I took my family to an arboretum today. I realize, of course, that in this technological age the concept of a botanical garden devoted to trees seems a bit quaint, but it was pretty cool even if I couldn’t find the Like button, and for some reason there was no porn. And my two boys, five and three, absolutely loved it because it allowed them to do what boys that age do best: Fuck shit up.
We weren’t there five minutes before my five year old was off the path and stomping on a bush. “Hey! What are you doing?!?” I asked. And of course he looked at me with an absolutely puzzled look on his face. “What?” Not only did he have no concept that destroying plants in a place that charges admission to look at said plants might not be appreciated, but he was puzzled as to why no one else but his brother shared his enthusiasm for destroying living things. So I explained to him how important is is to preserve nature, and that this was a place of beauty, and…
Me: I’m in the middle of talking to you about leaving the plants alone and you reach out and strip the leaves off of a branch!
Son: No I didn’t.
Me: Yes you did and… THERE YOU JUST DID IT AGAIN!
Son: No I didn’t!
Me: YES YOU DID! LOOK AT ALL OF THE LEAVES IN YOUR HAND!
My three year old, meanwhile, took it upon himself to taunt plants. He’d run up to a cactus and say, “Nyyyyaaaahhhh nyyyaaaahh!” and run away, laughing hysterically. It was as if he was saying, “Ha ha, you motionless motherfucker. Look what I can do!” So we’d have elderly couples, there to appreciate a beautiful 65 degree day by walking through a serene desert garden, and they’d turn the corner and be confronted with a weed-whacker in Keds and a kid giving attitude to shrubbery, all at 140 decibels.
Meanwhile, my eleven year old daughter had shrewdly decided that the best way to get us to buy her something at the gift shop was to power-sulk. This move is accomplished by walking 40 yards in front of us, head down, ignoring all of our calls to stay with the family. And of course, once we got to the gift shop and she discovered that we didn’t feel like rewarding her moody behavior by buying her a piece of shit stuffed rattlesnake doll, the power-sulking went into overdrive. She is fucking eleven. I cannot imagine what her attitude will be like in just a few short years, mainly because I’m having her ungrateful ass shipped off to a nunnery. They still have nunneries, don’t they? They must. Spell check didn’t complain about the word.
Anyway, if you’re ever in the Phoenix metro area, I recommend the Boyce Thompson Arboretum highly. WAY more than the Phoenix Botanical Garden, actually, as that seems to be nothing more than a botanical garden dedicated to showcasing desert weddings. You can imagine what bringing my family there would be like.
Pastor: And do you, Diane Crumbleberg take this man in holy matrimony…
Bride: Hey! What the? HEY! OH MY GOD! STOP IT!!!
Groom: Kid, what the fuck are you doing? Don’t tear at her dress like that!!!
My Five Year Old: What?
My Three Year Old: Nyyyyaaaaahhh nyyyyaaaahhh! (runs off)
On to the week you missed because you were busy removing cactus needles from your toddler’s fist:
- On Tuesday, while we disagreed what type of genitalia we’d prefer to have on our foreheads, we all agreed that Mick Jagger looks like a chunk of beef jerky in a rumpled Armani suit.
- On Wednesday, we finally laid to rest the notion that an independent can win the White House by talking about how my kids shit.
- On Thursday, I discussed what I don’t “ike”, and how it may prevent my toddler from reaching his next birthday.
- On Friday, I once again had to remind seniors that it is not ok to walk around smelling like you just took a bath in a port-o-potty.