I first met Lloyd when we were working for a student newspaper in the early 90s. It was a simpler time. A young Bill Clinton was in the White House, Lady GaGa was still in her egg, and nobody’s phone was “smart.” Lloyd was a grad student in those days — one of those serious young men who threw out words like “hegemony” and “ontological” because he thought women liked that sort of thing.
Since then, the world has gotten more complex, and Lloyd has gotten simpler. I mean that in a good way. These days, he’s a writer and a dad.
Through the power of Twitter, we recently caught up, and he shared the following story.
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Thanks, Leanne. I have no idea if you rewrote my introduction. But if you did, I can only assume you left in the words “Clooneyesque,” “Swiftian” and “sauerbraten” … so thanks for that.
Everybody parents differently. We each have our own philosophy. Mine is stolen from the pages of Calvin and Hobbes. Which is fitting because so is my six year-old son, Cameron.
The other day he asked me: “If you get re-married, will you change your name?” And I replied: “Yes. To ‘Gertrude.'”
And he said: “This is why the other kids think I’m weird, Dad.”
But I digress.
Here’s my philosophy:
Major Premise: “If children are here to test us, then it must be God himself who is doing the grading.”
Minor Premise: “If it is God who is doing the grading, we must remember that he has a sense of humour. (Otherwise he wouldn’t have given us the Toronto Maple Leafs, the state of New Jersey, or Michael Bolton now would he?).”
Conclusion: “Our purpose as parents … is to make God laugh.”
So when my kid asked me the other day if he could try a drop of “Blair’s After Death Sauce,” I had a duty … nay … a HEAVENLY OBLIGATION to say “yes.”
Here’s what happened:
And here’s what Cameron wrote afterwards.
TRANSCRIPTION: Dear Diary, Do NOT try this at home! I put some After Death sauce on my tongue and it burnt in flame!
You can follow the further adventures of this lovable father and son duo on Twitter: @lloydrang