Chunk is at day care today.
I kind of wish that our day care had a web cam, because I'd like to check in on him throughout the day and see how he manages without mom or dad around. I'm not worried about him. I don't feel like I need to spy on things to make sure he's not being beaten or kept in a cage, but the day care is reporting some really strange behavior that I'm having a hard time believing. For example, he lays down on his own to take naps and they don't even have to shoot him with a tranquilizer dart, like we do at home. They just say, "Night night!" and he lies down. No slipping a "mickey" into his sippy cup. No duct tape and ball gags. He just lays down on his mat and sleeps.
And apparently he actually eats his lunch. They circle "some" on the "He ate ___ of his lunch today" portion of his daily report. I've never seen them circle "he chewed on some of his lunch, pulled it out of his mouth and put it back on his tray, then later threw it on the ground." They never circle "dropped his lunch down the front of his onesie and somehow got peas in his diaper." And, I have yet to see, "He flat out refused to eat anything until we let him get up from the table, then he grabbed a handful of food and stuffed it in his face, while running away from the table laughing."
So, I'm sure you can understand my skepticism.
I'd also like a web cam so I could get a peek at the meeting going on between him and the other kids right this minute. I don't have any proof to back up my suspicions, but I'm pretty sure this is how things are going down:
Chunk: This weekend I started screaming at the top of my lungs.
Other Kid: Oh? When exactly did you do that?
Chunk: Whenever. When I was happy, when I was mad. When I'd hit my head on something. When I'd hug my teddy bear. You name it, it made me scream. And, it wasn't just your garden-variety screams, either. I gave it my all. It was the kind of scream that could turn milk into butter.
Other Kid: I don't understand what you mean by that. Milk into butter? What does that mean?
Chunk: Heck if I know. The point is, the screaming went on for days. Several screams an hour, usually. I'd even wake up in the middle of the night and let it rip. Of course, those bozos who call themselves my parents thought I was teething and tried to give me Tylenol. I refused it.
Other Kid: Dude! That's brilliant!
Chunk: Oh, I know! They were on edge all weekend. But, the coup-de-grace was the temper tantrums.
Other Kid: The temper tantrums? You started those too?
Chunk: Oh, yeah. I'd stomp my feet, hit and slap stuff, everything.
Other Kid: Wow! Sounds like you went all out.
Chunk: I did. It got to the point that I heard them talking about how they thought I might have been possessed or switched with a pod baby or something.
Other Kid: Dude... you're amazing.
Chunk: It's a gift.
Other Kid: So, what's next?
Chunk: I don't know. I mean, I've almost broken them. I can see it in their eyes, but I want that final moment when I shatter their wills to be BIG. You know... something really dramatic and grand.
Other Kid: The big Broadway finish.
Chunk: Exactly. Say, you know how to sharpen knives? I was thinking sharp knives might be just what I need.
Other Kid: No, man, you need to talk to Hunter. That kid is bad news.
Chunk: PUH-LEASE. That kid's an amateur. Stick with me... I'll show you a thing or two.
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