Being led by Mr. Soft Pants.

I no longer have to pay attention when I’m driving. Boy tells me to stop when the light is red. My mind is then free to wander and ponder the cloud formations until the Boy shrieks with impatience at the first glimpse of green. I turn when he says’ “turn Daddy” or go this way when he says’ “this way Daddy”. I never actually get where I’m going anymore but I don’t have to think either and that’s a better reward. It’s also nice to see how much he is becoming like his Mommy (my Beautiful Bride) with all his backseat driving.

The boy won’t wear any pants but sweat pants. He calls them soft pants. We used to only have two pairs and one of them was too short. It was WAR on the days that they were in the wash. The jeans, khakis and cargos (aka hard pants) simply will not do. The good news is he is much more independent with the potty when he wears the soft pants. I went to Old Navy and got him eight pairs with pockets. He is Mr. Softpotty Casual now.

It’s all O.K.

I picked Boy up the other day and his hard pants were wet. I said, “Did you wet your pants?” He said, “YEAH! It’s OK Daddy!”

Boy knows that the remote control is verboten. One morning I found the remote in twenty pieces all over the living room floor. I gave the Boy a hard stare, “Did you break Daddy’s remote?” I queried. “YEAH! It’s OK Daddy!” he tossed off.

I am wing man.

We go to the Airport and watch the planes take off and land. We applaud each successful take off and guide each landing with a chant of “steady, steady, steady” until it touches the ground.

The other day there was a little girl that was the same age as the Boy. She had a toy airplane and was waving it around to mimic the movements of the real ones. She was hanging her arms over the fence that I never let the Boy hang on. When he noticed her it was like an electric shock over took him. He instantly grabbed my hand and dragged me to within five feet of her. He planted me off to the side, pulled his soft pants up (no kidding) and sauntered over to her. When he got close to her he made sure he got a little too close so that she couldn’t help but notice him. He stuck his neck out in her space, smiled and said “I a big boy!” The poor little girl was overwhelmed and ran to her Daddy. Boy looked back at me and shrugged his shoulders “It’s OK Daddy!”

And me too.

When we decorated our Christmas tree, BB and I pointed out all the ornaments that meant something to us. “This is from the first Christmas Mommy and Daddy were Married” BB glowed. “And me too.” Boy glowed back. “This was before you, when it was just Daddy and I.” “And me too.” “Just Daddy and Mommy!” “Daddy, Mommy and me too.”

I drove with Boy past our old apartment and stopped to take in all the old memories as they came flooding back. “This is where Mommy and Daddy lived before you were born. We used to swim in that pool and laugh at the crazy lady who lived across from us. I climbed up that tree when I was locked out once and Mommy almost killed me with a baseball bat.” I explained. “And me too.” He explained further. “This was before you were born”, I taught him. “Yeah. Before Mommy, Daddy and me were born”, he lectured me.

I’ve since inserted the Boy into all my memories. Now there truly never was a time without him. He was around when I was in kindergarten and was crushing on Rose. He told me to kick Sr Phyllis on her heiny. He held my hand when Grandma died and said "it's o.k. Daddy." He gave me the courage to leave my job as a bartender in New York City and take a chance and move to Los Angeles. He showed me my dreams were possible. He stood with me on my Wedding Day and we smiled as the most beautiful girl in the world said "I Do." He winked at me when he was born. Things I'll never forget

potty talk

un film de spodaddy

photobooth II

Un film de SPODADDY

carplay

Un film de Spodaddy...

SPARK

What is that spark? Where does it come from?

I have days and weeks where my flesh and bones hang heavy. I am a ball of desperate, stressed and awkward energy. I second-guess myself on everything because I need things too badly. I can see myself coming from a mile away. So can the Cops. I get parking tickets. I get summonses in the mail with pictures of me driving through red lights. I have been known to get jaywalking tickets. I have even been known to get jaywalking tickets in front of the courthouse on my way to argue a summons. I don’t do well at my auditions. Money is scarce. I even say the wrong thing in social situations. Like “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” to an unpregnant woman or “I look as bad as Mr. Tuttle in that photo!” not realizing Mrs. Tuttle is right behind me.

