My Son, The Comedian

Written by Chris Loprete

My 3 year old is hysterical. Seriously. I’m not talking about the little “oh isn’t that cute” type of laughs that an infant elicits. Nor am I talking about the courtesy laughs you give to a joke told at a cocktail party or by the elderly…or your in-laws. No, I mean every day my 3 year old son says or does something that brings a genuine belly laugh out of me. I always thought I was a big shot because I wrote and performed a one man show a few years back. That’s nothing! My kid performs a one man show every night whether it’s on our living room floor or in the bathtub. And it’s all improv. You should see what he can do with a few finger puppets and plastic dolphins. He’s named every one of his toys and not your every day run of the mill names either. He calls his rubber shark, “Rusty”. Who names a shark Rusty? Brilliant! I’m dying over here! He’s tells funnier stories than Bill Cosby, he’s a better prop comic than Carrot Top and can make a bigger mess than Gallagher. He also works blue at times. His bathroom humor would make Howard Stern blush. I’m not all that fond of his potty mouth, but I understand that he has to work in front of all kinds of audiences. I don’t know, I guess some kids at day care go for that sort of stuff. And unlike every comedian who is just starting out, he never bombs. He goes out there and kills every night.

Is he funnier than your kid? Of course he is. To me. You wouldn’t find him funny though. Just like your kid is hilarious to you, but I probably wouldn’t get it. His or her musings and observations would be lost on me while you would be rolling on the floor laughing. Why? It’s all in the material. You’ve heard the question, “Where do they get this stuff?” The answer? Us, of course. Our kids are little Dictaphones. They just spew back to us what they hear. Good and bad. Their brilliance is spewing it back to us when we least expect it. Last weekend my toddler came in to our bedroom at 7AM looked at me in bed and said with extreme disgust and contempt, “Daddy, are you asleep? Oh, I don’t believe it” Not funny right? WRONG! It’s comedy gold. Tonight he looked at me and the trash bag in my hand and innocently said, “Oh! What have you got there?” SEE? That’s funny! It’s not just what he says, but the commitment behind it. I have no idea when I, my wife, or anyone else said those words, but we must have at some point. The fact that he chose these random moments to say them back to us just shows his penchant for comic timing. And he’s not the only funny preschooler in the family. My 4 year old niece makes me howl too. And the two of them together? Abbott and Costello only WISH they were that funny. I’m also excited because my 2 month old just learned to smile. I’m sure he’s starting to mentally jot some notes down that will soon turn into some real A material.

I’m writing this down here in this forum because it’s the kind of thing that only parents can understand. We are all dying to brag or joke about every single thing our kids say and do. We have to show some restraint though. Our friends who are single and married without kids would give us a smile or a courtesy laugh (see above), but they just don’t get it. Our friends with kids would genuinely laugh, but they would be thinking, “My kid said something much more cute and funny the other day”. Don’t believe me? When you update your Facebook status with an anecdote about your child, the only comments you get are from parents who will say. “That’s funny. It reminds me of the time my little Brittney said…”

Now if you’re like me and you have a toddler, enjoy these comedy sets because they will not last. As my kid grows he will always be funny, but he’ll be a different kind of funny. The innocence and complete lack of insecurity is what makes this stage of life so magical and uproarious. So do yourself a favor before it’s too late. Turn off the TV and take time to watch the show that your kid is performing right in front of you. I guarantee it’s better than any reality show or sitcom (except for the fine programming on ABC). And at times they’ll need a straight man so make sure you can keep up.

Chris is an actor/writer living in Los Angeles. He’s performed in movies, TV and on stage with the Groundlings Improvisation troupe, and the award winning Circle X Theatre Company. He recently performed his self penned critically acclaimed one man show “You’re From Philly, Charlie Brown” in several cities across the US. Chris currently works as an Associate Writer/Producer for ABC On-Air Promos for Reality and Comedy. He lives north of Los Angeles, in Santa Clarita, with his wife and two children.

Best Worst Mother

Written by Molly Beck Ferguson

I'll admit it. Parenthood has flat-out humbled me. I'm sure it has for many other parents out there as well - it has to have. No one REALLY gets it until you are in the throws of it. I only too-late realized how many ignorant and inadvertent judgmental thoughts I had when I didn't have a child of my own. "I'll never do this when I have a baby!" "Why is she always doing that with her kid?" I apologize to you all. I had no idea what I was talking about.

