The all too familiar cry of my toddler. The remote has become his best friend, it is his reason to live.
He knows that we hide the remotes as he loves to just sit there and press the buttons on them. He could care less if anyone is actually watching the TV as it mindlessly flips through every channel or if he deletes my favorite show from the TiVO, as long as the batteries hold out on that remote.
This morning mom was "guarding" the remote by her on the couch, you could see him eying it from across the room, those little gears cranking in his head, his fingers itching to hit those buttons and then he made his move.
He sauntered past the couch, straight to the end table where the ever growing stack of magazines sits and gently pushes them over. He knows that when the magazines topple mom is going to get up and straighten them up giving him the chance to make his move, and he does. As predicted mom gets up to straighten so he darts down the tunnel behind the couch and out the other end, finding his precious remote just sitting there, all by its lonesome. Just as he reaches out to grab it mom spots the little hooligan and snatches the prize from his grasp. The dejected look, the pouty pepper lip followed by the cry "remote" as if he was shouting out for his long lost love.
The boy is like Sylvester and the remote is the elusive Tweety Bird. Sometimes I feel bad and will let him play with a calculator or an old remote without batteries but it usually does not last long. When he figures out he has been shanghaied he sets out to find the real remotes and he will leave no cushion unturned in his quest.
I guess I am raising a future Al Bundy.
1 comment:
I bet he takes after you dad. All men/boys have a thing about the remote. Funny, this was topic of conversation at our house last night. The Remote... I never get to hold it at our house, unless my husband is at work or golfing.
So tell your wife that I said way to go.
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