Then suddenly the spark sparks.

The road opens up and I start making lights on my commute to and from auditions. A luminescent quality starts to burn away the shadows in me. Kraft American cheese slices go on sale. My slippers stay together and within reach. The Boy starts to tell everyone in Two-onics that I am his Daddy. My Beautiful Bride starts to eyeball me like I’m a hunk of Teenage Vampire. When I take my shirt off, her eyes widen, like I’m more a buff Teenage Werewolf than a pigeon chested Teenage Vampire. At my auditions I stop acting and start being. I book jobs. I get thick envelopes in the mail from my Talent Agent filled with residual glee. I have to keep looking down to make sure my feet are grounded and not floating off. Even I turn my head whenever I walk in to a room. I become fluent in pop culture and can talk Lady Goo Goo or I Am Sam with the best of them. I am charming and sincere. It’s awesome!

Oh spark I love you. I am enjoying the ride. I wish I knew what brought you on. I wish I could bottle you and drink from you whenever things get too real.

Irish Boys to Irish music plus a cupcake

Lights Out

I had an Audition. It was for an Ace Hardware Commercial. The premise was a man painting his Deck and talking about how he wants to get the job done quickly and spend time with his family. The Boy was with me and wanted in on the action so I held him while I “acted”. As the words “spend time with my family” were flying out of my mouth the boy rested his head on my shoulder. The guy running the camera laughed his head off. When did The Boy learn to act? Who’s fooling whom here?

I told this story to another actor. He told me acting was the family business. It’s only natural that after almost two years of going to Daddy’s Auditions that he would pick up on the craft himself. If I were a plumber, The Boy would, of course, learn how to plumb. It doesn’t mean he will grow up to be a plumber. I love that idea.

Later that night at the dinner table Beautiful Bride told The Boy that she was going to make chocolate chip cookies. I took that as a cue to play out a big miming routine. I put pretend cookie dough on an imaginary baking sheet. The Boy seemed puzzled by this. I opened up the fake oven door and placed the imaginary baking sheet carefully into the preheated fake oven. This put a troubled expression on The Boy. I set my fictitious timer for ten minutes and it immediately sounded a make believe buzzer. The Boy tried not to giggle at my concocted alarm and remained stern. I then scraped the pretend cookies off of the imaginary baking sheet onto a make believe plate. I blew on the mythically hot pretend cookies and cautioned The Boy to wait until they mythically cooled. He waited about five seconds with a real blank expression. He then picked up the make believe plate of pretend cookies and threw it across the actual room.

At bath time we played motorboat. I submerged my lips in the water and blew to create the sound and wake of an actual motorboat. The Boy laughed and filled up a cup with bath water and poured it over my head. I made sinking noises as if it were a direct hit and the motorboat would be lost. I filled my mouth up with the bath water and sprayed it along the tiled wall as I let my head sink further down. Mercifully, the giggling Boy grabbed my head from the abyss and saved the motorboat from pending doom. We played this out about ten times before I gave him to his Mother BB to prepare for bed. As BB was about to put on his pajama bottoms she asked The Boy to go pee pee. “I already did go pee pee in the bathtub, Mommy.” He said.

At the callback for Ace Hardware, some days later, The Boy did not want to have any of it. The Director asked me to bring Boy with me so I did. As I tried to say my lines this time, the Boy screamed “No Talking Daddy!” over and over again. I flubbed my lines and started to feel a panic come over me. I picked him up for the next take and he proceeded to flail his arms and legs pleading, “No touch my body!” Another blown take. Finally I occupied him with one of his racecars. He drove the car along the wall in the back of the room while I at last started to get through a good performance. Suddenly all the lights went out in the room. The Boy shut the lights off. Everyone laughed. On the long walk home I felt shell-shocked. How could something go so wrong? The Boy was oblivious to all my internal drama and we played the rest of the day away. I quietly mourned the lost opportunity and income.

The next day I booked the Ace Hardware Commercial. The day after that my agent called and asked if I’d be willing to allow The Boy to be in the Commercial with me, because they want to book him too. I said, “YES!” We will be filming it this week.

I’m speechless!