Daddy is Fucking Cool

A conversation I had this afternoon with my five year old son:

Him:  Can we watch the video of you skydiving again?

Me:  Forget that, let’s just go skydiving.

Him:  Really?  Mommy, can I go?

Mommy:  No.

Me:  Mommy’s no fun, is she?  I have no problem throwing you out of a plane.

Him:  Yeah, cause you’re cool!

That’s how it works when you’re a guy with sons:  The more crazy and reckless you are, the more they worship you.  I could found the Casey Anthony Skydiving School and spend all day throwing toddlers out of Cessnas, and they’d eat it up.  Tell them to eat their vegetables and do their homework, however, and you become a giant tool.

So fuck that, here’s a list of things I’m going to promise to do with my two sons.  Mommy will say no, so I won’t have to do them, but she’ll be the bad guy and I can kick back with a beer, covered in toddler glory.  And piss and shit too, because toddlers piss and shit everywhere.  But still…

• Egg a police station
• Go cow tipping
• Smoke a fuckton of pot then watch the Blair Witch Project with all the lights out
• Test fire some AK-47’s
• Get involved in a high speed chase
• Hold up a liquor store
• Blow up a school
• Ride bikes on the roof
• Moon the President
• Drive a funny car through a hospital zone
• Steal a lion from the zoo
• Juggle live grenades
• Flamethrower practice at the nearest lumber yard

It’s not that I’m a bad parent.  I know, deep down inside that I need to protect my children from harm.  I’m the type of guy who knows, when his child skins his knees, to spray a little lemon scented Pledge on there.  But pretending to be a horrible parent in front of my kids gives me some serious street cred.  And I’m taking that to the motherfucking bank.  In a funny car.