A Sad Dad

Dark days in our household.

Bart has been hoarding nerd toys for his one-day child pretty much since our first date. All those boxes that arrive from eBay and the Hasbro Toy Shop and the G.I. Joe Collector’s Club are all in the name of good parenting.

“One day,” Bart said, while raising the lid of an old wooden trunk in his office, “these will all be Quinn’s.”

Holy action figures, Batdad! And they were two deep in there!

That’s just one of Bart’s hiding places. He also has a closet (a really good closet that would be great for my off-season clothes, mind you.) And let’s not forget the 11 storage bins in the garage.

Dear lord, please let our son like action figures.

We’ve seen glimmers of hope that Quinn will follow in G.I. Joe’s formative combat boots. He LOVES Thomas the Train. Like, loves Thomas. Every day he wakes up in his Thomas PJs, grabs a handful of trains, guzzles down milk from his Thomas cup, watches a Thomas episode on TV, and demands MORE THOMAS because clearly we are withholding the good stuff. That’s true love.

He also loves his daddy’s AT-AT, whom he refers to as “Puppy.” That’s a good sign, right?

Just as we started to feel hopeful, just as Bart thought his years of toy collecting were not in vain, this horrible thing happened.

Grandma bought Quinn a new pair of Crocs (Nope. That’s not the horrible thing. The kid loves Crocs almost as much as he loves Thomas.) This is the pair she picked out:

Perfect, right?

Now, Quinn loves opening boxes. This kid is very well-versed in the art and knows when a box arrives it’s usually for him.

“PRESENT!” He yelled when we saw the it, along with our monthly diaper delivery on the front porch.

So, let’s recap. We have a love of presents, a love of Crocs, and a developing love of AT-ATs. We’re aces! This kid is going to sleep in these shoes!

But you know what happens when you assume.

“YUCKY!” Quinn said when the box contents were revealed. And just so it was clear how he felt, he tossed the shoes aside and tore into the diapers.

Bart was crushed. Like Seahawks-losing-the-Super-Bowl-in-the-last-play crushed.

“Hey buddy, you love shoes,” I reminded him. “And your other Crocs are too small. Juju got you these cool new ones!”

Ill-fitting shoes seemed to sway him momentarily. He got a blister last week because of it. I removed the too small Crocs (yes, he’s still wearing them. Why, you ask? Because two-year olds. That’s why.) and put his mammoth foot inside the cool, new Crocs. I got one toe inside before he screamed.

“NO, MOMMY!” he shouted. “FEELS YUCKY!”

Yeah, okay, no need to clarify further. We get it.

Sad Dad. His dream of Father-Son Star Wars bonding time was flaming out quicker than Jar Jar’s hopes of starring in the new movie.

“You don’t like Yoda?” He asked, like he was a sixteen year old asking, You’re breaking up with me right before Prom? Then to me, “There’s got to be something wrong with the shoes, right? It’s not what’s on the shoes.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the shoes are faulty,” I said because I’m no dummy. Why kick a man when he’s down? Especially if you’re wearing yucky Yoda crocs?

So the shoes went back in the box and are headed back to whence they came. Later that night I got online to look for other Croc options. The kid really does need a new pair.

“I see it!” Quinn yelled as he does whenever I’m doing something he’d like to interrupt.

“Of course!” I said. Why not let him pick out his next pair of shoes.

Here’s what he picked out:

Seriously?

Perhaps he’s a bit more subtle in his taste. And let’s be honest, Yoda is a tad yucky.

Make your father happy, you will, young jedi.

And more importantly, now we don’t have to have another kid.