Quick order of business: If you've read and enjoyed Alternadad, please feel free to meander over to its Amazon page today and drop a review. The revolution appreciates your efforts. Plus, Hodgman is getting lonely.

Elijah-related content after the bump.

Elijah has an archenemy of sorts at his preschool. I will call this boy Tarzan to protect his identity. Their conflict began even before Elijah started at the school, when we spent a few hours hanging out to get him acclimated to the playground. Within the first ten minutes, Tarzan threw sand in Elijah's eyes. Since then, there have been many arguments and several violent battles.

But lately, Elijah had been asking, even begging, for a play date with Tarzan. We were reluctant, even though we like Tarzan's parents and we're always desperate for something to fill those twilight hours between school and before dinner. After weeks of prevaricating and fake excuses like "Tarzan has a dentist's appointment," I sent an email to Tarzan's mom. We set something at Tarzan's house for Wednesday.

Regina drew the short straw and had to do the play date while I stayed home to monitor my Amazon ranking. I called her every 15 minutes, seeking a report and anticipating bloodshed. But all was smooth. Elijah and Tarzan found that they shared an affinity for Break The Ice. It's always a good idea to have rivals play a game whose main object is smashing things.

Sundown approached. Regina told Elijah it was time to put on his shoes and socks.

"We need to go home and eat dinner with daddy," she said.

"Can we have chicken?" Elijah asked.

"We don't have chicken," said Regina.

"Awww, maaaaan," Elijah said.

Tarzan said, "We don't have chicken either."

But Elijah heard him wrong. His voice trembled with a terrible mix of fear, grief, and anger.

"NO! I DO LIKE CHICKEN!" he said.

Tarzan sensed an opportunity, and he pounced, opening up the gates of hell.

"No you don't," he said.

"YES I DO! I DO LIKE CHICKEN!"

"NO YOU DON'T!"

"I DO!"

"YOU DON'T!"

Now they were both screaming, and pointing, their faces turning red and sweaty, as though they were possessed by an evil spirit, a poultrygeist, as it were.

"Wow," Regina said.

"YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE!" Elijah screamed.

Tarzan replied with, "YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE!"

"NO! YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND!"

"YOU WILL NEVER BE MY FRIEND AGAIN!"

Tarzan's mom and Regina looked at each other with that special understanding that only mothers of four-year-old boys can share. At any minute, they understood, the simplest, most pleasurable activity can turn into Norma Desmond threatening suicide. You're never more than a few seconds from a hysterical meltdown. And neither is your kid.

"You can still be my friend," said Tarzan's mother.

"Thank you," Regina said.

The next morning, I took Elijah to school. Tarzan was sitting at his cubbyhole, doing something extremely important.

"Hey, Tarzan," Elijah said.

"What?"said Tarzan.

"Got any chicken?"

Posted by at 1:02 AM | Permalink