But that being said, there are still a few beliefs and ideas of child-rearing that I had in my former life that I am really trying to stick to now. Even though I now know I don't know very much, I'm honestly trying to be the Best Mother I can be by trying to make the best choices I can.

To let you in on one of our little "secrets" - my husband and I have never really been a big fan of Disney - particularly the ubiquitous Disney Princesses that we feel infect our consumer culture. My husband is afraid that after one princess-themed birthday party, before you know it we'll be shelling out money for the costumes, the dolls, Cinderella backpacks, Ariel Band-Aids, and Snow White multi-vitamins. I gotta say, I'm not really crazy about it either. It seems, I don't know - lazy. Easy. Like I should be more creative with my parenting than that. I owe it to her to open up her mind to broader views outside these unrealistic ideas of a handsome prince swooping in and making her dreams come true.

My 2 year old daughter and I were recently invited as a free guest of a friend who has a Silver Pass to Disneyland. Seriously - this is the way to do it. All the fun of Disneyland without the added pressure of feeling like you need to have an AMAZING time, because you've just paid the equivalent of a luxury car payment to get in. If we had the choice, it's a place we probably wouldn't pick to spend the day on our own, but we very excitedly and graciously accepted the invitation.

I know my daughter had a wonderful day at Disneyland, but I gotta tell you, I had the time of my life! Secretly. I don't know if I could have admitted to some friends or maybe even my husband what a happy crazy person I became being there. I became the Best Worst Mother ever. I coerced my toddler into eating a lollipop for lunch - which she all too eagerly agreed was a great idea. And didn't she need a Kermit doll too? Of course she did, the poor deprived child! Even though we have so many stuffed animals at home I consider launching some of them out into space just to get them off my living room floor? But we don't have a Kermit the Frog doll! Oh, wait! She needed a Mickey Mouse balloon! The same balloons that we found out our cats like to nibble on the string and vomit for days, you ask? Yup. Did that give me pause for a moment? Nope. "One $7 balloon, please."

What happened to me? I'm a rational, logical, frugal person who barely recognized myself that day. I was quickly becoming that enabling, lazy mother I was just thinking judgmental thoughts about a few paragraphs ago!

As we stood in line for the merry-go-round, I told my gracious friend with the Disney Silver pass how much fun I was having at the aptly-named Happiest Place on Earth. He said - "Yeah, I've invited other people to Disneyland before, but they never want to come. I think they don't even want to expose their kids to it for fear that it will just create princess-loving Disney consumers out of them." Uhh...who would think THAT, I sheepishly thought, not making direct eye contact. But it hit me in the wake of hearing about another person's similar judgmental thought - we weren't taking our kids to a firing range, or an opium den, or any other grossly inappropriate place for them. We are taking them to Disneyland! Where a kid can be a kid, as I believe the old commercial sang. And all of us were having fun. A LOT of fun. What was so bad about that, that people purposely avoided it?

I don't think that keeping your kid away from a consumerism-heavy theme park is necessarily being the Best Mother - because they are missing out on a truly magical, fun experience. I also don't think that exposing them to it makes you the Worst Mother either - because that certainly doesn't mean I have to buy every toy, t-shirt, or fruit snack with princesses on them. Can't I find a middle-ground and just be the Best Worst Mother I can possibly be? Isn't THAT what it's all about?

Letting her watch ONE MORE episode of Dora The Explorer - not only because I have to get one of a million things done in those 23 minutes, but because she loves it. Picking up a Happy Meal for dinner one night - because I can't deal with cooking, and frankly, she loves French Fries! Buying her a "Belle" gold lame' princess ball gown to play dress-up - because she loves looking at herself in the mirror with it on, it makes her feel special, and it puts a smile on that luminous little face. These are things that society makes us believe we are bad, lazy parents if we give in to them. I cannot believe that's true.

