'True Blood,' 3-year-olds don't mix

I'm pretty sure this has happened to everyone.

Say, for example, that it's Sunday at 9 p.m. and you want to watch "True Blood" or any other similar show that contains plenty of sex, violence, more sex, more violence, curse words, mayhem and all those other great entertaining things that would undoubtedly traumatize and/or influence a 3-year-old if she were to watch it. Say also that you have a 3-year-old.

Some time after putting her to bed, you grab a slice of pizza and turn on the television.


As the sex violence and mayhem begin to materialize onscreen, you hear some strange things around you.





Inevitably, and before you can say or do anything, the child will turn toward the television, just as much sex, violence and mayhem begins to take place.


In a panic, you pause the show (turning the television would make more sense, but remember, you are in a panic and must act in a nonsensical panicky mode).

When pausing "True Blood," there are only three things that can happen on the screen.

1. There is naked sexy time going on; or
2. There is a ridiculously violent death going on; or
3. There is naked sexy time while there is a ridiculously violent death going on.

After witnessing such occurrence, there are only three things that can happen to a child.

1. She will be traumatized for life and you'll be named Worst Parent of the World by Worst Parent of the World Magazine.
2. She will giggle and mimic what happens on the screen and you'll be named Worst Parent of the World by Worst Parent of the World Magazine.
3. She will be indifferent while you are the one traumatized thinking that she will be traumatized or mimic what she's seen.

She will also grab a slice of pizza and will like you to tell her a story. Tell her about the time you won Worst Parent of the World by Worst Parent of the World Magazine.

Toddlers have superpowers

If you have a toddler, you are probably most familiar with the tot's uncanny ability to put your car keys inside the black hole of doom, which is conveniently located somewhere inside your house (most likely behind the refrigerator, or the toilet).

You might also have encountered some very special ninja abilities.

But when a toddler combines her super-human abilities, then you are in for some mayhem. Say, for example, that it's 8 p.m. and you want your tot to go to sleep.

So you say something like, "Time to go to bed"  or "It's sleepy time!"
Inevitably, this will happen:

There is no reasoning from this point on.You'll say, "Sorry, baby. It's time to go to bed."
This is how Pandora's Box is opened.

It is at this crucial point that you'll try to bring the toddler to her room. This will activate her super-human abilities.

First, you'll try to grab your tot. She'll tense up and become THE ARCH!

This is problematic in that the more you try to carry them, the more the arch will solidify in strange and unwieldy angles. It is an exercise of mathematical precision.

Once the arch achieves its purpose, which is for you to let go of the child, THE ARCH becomes THE NOODLE!

On its way down to the safety of the ground, and not content with slipping away from your many attempts to grab her, THE NOODLE will release a defense mechanism that has to be witnessed to be understood.

When this sound is compared with others in a decibel scale, what you get is this:

Once the toddler reaches the ground, her weight will multiply by about 12 tons, give or take a ton or two. The toddler's gravitational pull will be of that of the moon.

You'll somehow manage to disperse the tot's gravitons with sweet words, chocolate milk and a gummy bear (the toddler's kryptonite), at which point the little one will stand up and pretend that nothing has happened for the last hour.

Then you'll say, "OK, baby. Time to go to sleep."

Rinse and repeat.

Toddler 1, parents 0

Every now and then, my 2-1/2-year-old daughter has a strange look on her face. This usually happens when she's about to do something that she knows she's not supposed to do, like spreading Legos strategically so that unsuspecting fathers always end up stepping on them when they're barefoot.

On a particular Saturday morning, however, the look seemed augmented.

And then, it began...

I'm looking at her in disbelief. But before I could even ponder where she got this from, before I could even fathom how was it that she knew it was a bad word, she started running while repeating the word over and over, in a sheer and heavenly moment of hellish toddler joy.

  I call her name. I ask her to stop. I call her name again, loudly.

Mom joins in. "Stop." "Don't say that." "That's a bad word." "Please stop." "STOP RIGHT NOW!" This only serves to encourage her. She knows the word is forbidden. Now she's giggling while she is saying it. She runs around the house, ever loudly. She's discovered the forbidden fruit of words and she won't stop.

"IF YOU KEEP SAYING THAT, YOU GET A TIME OUT!"
Nothing
"NO LEGOS!"
Nothing.
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"
Nothing.
"NOW!"
Nothing.

Visibly upset, I sit on the couch, pondering how to admonish her while making her understand.

She stops and looks at her defeated and demoralized Mom and Dad.

She hasn't said it since.