My son and I

Hi. My name is David Dickson. Most people call me Dave. I am a father of one and a husband of one. (that polygamy thing never really appealed to me. Besides, who would want the hysteria of more than one woman?) The reason I am starting this blog is, one, to help me type better. ( I have horrible habits) and, two, to help me recap and understand my three year old son better (so feel free to comment or question)

Mostly i want to document my experiences as a father. for instance the tantrum that my son is throwing as i type this entry. kicking his feet and screaming, because i would not (i left my wallet at home while we went for a short walk around the block.) buy him an Icee. Jessica, my wife, and Bradley, the three year old who's life is ending as we speak, go for walks to the gas station often. I, as the father who works during the day and misses out on the day to day "what is appropriate by Bradley standards" was quickly made aware that when passing the gas station on foot, one must always, always have means to buy his spoiled child whatever he desires.

now, i don't consider my son "spoiled", but he does get a lot of things that he wants...... or he has a fit. i figure this is normal for three year old to throw tantrums, and dealing with them is sometimes quite a challenge. i couldn't imagine doing the stay at home mom thing like Jessica does. i feel like i always need to handle the little fits of rage differently depending on the situation. for instance, if we are out to dinner and the cheeseburger is not as great as he thought it would be, when, before he ordered it, that was the only thing on the planet that he could eat. I have a hard time just ignoring him and i feel a need, derived from embarrassment, to give him whatever his little heart desires, in order to silence the head turning, and sometimes blood curdling screams. At home is a different story entirely. take the same scenario. i make him a hamburger and it might be bed time now if he doesn't eat it. i have no problem letting him cry until he is content and finally eats his food. then, of course he wants his dessert and is duely rewarded. eating, of course is not the only situation where my sons life turns into a tragedy, but you get the idea.

so back to the Icee thing. Jessica went to take a shower. Bradley, who always needs a shower/bath/a good drenching with a hose, was offered by me, the means to purchase his very own Icee for his devouring pleasure if he was only willing to get in the shower and endure a light scrubbing, so that his little body had maybe a few less layers of dirt on it. maybe my mistake was bringing the Icee thing back up at all, but the floor pounding continued.

It was funny to me, at the gas station, when i told him that i didn't have any money with me, he said "I have moneys" so i asked him to show me and if he had enough, that we could buy the so coveted Icee. He then pulled out of his pretend pocket, an equally pretend wad of cash. I ex pained that i need a real dollar, and then i watched the corners of his mouth touch his shoulders. I feel bad that i let my son down, but perhaps we can go for another shot walk later today and i can be the hero in his little eyes once again.