Life With Q

Life with Q

On a bitter cold day in January of the year 2000, I heard those 5 words that every soon to be parents waits for with a sense of excitement and dread, all at the same time. "I think my water broke" 20 plus hours of labor and a c- section later, my son was born. Quentin Charles Hutchison. I was there. The doctors got to see him first, but I was next. I was with my wife through the whole thing and was the first non hospital personal to hold him. I was so happy, so excited, and so tired. I had no idea that I didn't even know what tired was yet or how very, very much I still had to learn. You don't think about he little things they teach you, not when they are still months from being born. Below are some of the things my son has taught me, he is now age four and a half years.

The first thing I think I learned from my son, was that the need for sleep really can be overcome if you have a very small couch shouting at you every step of the way. The rest listed here are a bit more humorous, I hope. I know I enjoy them, now anyway. These are roughly in chronological order.

One day at about the age of 3, as I pull into the garage after a long day at work my son annonce, "Daddy, Mommies wiener blowed up" Of course, I hit the gas instead of the break, barely missed going through the back wall of that garage. I finally get the car stopped and turnd and looked at him and said "WHAT?" He calmly looked and me and as if explaining to much younger child, said, "Mommies wiener blowed up, fall off. She's a girl." My son had just figured out the difference between boys and girls. I thought about it for a minute, couldn't think of a way I was even close to ready to explain yet and really wanted the topic to change, so I replied back, "Yep, you got it buddy." (pretty sure I'll pay for that one some day) I 5 minute conversation followed with him wanting to know who had wieners and who didn't.

It's the little things that often bother him. A short time after the wiener incident, Quentin was very concerned about the sun. Finally he clued me in on why we see it every morning. "Daddy, the sun comes up every morning because it doesn't have a blanket and gets cold." Again, heavenly forces, gravity, moon, orbits, to a 3 year old........"yep, you got it buddy." (pretty sure I'll pay for that one some day too.

Ready to go out, (I have no idea I'm cute)

I know it's cold and snowy outside dad, I put on my boots, can't you see. Now lets go play.

Come on dad, do I look like up up to something?

Quentin and I went to visit my grandmother early this year. She took us out to eat at one of her favorite spots. I comfy, small town, downhome type restraunt called "The Swan". Other then Quentin and I, the rest of the clientile were all over 70. Through the entire meal he kept turning around in his seat and we couldn't get him to eat. I couldn't figure out what he was doing. He has always had an eye for little girls, but there weren't any with 15 miles of us. After an hour, we finally get him done and he has to go to the bathroom. As we walk past the counter, he stops at points at our waitress who has her back to us and is bent over putting things away, in a very clear, loud voice in a tone that has no business coming out of a 4 year old, he says, "Daddy, I like her." From the amount of laughter I heard behind us, I'm guess the only person that didn't hear was the little old man in the corner that had dropped off to sleep. I quickly hurried him to the bathroom.

In an effort to get the cats to bond with him a little better, I turned over the chore of feeding them in the morning to him. He is always wanting to help, so it made him feel good to have his own job. Morning as I'm getting my lunch ready, I hear him say to Niles, (our chubby grey tabby). "No Niles, you no eat today, you getting fat." Looked like someone was going to bet put on a diet.

Can we all just go to sleep now?

How do I make this thing go faster?

One Monday morning, Quentin like usual had gotten up with the dawn. He was quietly coloring a picture with some WASHABLE THANK GOD, markers. He was pretty involved, so I had grabbed some clothes for him to wear that day, put them on the floor next to him and said, "Quentin, daddy is going to go shave. Get your pajamas on. Everything is quiet from the other room as I shave. Just as I finish up, I hear the patter of little feet coming towards the bathroom. I turn to see what he wants, thinking he needs help fastening his shorts or something. As he comes around the corner into the bathroom with a triumphant smile on his face, still in his pajamas, I dropped my razor in the sink. "Look daddy, I got tattoo!" He had drawn a large blue Q on his forearm, then proceeded to color every inch of exposed flesh that he could see and reach with his right arm. wrist to elbow, top of feet to above the knees.
15 minutes later, with a still slightly blue tinted child, we emerged from the apartment on our way to work.
The worst part about it, he did a pretty good job, it did look cool....not on a 4 year old....but pretty cool.

Down and dreaming of more things to do, more things to figure out, more ways to torment dad.

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About Me

I have no idea what he is doing? Do you? I think it had something to do with Green KoolAid.

    One night, Quentin, a friend of ours named Regina, and I went out to eat at a little mexican restraunt here in Des Moines. Quentin did very well the entire time we were waiting for our food. When the food arrived, there was still just too much to look at and he wouldn't stay focused on eating. So, I kept quietly whispering, "Quentin, eat your food." After doing this about 4 times, Quentin decides he has had enough. In his small yet booming voice, he announces, "Daddy, your Pissing Me Off!"
     Regina, trying to be helpful, stifles a giggle from across the table.
     I turn to Quentin and replied, "honey, please don't say it that way."
    Seeing that daddy just doesn't get the point yet, he announces again, "Dadddy, your pissing me off!" From his tone of voice, you can tell that he doesn't feel he should have to elaborate, he is being perfectly clear.
     "I know dear, but don't say it that way, " I say again.
     "But your PISSING me off," he says.
     "I know Quentin, but please, say Daddy your making me angry or making me mad," I reply back.
     "But your PIS," he starts to say again, but I quickly cut him off.
     "I know, I'm pissing you off, just don't say it that way. Okay?"
     "Okay daddy," he pauses for a moment to review his choices and then annonces, "Daddy, your making me mad."
     Too give Regina credit, although she was red in face and having trouble breathing from holding in the laughter, she did very well. At no point did she actually burst out loud enough that Quentin could hear her.

    Around mid September of 2004, while I was driving Quentin to daycare so I could go to work, he makes an annoncement from the backseat.
     "Daddy, I have two brains."
     I was immediately sure I knew were this one was going, but none the less, I held out hope that I was wrong.
     "You do?" I said. "Where are your brains at?"
     "In my balls!" he announces proudly.
     Dear God help me I think to myself, then prayed, please let him mean eyeballs. "What balls are your brains in?" I ask somewhat timidly.
    "The ones next to my wee wee daddy."
    What followed was a 5 minute conversation where I tried to explain where his REAL brain was, and for the most part he now thinks daddy is a complete moron.
    "I finished by saying, "Honey, the brain your are supposed to think with, is in your head. Let's just leave it at that.?"