I told my friend while in line waiting for the merry-go-round at Disneyland, "You know, if you only feed a kid carob, they are going to find chocolate somewhere eventually." And it's true - we are responsible for our children, but ultimately, as they grow up, we can't control what they love, what they do, or even what they eat. I was a changed woman and a changed parent that day, humbled once again. I had a great time at Disneyland, and officially took one step closer to becoming the Best Worst Mother I really hope to be. And I'm positive my daughter will be better off for it.

On a final note, the next morning, still basking in the glow of our trip to Disneyland, my daughter refused to eat her breakfast. I did sink to a new manipulative parental low by actually hiding behind the giant Mickey Mouse balloon and asking her in a falsetto voice to "Please eat your yogurt!" It worked like a charm. Best Worst $7 I ever spent...

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Thanks. I got it.

Written By Chris Loprete

Why is it that when women see a father alone with a baby, they immediately assume we don’t know what the hell we’re doing? Now I don’t want to generalize here. I’m not talking about single women. In fact the single women tend to gravitate towards the daddies at the park or in other public places. Chicks LOOOOVE guys with babies. Babies and dogs. They say, “I want that.” Now of course we men are kidding ourselves because ‘that” is not specifically us, but rather a stable man who’s a good father, and the fantasy is fun. Anyway I’m probably already in trouble with my editor who happens to be my wife (and the two are very rarely mutually exclusive) so I’ll go on. No, I’m talking about the annoying mother who wants to give all kinds of unsolicited advice on how to raise your child. And rightly so. OBVIOUSLY I MUST need this unsolicited advice because my child’s mother is nowhere in sight. I therefore MUST be doing something wrong. And then, I imagine this “guardian angel” will go along her merry way and later at the dinner table tell her family how she saved a child’s life today.

Take this little encounter for example. It was a summer Saturday afternoon about two years ago. I was in my townhouse downstairs and my wife was upstairs with our infant son. I was watching a baseball game and cleaning. The cleaning part is not important to the story but I specifically remember doing it and I always like to remind my wife/blog editor that it does happen on rare occurrences. Anyway I could hear my son crying upstairs pretty loudly. He was probably getting his diaper changed which to him has always been the baby equivalent to a root canal. There was a knock at the door. When I answered it I saw a woman who was walking her dog in front of our door. She asked, “Do you have a baby?”
“Why yes” I said waiting for the inevitable compliment. Something along the lines of, I see you walking him. You have a lovely family. or Well, he’s obviously going to grow up to be a very good looking man. Why else would she take the time out of her dog walking to knock on our door?
This is why: She looked at me and said, “He’s crying upstairs.”
I paused to make sure I had heard her right. Then I said, “Yeah, my wife’s upstairs with him.”
She replied, “Oh, I heard the game on pretty loudly so I wasn’t sure you if could hear him”
Yyyeeeeahhh. Handled, honey but thanks. I’m sure the children of our housing complex are a lot safer with you roaming the sidewalks knocking on doors. Hey hero, I think I hear a baby coughing a couple of houses down. Do you want to call child services or should I?
Or how ‘bout the woman on the beach later on that same summer? I was walking on the beach, my son safely strapped into the front loader on my chest. I felt good. First of all the Baby Bjorn completely covered my huge gut so I wasn’t nearly as self conscious as usual. And secondly, it was a beautiful day and I was walking with my new son at the place I’m always the happiest: the beach. So when I saw a woman walking toward me and eyeing both of us, I started to feel even better. I was sure she could sense the good energy coming off of me and like I said the baby was covering up my huge white shirtless girth so I thought Hey, I think she’s checking me out.
So when she passed by and asked, “Does he have sunscreen on?” I was a bit nonplussed. First of all I had practically bathed him in SPF 560 or whatever the strongest baby sun goop is nowadays. This kid could have crawled across the surface of the sun and come away with nothing but a nice base.
So I told her, “Uh….yeah…plenty.”
She replied, “Oh. Cause his legs look a little red.” and passed by me never breaking her stride.
I immediately turned and shouted after her, “Yeah? Well they call his chubby legs and butt baby fat. They call yours cellulite!” ZING! That got her. Of course I didn’t actually say that but ooooh I wish I had.

