replied. “They’re like giant tweezers.”

I further explained how I would shove the forceps up their noses and pull their brains out through the nasal cavity, as if I were extracting a giant, slimy booger. This was met with massive giggling from the peanut gallery. Once their brains were removed, I would rinse them off and pat them dry, before using a little Spray & Wash to get rid of any stains and dirty thoughts.

More giggles.

“What happens next?” the medium one asked.

“Well, that’s when I toss them in the washing machine; add a little Tide and a little bleach. Oh, and always be sure to wash them on the gentle cycle,” I advised, “Brains are very delicate and you don’t want to damage them. Next thing you know, your brains are squeaky clean. I hope. Also, it’s very important not to put them in the dryer, as they will shrink and you guys can’t afford to let that happen; they’re already small enough.”

“But how do you get our brains back inside of our heads when you’re done,” the oldest asked.

“Well, you see, that’s the part of the problem that I haven’t quite figured out, yet. You boys haven’t had a brain in your heads since Christmas, but don’t worry. I didn’t want to lose them, so I shoved them up your butts. Basically, you guys have had your heads shoved up your ass, since December.”

The car erupted in laughter. Love, giggles and laughter; our typical time together, that’s what it’s all about.