Tales of a GTA Dad - Destructicus

...and the mini-beast left a wake of destruction in her path…rooms left completely overturned…books on the floor…DVD’s as well. Newspapers shredded along with important documents and commemorative Olympic editions of Sports Illustrated. Emptied laundry bins, stuffed animals left to die in a heap…purses emptied, diaper bags destroyed, animals terrorized. This is the path of devastation left by a 30-inch behemoth known affectionately known as Destructicus.
Dinner thrown from high chairs, hands banging on tables, drinks overturned as a sinister (and amazingly sweet) laugh fills the room. You avert your eyes for a split second and yet more havoc is wrought before you can re-focus your concentration. Hands lunging for a toilet, drawers flung open, lamps left teetering…Destructicus! Poof…the channel changes. Fingers prints on every mirror, every glass…CRASH! A blackberry separates from its battery, a basketball flies down a hallway, a cat runs in fear. As you lunge to clear a path a guitar is being strummed harshly from 10 feet away, and there is the laughter yet again…Destructicus!

A synthesized piano pumps out the first 3 seconds of All-Star by Smashmouth, quickly changes to Hot! Hot! Hot! By Buster Poindexter and suddenly some Dixie Chicks song I don’t know at all…CRASH the music stops and the frantic sound of tiny yet determined footsteps can be heard, getting closer, along with that all too familiar, sinister cackling…suddenly quiet, and the rapid sucking sound of a straw, followed by the definitive sound...POP…CRASH! Destructicus has re-fuelled and has begun tearing books off her shelves again, muttering all the while.

I sneak up and peek around the corner and see a pile of books, an overturned toy bin, and Howard the Tiger drowning in the sea it has created. She doesn’t see me…I gather my wits and peer around the corner again...her head is buried in the toy bin, flinging whatever is left randomly into the assortment on the bedroom floor. I retract one more time, plotting my next move…
In last gasp, I peer around the corner again, and say” Peak”…this time she has clearly spotted me! She drops whatever she is doing and rushes towards me arms outstretched. I grab her and fling her into the air, and bask in her toothy grin and happy squealing as the wave of annihilation comes to an abrupt end...I love my little Destructicus!

Jason Darby is a sports blogger, musician and most significantly the proud father of a beautiful 1-year-old daughter. He currently works in the academic publishing industry and is working on a book about the Maple Leafs and the pilot for a sitcom currently titled “The Shop”. He spends much of his spare time watching the Detroit Tigers with his little girl. Come back often to read his musings on raising a child from a father’s perspective. Please leave comments for Jason on this blog! You can also reach Jason on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/darbyjason

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  1. Nevan is constantly sticking his hands in the toilet. It grosses me out. He also goes for the garbage. What's with that?


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