And these brilliant pieces of parenting wisdom are not confined to just me when I’m alone. My wife has had to endure some slings and arrows of her own. It’s like divide and conquer. Once my wife and I are divided, they love to conquer. I don’t ever want to hear a sentence that starts with, “Y’know what WE do…” I don’t even like hearing it from our parents, but that I understand and tolerate because “parental interference” is in the grandparent’s code book. It’s a God given right. To tell you the truth as my wife and I get ready for baby #2, we’ve learned to tolerate buttinskys a little more. In fact I’m amazed how laid back we are about having another child and we’re only 3 months out. I guess we think of ourselves as old pros now. In fact it probably won’t be long before we’re handing out some advice of our own to other parents who obviously don’t have a clue what they’re doing. I’m sure they’ll thank us for it.

The Family That Laughs Together, Stays Together *

* Blogger’s note: Due to the graphic nature of the following story and the family nature of this website, please note that throughout the blog, the word “laugh” and it’s uses will be used to represent the word “vomit.”

Ever had a stomach virus? For those that have, you may skip this next paragraph as I would hate to conjure painful flashbacks. For those that have not yet had the pleasure, let me describe a bout with a stomach virus. Imagine the worst 48 hours of your life. There. That’s pretty much it. Imagine dying of thirst, but not being able to drink even water because you can’t hold any liquids down. Imagine setting up a makeshift bed on the bathroom floor tile because there’s no real point in leaving the room where you’ll be spending most of the night plus you can’t waste precious seconds running all the way from your bedroom. Imagine involuntary chills, but a temperature of 102. Imagine if a genie appeared to you and said, “What is your wish, master?” and you unhesitant in your joyous answer, “Genie, kill me. I wish for death. Make it swift, but make it happen.” Of course this would be a strategic error because you could probably just as easily wish for the stomach virus to go away and still enjoy the rest of your life.

The TODDLER was taking a late afternoon nap when he laughed *(see above note) for the first time that Saturday. As adults when it comes to the unpleasant but inevitable task of laughing, we are experienced enough to run to the bathroom commode, laugh it up and flush it down. Toddlers can’t get to the bathroom so they just laugh and laugh. And man, there’s nothing more unpleasant than cleaning up projectile laughter. You find laughter in places that seem impossible. The TODDLER wasn’t done though. He began laughing every 15 minutes. The poor little guy was miserable. He didn’t understand what was happening. He only understood that he wanted it to stop. Every time he felt the laughter start to rise he would whine a meager, “No. No. Done. Done” as if to reason with his stomach that he was no longer enjoying this thank you very much. A doctor was called and prescribed an anti-nausea medication. Since it was after 6:00 on a Saturday evening, the prescription was called into an all night pharmacy. It was in the next town over and about a 15 minute drive. The FATHER raced over only to find that the all night pharmacy was closed from 7 PM to 7 AM that particular night due to “unforseen circumstances”. Of course it was. Upon arriving back at home empty handed the FATHER discovered that the TODDLER had been laughing in his own room, giggling in his parents’ bed, chortling in the hallway, and guffawing everywhere else. The MOTHER and FATHER would try to put a bucket in front of him, but the TODDLER began to associate that action with laughing and would push it away in hopes that it would stave off the next joke. Of course it didn’t and only made things quite a bit messier. Carpets needed to be scrubbed. The TODDLER’s bedsheets were soon soaking in the bathtub in an attempt to save them for future use. An attempt that would prove futile. The MOTHER and FATHER’s bedsheets were thrown into a washing machine that was about to have a very long night.

