Convos with the Kiddos

Strange conversations with my tweens

I know every parent has stories of killer conversations with their children, and awkward conversations, and gut-splitting, and gut-wrenching ones too. We’ve had them in the Courts house many times. A recent convo with the kiddos happened in the doctor’s office while we waited on a wellness exam and sports physical ahead of the new school year. I can’t imagine what the nurses might have been thinking, but no authorities have come knocking, so I think we’re in the clear.

How it started…

“Is it gonna hurt? Is the shot gonna hurt?”

I can’t remember which one of my tweens asked me this, but both were staring intently and sitting there with bouncing knees and tense arms.

“Well, it’s not gonna feel great. It’ll be like a pinch.”

“I don’t like pinches,” Isabella said.

“I know, but you gotta get this one, and don’t worry. It’s gonna hurt a lot less than that belly flop a few weeks ago.” They chuckled, unconvinced. “And it’s gonna hurt way less than that one where your eyes were open.”

Genuine laughter and smiles broke the tension, and that would have been the end of it (not a significant conversation at all, but wait… there’s more), but it wasn’t the end of it— it was only the beginning.

I’ll cut out the dialogue from this point on for two reasons. First, because grammar is my weakest strength, and second, because I can’t remember all of it exactly, and this is a true story.

What followed was a discussion on if I would ever punch them (my two youngest— my daughters) in the stomach, and if so, for what reason(s).

Now, I know what you’re thinking, God no!

I said I know, really, I know… that’s what I was thinking too, and said as much, but then I started to think about it objectively.

Are there no reasons? I mean, there might be one. So, we began to discuss it; the reason, or reasons, that I would, in fact, punch my two youngest children— my daughters— in the stomach¹.

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Knucks, baby. Knucks. Photograph by Aaron Courts, c. 2015

And here they are, in no particular order:

1. If they inhaled a poison gas, I couldn’t get them to expel the air in their lungs. I don’t know the science of how getting one’s air knocked out of them works, or if it actually expels. And I know that if there was poison gas in the air, they’d just suck it back in, but stick with me here, and remember (two nervous girls about to get shots… that’s the audience). We’re not talking about bad guys with weird smiles and a lot of makeup popping pretend weather balloons full of gas over American cities. That’s ridiculous. We’re talking aliens.

   Aliens who invade our planet and have flatulence hazardous for humans to breathe. That’s right, Poison Alien Farts.

   If, they sucked in poison alien farts, and were dying, and we couldn’t get them to spew it out, I would punch them in the stomach and knock their wind out— to save them.

2. If they were being attacked by a vicious little monkey. This is unlikely in the part of Texas we live, maybe less likely than aliens, but objectively, this could be a reason to punch them.

   If we were walking the trails near our house, and the girls had brought a trail banana to fight off leg cramps, and a vicious little monkey jumped on their stomachs and began to attack them, I could end up punching them, no doubt. “Why not punch the monkey?” you might ask. That’s a good question, and one the girls asked too.

   Well, because the kind of little vicious monkey that finds itself in this part of Texas, and manages to escape, and manages to smell the girls’ banana, and decides he’s willing to fight all of us for it is a crafty little monkey to boot. Of course, it would anticipate my punch and having very limited experience fighting vicious, crafty, little monkeys, I would not. I think he would dodge my punch, and I would end up (inadvertently) punching my two youngest children— my daughters— right in the stomach. At least the first one…

3. Finally, the last reason that I would punch them in the stomach— boys.

   Hold on, hold on. I’m not punching my daughters in the stomach because they deserve it. I would be punching them in the stomach because a boy deserves it. Before you call protective services, please let me explain. It will all make sense in a moment.

   Boys have officially entered the picture. Not directly of course, but in conversation and glances in the drop-off line, or at the birthday parties. My girls are pretty, and one is developing very fast, and both are beginning to have their crushes, and both are crushes themselves, so I’m itching to punch a boy. They walk around smug and luring, and act like they’re already in a fraternity, and the only fraternity worth its weight in my book is the United States Marine Corps. It’s safe to say, that I am not impressed with any of these boys.

   I hope that changes before someone actually get’s punched. Stay on track, Aaron.

   Halloween is fast approaching— that’s key to this scenario (it really couldn’t happen any other day of the year). Halloween is fast approaching, and if by some chance, between now and then, a boy does something to hurt one of my girls and rates a good ol’ father-punch, then things could get hairy for the girls’ abdominal region.

   Let’s just say one of the girls tells me that Xan² hurt her and needs to be father-punched— easy day. I’m on the lookout for Xan and will punch him in the stomach when I see him.

   Now, let’s also say that one of our girls has a sleep over at a friend’s house the night before Halloween, and I expect her to show up to the neighborhood Halloween party the next night with her friend, in her costume— I don’t know… a wolf maybe— but she loses a bet at the sleep over and has to dress up like Xan.

   You see where I’m going with this. If my daughter that didn’t go to the sleep over sees “Xan” at the party and tells me, “Hey dad, that’s the boy I was talking about, Xan. You know, the one you said you were going to punch,” then the other daughter (dressed like the real Xan) could get punched in the stomach by accident. Road to hell and intentions… I know I’ve heard something about that before. I admit, this could also serve as a cautionary tell for fathers who think it’s appropriate to punch boys that hurt their girls, and maybe it is. But who am I to tell someone how to live their life. Take from it, whatever lesson you will.

   There’s definitely a lesson for daughters who decide to change into a different outfit after they leave the house and explained that to my own.

And that’s it. These are the reasons why I might, if circumstance demanded, punch my youngest children— my daughters— in the stomach.

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Okay, maybe a little more dialogue…

The shots went as well as can be expected, and they both took them like champs. We hung around the doctor’s office and stole latex gloves to play with and a few tongue depressors and then headed for the truck and some McDonald’s for lunch. Actually, one wanted McDonald’s and the other wanted Taco Bell, and since I’d just had them tortured by a doctor, I took them to both.

Walking out of the building, my youngest asked, “Hey dad, do you really think that aliens have poison farts?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I bet it’s poisonous to us. I mean they live in outer space, and come from other planets. Who knows what is in those farts.”

Both nodded and number three said, “That makes sense. I bet you’re right, dad.”

“Either way, don’t go sniffing around aliens’ butts if they show up. Okay?”

They laughed and agreed they wouldn’t, and then we rolled right into the next crazy convo with the kids…

“Hey dad, do you think trees can fart?”³

1. No children were harmed in the drafting of this account.

2. I don’t know any children named Xan, so as long as your Xan is sweet to my daughter’s, he is safe to be around me.

3. We decided that some trees do have flatulence.