Pardon me for boasting a little bit here, but my four-year-old son Eddie is clearly ready for college. He has proven to his mother and me that he does not need the basic foundations of kindergarten, the monotony of grade school or the drama of high school. I think my pre-k son is just about ready to fit in with the college crowd and take his place among the slackers, the burn-outs and the party animals who will inevitably become the leaders of tomorrow. Here’s why:
My son's drink, and cup, of choice.
All His Friends Are Obsessed With Partying: Whether we’re watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Handy Manny, about every third episode revolves around going to a party, finding something for a party, getting ready for a party or preventing something bad from happening at a party. His school friends are just as obsessed. He has about 20 kids in his class and he has two teachers who are desperate for activities. Lincoln’s Birthday? Have a party! We’ll make top hats! Arbor Day? Have a party! We’ll plant seeds in paper cups! Nicholas Garbachio’s 5th birthday? We’ll have a party! The school parties always seem to involve cupcakes, though my son never brings home any leftovers for me to sample.
And these kids aren’t stupid: most are able to weasel out two parties for one birthday. One birthday party at school is almost mandatory, but then there is almost another party at some kid-friendly location like an inflatable playground, a bowling alley or the dreaded Chuck E. Cheese. We’ve had whole weekends taken up with no tasks other than shuttling my son back and forth between different birthday parties. These kids make Lindsay Lohan look like a homebody.
He Doesn’t Respect Authority: I remember turning 19 years old, being perfect and knowing everything. My son is almost five and already has a self-righteousness about him that makes Donald Trump look like Woody Allen. Eddie spends a good deal of his time marching around he house dictating what mommy and daddy should do and mommy and daddy spend a good deal of time thinking about military academies. If I tell Eddie he can have a cookie after dinner he’ll tell me “No!” and then proceed to argue with me for 20 minutes about why he shouldn’t get a cookie. When I finally agree he’ll throw a full-fledged tantrum and demand to know why I’m such a bully. So far he hasn’t tried to organize his 10-month-old sister into staging a protest in our living room, but I suspect that day will come soon.
My Son Is All About the Babes: Regular readers know that Eddie has already mastered setting fashion trends amoung the pre-K crowd but that’s only a side-effect of figuring out on his own that girls are pretty darn interesting. While some of his friends are starting to worry about catching cooties from the fairer sex my son has managed to create quite a few flirty friendships, claimed two different classmates as his “girlfriends” and agreed to no less than three different future marriages. He’s a player before he can spell it.
He Likes To Drink From A Shot Glass: My four-year-old has some seasonal allergies and takes a little dose of Claritan every day. He gets such a kick out of downing a shot of Claritan that he now regularly asks for drinks in his “little cup.” College is where you go to learn how to drink but my son has already mastered some of the finer points, including treating his waiter (me) nicely when he wants something and knowing to ask politely for a drink when he’s at the bar (kitchen counter). As a good bartender I’m obliged to pour him two fingers of milk or water and let him down it in one shot. He’s a lousy tipper, though.
He Likes To Streak: After knocking back a belt of Claritan what better way to celebrate your youth than ripping off all your clothes and running through the house naked? My son regularly does this as I run the bath for him each evening. He usually accompanies his streaking with screams of joy as he runs up and down the hallway, giving our home the sound and feel of a frat house with a fraternity of one.
Fortunately, I don’t think my little guy will be packing up and moving out the dorm room quite yet. To get into college you usually need to get a pretty solid SAT score, have earned a high school diploma and at least be able to write your own name with a crayon (assuming he’s not attending on an athletics scholarship).
And, if you don’t mind me saying so, you also have to be willing to share your cupcakes with the guy who pours your drinks.
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Absolute genius! This is great!