The FAMILY rushed to the Emergency Room of the nearest hospital. The title “emergency room” is one of those oxymorons like “jumbo shrimp” or “holy war”. Nothing about that place moves at the pace that emergencies should. And if you ever feel depressed because you’re sitting home on a Saturday night, take a walk over to your local emergency room. After spending 5 minutes in the packed waiting room of miserable, injured, and sick people, you’ll walk out feeling like a million bucks happily returning to your boring but healthy Saturday night at home. The FAMILY arrived at 9:00 and was seen at midnight. The TODDLER was given some medication that actually seemed to help. He stopped laughing long enough to hold down some liquids. The little guy was exhausted from his 6 hour ordeal however. The doctor looked at the PARENTS and said, “It’s so sad isn’t it? You just wish it was you going through it rather than him, don’t you?” Stupidly the FATHER agreed. And the irony began. When the FATHER turned to the MOTHER, he noticed that her face had gone deathly pale. She looked at him and said, “I don’t believe this. I’m about to start laughing.” She excused herself and went off to find a ladies room to chuckle in private. It was like the end of The Exorcist. The TODDLER was no longer possessed, but the evil spirits had hopped over to the nearest warm body. The hospital prescribed an anti-nausea medication (the same one the doctor had prescribed over the phone 5 hours before) and released the FAMILY. The pale MOTHER and recovering TODDLER headed out to the parking lot while the FATHER settled the bill. As he was filling out the paperwork, he suddenly felt the blood completely leave his face like the tide rushing out to sea just before a massive tidal wave. He felt his mouth go dry and his hands go clammy. You’ve got to be kidding me. The clerk handed his insurance card back and said cheerily,”You’re all set. Good night!” The FATHER grunted something incomprehensible and pondered turning right to the bathroom or left to the parking lot. Being the good father that he was, he decided to get his sick wife and baby home. He walked out to the car where the MOTHER was already in the driver’s seat. He was trying to talk himself out of laughing until he arrived home. No such luck. Things were just too funny on this night. The car was barely moving when the window was rolled down and the FATHER shared a joke with the parking lot. And then there were three…


Upon arrival home, the MOTHER and TODDLER wearily climbed into the master bed which was now a bare mattress with a bare comforter. The TODDLER quickly fell asleep while the MOTHER made a few more trips to the bathroom. The MOTHER and FATHER debated getting the prescription filled immediately or waiting until morning. The MOTHER reasoned that there would be no sleep without some form of medication. The FATHER reluctantly agreed, climbed into the car that didn’t have remnants of laughter all over the passenger door, and headed out to the other all night pharmacy which coincidentally was in the strip mall across the street from the previous all night pharmacy. This begs the question: what’s wrong with the inhabitants of this town that they need two all night pharmacies within fifty yards of each other? The FATHER felt queasy and exhausted, but was proud of his heroic efforts to take care of his family at 2:30 AM. In fact he felt downright thirsty. And he remembered that as a small boy, his mother always let him have Coke to help his upset stomach. So he picked up a bottle on his way out of the pharmacy. But always mindful of his weight, he settled for Diet Coke. Now this was stupid because A. he had probably dropped a pound or two anyway in the last couple of hours; B. the sweet coke syrup not found in Diet Coke was what helped upset stomachs and C. sipping the Diet Coke was probably the way to go rather than gulping half of the 20 ounce bottle in one swig. Needless to say the FATHER was halfway home when he felt the urge to cackle which quickly turned into a strong urge to hoot and holler. Having no time to pull over he rolled down the window and leaned out while acrobatically keeping the car straight. Now this was also stupid because if he had paid attention in Physics class he would know that expelling an object out of a vehicle moving 50 miles per hour would just bring said object right back into the vehicle at an equal velocity…or something like that. The joke was now on the FATHER not to mention the front seat of his car. Laughter: 2 Family Cars: 0. Had anybody been witness to this pathetic display, they would have seen a grown man driving a car down the highway screaming,
”AHHHHHHH! AHHHHHH! OH MY GOOOOODDD!!!!” Upon arrival at home, the FATHER quickly undressed and threw his clothes into the overworked washing machine. He jumped into the shower, scrubbed himself with the ferocity of an obsessive compulsive, toweled off, gave a pill to the MOTHER and took one for himself. He then staggered into bed and the family enjoyed a restless sleep for 2 hours.

The next two days were spent alternately on the couch and the bed. Frequent trips were made to the bathroom by both the MOTHER and the FATHER. The TODDLER was thankfully good as new and couldn’t understand why his parents didn’t enjoy it when he gleefully climbed all over them or jumped on their heads and why they remained in bed moaning all day. The MOTHER and FATHER were actually grateful that the TODDLER felt better. It would have been impossible to take care of him in this state. The FAMILY eventually recovered and actually relished in the weight loss. But they never will forget the night of 1000 Laughs.

So why do I recount this graphic tale that at times crosses the line of over sharing? Because looking back, it was a 72 hour period of time that can only be endured by people who truly love each other. Never has the term “for better or worse, in sickness and in health” been put to the test more. Because nothing says happy family like a night filled with laughter.