But the 6-Year-Old Made Me Do It…
As Joshua gets older, one thing is becoming clear: Christmas has the potential to send us to the poor house. It’s not that Joshua’s demanding– I found one half of a busted .25 cent Rubik’s Cube and after handing it to him, became the coolest Dad ever. No, no. It’s not him.
It’s me.
See, when I go to the “toy store” and see aisles upon aisles heaped with glorious, shiny and fantastic things to play with buy for an imaginative 3.5 year old, the 6-year-old Dan resurfaces (which, admittedly, doesn’t take too long) with wide eyed and giddy vengeance. 34-year-old-rationality grinds to a halt as my hands become slaves to their new master and I mindlessly fill shopping carts, thoughtlessly empty shelves and enthusiastically tick off a mental laundry list of all things that, as a kid, would have had me contently locked away in my room. $50 for a Star Wars Republic Gun ship? Bargain! $89 for a Star Wars AT-TE Troop Carrier? Steal! And while my rational, seasoned consciousness would scream, ” When the h-e-double-hockey-sticks did Legos become so da**ed expensive? “, my new found 6-year-old id squeals, “Silence, Old Man!”
Thankfully, Mari-Catherine is usually on hand to pimp-slap some reason into me and send a pouting 6-year-old Dan back into his id-level room without dinner. Otherwise, it’d be “Good day” to our budget and “Peace Out” Joshua’s college fund.
Still, every once in a while, the inner six year old gets wise and whispers up from the basement and through the heater vents, where the unspoken bond between age 34 and age 6 finds irresponsibility and reason inexplicably tied. It’s in those quiet and weak moments I find myself mumbling, “Can you really put a price on happiness?” and it’s in those quiet and weak moments I find my eyes glazing over as I drone, “No, Master. No you can not.”
Next thing I know there’s a heavy-laden car in the garage, a bunch of toy retailers quoted as saying “What recession?” and an incoming credit card bill totaling a months salary.
In the mean time, I’m curled up and sleeping on the couch repeating to myself, “You can’t put a price on happiness. You can’t put a price on happiness.”
There is, however, an apparent price on sleeping in your own bed. It’s roughly the same price as that credit card bill.
Seriously Dan you are such a great writer, I could read all your blog posts just for entertainment value!! So I had to check in and see how you guys are doing, hope life is treating you well back in Logan. We miss you guys so much. Josh has been drooling over gun-porn (Excuse my language) way too much lately. He wants to know when you’ll be in Colorado so you guys can go shooting. His step brother owns like 400 acres and always asks josh to go knock off the prairie dogs. You would have lots of fun.
One more thing a girl in my ward just wrote a book and sold the rights for over a million dollars, and still climbing. 2 companies are battling over the movie rights. You should consider writing a book, I could find out who her agent is. Why not everyone could use an extra couple million every once in awhile. Just think endless amounts of Legos and Toys!! And yes I think it is CRAZY how much legos cost!!!!!
Hope you guys have a great Christmas.
Take Care.
Ali Eisnach
–Blush–
Dan, this is fabulous writing. You must submit this entry somewhere … local paper as an editorial? Somewhere.