Life, or Driving mr. leary

By Matt Szabo

When I met Edward Leary, I sure as heck didn't expect him to have any significant effect on my way of life. I mean sure, the little rascal would alter my drive to work by about a few miles every morning: instead of stopping by the local coffee shop next to Home Depot I would take a more southward route towards the small and humble Leary home. Heck, I didn't mind losing out on my commercial coffee. Eleanor, Edward's attractive, divorced mother, promised she would prepare me a fresh cup for every day I picked her young offspring for elementary school.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, " I said again and again as she politely tried to get me to decline, a sure indication of absolute desperation. I was happy to oblige; it's not that often that you get to do a pretty woman a favor and get a caffeine fix in addition. He didn't look like too much trouble anyway.

At least that's what I thought when I first saw him. His short unruly hair obviously showed the signs of attempted straightening - undoubtedly by his mother - and this simple observation gave me a sense of ease. If he was anything like his mother, he would be the most well behaved boy in the neighborhood, and her attempts to fix his hair showed that she was willing to instill her values in the child. At least, that's what I thought.

It's funny how simple observations can turn out quite ironic. At the time I inferred obedience and kindness in those distorted locks, in the end they symbolized quite the opposite. After kissing her son goodbye and the compulsory "behave", we were off down the driveway to my Taurus. I opened the door and expected him to "hop in", which is exactly what I said. Imagine my suprise when he followed my intstructions literally, except for the added "boing boing" which he decided to mouth in a lisp-impaired cackle. I ignored it: all kids love to have fun...why not when you're getting in the car?

Everything returned to normal for about five minutes. I pulled out of the driveway, drove down the residential road, and pulled onto the expressway, all to a low humming sound emitting from Edward. I didn't know what song it was, but then again, I didn't really care. This kid was gonna be in my life for 15 minutes a day for 5 days...I figured what's the point and decided not to get involved.

Hah. No sooner had we passed a billboard advertising repeats of the tv show "Friends" when the little munchkin decided to render his version of the theme song, complete with lispy spit flying everywhere. I listened with horror as the little horror yelled "I'LL BE THERE FOR YOU" at the top of his voice (in a note completely off scale). Trust me, it was more annoying than Jim Carey's noise in "Dumb and Dumber"...it actually made you seize up all over your body including the hands and feet, which is definitely not good during driving. As I tried to gain control of my body and the car moving at 85 mph because of a spasming foot, the little man reached over and grabbed the shifter and switched to reverse, which was quite troubling considering my position. The tires squeeled, spraying smoke into the air, and I thankfully regained control of my hands at just the right time, jerking the steering wheel to the left in order to dodge and incoming semi from the rear. We spilled off the road into a sewage ditch, which, unfortunately, was quite full considering it had rained on and off for the past three days.

Thankful to be alive, I jumped out of the car and trudged through the mucky water to the passenger side where the little demon child sat with wide eyes, clapping his hands in ecstasy. I opened the door and he stepped out grinning even wider and cried, "Awethummmbb". I glanced at my car. Crap.

I dropped him off at school, went to the mechanic and got four new tires, and then I took the day off from work. All I needed was a 3 hour bath to think of my simple plan for tomorrow's nightmare.

I arrived with a roll of ducktape. They say it's so strong it can even keep a beefy convicted felon tightly bound. Well, whoever said that crap never tried to bind a 6 year old kid. Within minutes of tying the kid's hands down and keeping his mouth occupied with a bar of chocolate, he played an encore performance of his ode to "Friends" with a sequence of hand farts. We didn't have any driving escapades, but I was nonetheless perturbed beyond belief and decided to spend another day at home, this time with an ice pack for my delicate ears.

I eventually figured out how to keep him sane. I went out and bought a hand held gaming device and a game for $80. When he saw that, he turned into an old man playing chess...slow to respond, slow to hear, slow to care about anything except chess. I finished out my week, dropped him off at school, and that was it. I have a dinner date with Eleanor set for tomorrow night, so all in all, it was good.

But what have I learned? How will this affect my parental skills, assuming that I will someday have a child as my own? Yes. Ducktape sucks, videogames are GREAT for developing minds, and television is indeed a terrible influence on kids. Really, it is. If you don't believe me, have your six year old belt out the "Friends" theme while you're driving down the express way. Oh, by the way, make sure there's a ditch. No large bodies of water. None. Good luck, friend.