The Exhausted Dad: A Squishy family reunion
Get ready for some family drama.
My oldest son turned 11 last week. Prior to the birthday he made an exhaustive wish list for his parents’ buying consideration.
The list included ridiculous items like a smartphone (nope!), as well as more manageable gifts like alcohol pens. He really didn’t like my joke about how he needed to wait until he turned 21 to draw pictures with alcohol pens. No patience for #HashtagDadJokes, apparently.
At first glance, his list seemed too long for a family of moderate means. However, upon closer inspection, I realized half the entries said, “Squishmallows.”
In past columns, I’ve written about my son’s collection of these puffy stuffed animals, and, more specifically, the strange relationship dynamics between them. The ringleader of the group is Lennerd, a lion with rainbow-colored hair that now has dozens of Squish children. Another prominent Squishmallow is Manny, an extra-large-sized snowman who technically belongs to my younger son.
Manny has his own children too … but in terms of companionship, it’s been a lonely experience.
Cut to my son’s birthday as he’s opening his last few presents. After unwrapping an assortment of small-to-large size Squishmallows, he opened his second-biggest box to reveal an extra-large-sized Squishmallow named Monica.
Without hesitation, my son erupted with joy: “MANNY’S WIFE! SHE’S BEEN GONE FOR YEARS!”
Apparently he’s told me this story before but, sue me, I can’t keep the lengthy biographies of stuffed animals straight.
My son repeated the highlights: “Manny is 30 years old, but his wife has been gone for 10 years. She went on a trip but then got lost in the mail. She kept getting sent to different places.”
For clarification: Squishmallows go on trips by themselves. But they travel by mail.
My son: “Monica can’t wait to talk to all her children!”
My son had another large box to unwrap. Spoiler alert: It was another extra-large Squishmallow. He opened the present to discover “Minerva,” and, to my shock, he didn’t have an established story for her.
So I made up the story of Minerva.
Me: “Oh, geez, it’s Minerva. That’s Monica’s sister. She’s always hanging around the house and thinks she can tell Manny what to do.”
Me (switching into my booming “Manny” voice): “Ugh, Minerva! Go home! You don’t live here!”
My son (in his newly-minted Monica voice): “Stop trying to ruin my marriage, Minerva!”
Later, he told me one of the small Squishmallows he received was Manny’s long-lost third triplet.
My son: “Manny left him at the grocery store.”
Birthdays are a bit strange in our house.
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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 7-13. He is tired.
The Exhausted Dad
