I Hate That

Click bait, surely. But I don’t know how else to describe what happened.

I have two babies right now. A- is 2.5 and J- is 11 months. When A- was younger, I wanted to get her the classic shape sorter game/activity.

If you don’t know, they have many versions these days. The old red and blue one with yellow pieces is retro.

The one I decided upon is a blue dome with a knob or button thing on top that rotates the top half. So the shapes change each time the knob is depressed. A square/cube area becomes a top half triangle, bottom half cube. And the oval piece changes to top half concave thing, bottom half oval. You get the picture.

Anyhow, my wife and I have been embattled for some time now. (Not ever going to go into details here, sorry.) Almost every conversation becomes an argument. Well, I get on the floor with the babies tonight and start to play. I have been working a ton of late and this is a rare event these days.

I see my wife helping J- to put the cube in the cube space.

Good, I think.

Then I see her encouraging him to put in a wrong piece that happens to fit sideways into that same hole, but is clearly (by markings on the pieces themselves) not meant for that spot.

“That doesn’t fit there,” I exclaim, as if I believed the LORD could actually prevent J- from becoming Special Needs at this point.

“Yes it does,” my wife responds.

“What?” I ask, dumbfounded. “It may fit, but you don’t train the baby to put it there. The entire point is the right piece to the right spot.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?? Because it seems like you just told me that ‘it fits’, even though it doesn’t?”


With Metallica’s new album and tour announcements, I have been mentioning to a coworker that I may text him some songs as he is uninitiated. I haven’t yet. It’s actually a daunting task to share something so intimate.

As I wait and consider songs, I found myself listening to the radio today, and a perfectly poetic—in the “eternally powerful” sense of the word—rock song came on. It’s main lyric is, “I hate everything about you/why do I love you?”

This got me thinking. I know exactly what he means. Not because I hate everything about my wife, but because it’s a killer lyric. Here’s my attempt at a killer lyric.

I want my wife to think/She never thinks anymore

I hate that my wife won’t think/When she does think, I have seen good results—like with most people/I think

Why won’t she think?

Teaching our son the wrong way to do the game is tantamount to abuse

Abuse/Not because the game matters—though it does

Abuse/But because other kids (her son for example) didn’t or don’t have games

Abuse/Because it’s a complete waste of an opportunity

Abuse/And I hate that

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