Turning a boy into a Man

Now that Q-dog has a little brother I thought it high time that he start taking on the challenges of manhood.  Do you think your son's two year old birthday is too early to buy him his first gun?  I thought it would be a nice bonding experience.  You know killing things together and then gutting them.  Nothing says BFF's like getting two hands bloody.  I was trying to remember back when my dad got me my first BB gun.  I'm sure I was too young. Too young to remember so I suppose it was the right age.  I know one of the things I did with it was shoot my younger brother in the booty so clearly irresponsible enough, but likely older than 2.  Ultimately I decided a gun, even a BB gun, was probably not the right gift.  Okay, so what else can we do?  Got it.  We need to fix up the car.  Nothing says man better than greased up boys.

I did a little research online and found the local auto parts store.  I needed to winterize the engines that will sit all winter, get some new windshield wipers as they will have to tackle more destructive elements than rain this year, a new air filter and some funnels to dump a minimal amount of toxic chemicals or fossil fuels as some may call them into the Earth.  I picked up my son, soon to be a man, and loaded him into the car.  Along the few mile drive I taught him how to grunt like a man so when we got to the store he could act appropriately.  Not sure how to write the sweet sweet sound of grunting on paper.  Let me give it a shot so you can feel like you too were strapped in beside these men among men.  Grrrrrr, nope that's not it.  Hunnnn.  No, that doesn't really capture the moment either.  Ernnnnnn.  Well, that sounds like constipation.  Last try....Hurnnnernnnn, hurrnernnn, herrnnn.  That's pretty close.  Quinny was having a ball in the backseat grunting his way one hrrenurrn at a time into manhood. 

Practice completed we were ready to enter the store on a delightful Saturday morning. There was a tow truck in the lot revving it's engine.  Hurenenenr!  Hureennrrn!  Oh, ya this is gonna be great.  We walk into the store.  Q, dude!, get the pacifier out of your mouth.  Geez, you're totally blowing it!  Immediately the woman at the counter asks how old he is.  18.  He's a man.  Why?  Looking for a date?  Hurrennnr! She asks what we're looking for.  We give her the eye, wink and reply - trouble.  That's right honey I said trouble.  Know where I can find any? After Q was done flirting (I'm a married man you know) we spread out looking for the goods.  We had a pretty decent list and trying to find just the right part wasn't going to be easy.  Quinny was doing his part grabbing anything within reach, taking it out of its respective box, examining it, ultimately deciding it wasn't the right part and tossing it aside in the middle of the aisle.  Hurernnrerun!  That's right baby I do what I want.  Herurernnn!

After 30 minutes we gathered just about everything we needed.  The lady from behind the counter tracks us down and asks us if we have everything.  Hereunnr! She helps us take our man goods up to the counter and continues to flirt continuously with Quentin. Clearly, all that man practice in the car was paying off big time.  And I mean big time.  All Quinny had to do was ask for her digits and she would've melted right there next to the brake pads. But no he was playing it cool. He had the car to go home and work on.  The babe could wait.  Hereurrn! Playin' hard to get?  That's all man right there.  This kid was oozing cool. And with that he flipped his collar, walked out the front door, grabbed his bah, popped it in and strapped himself in for the ride home.  We revved the engine in the parking lot for effect.  Herenunnrn! Peeled out and headed home. 

We grunted out way all the way home with the excitement of getting greasy barely containable.  Hereunnrn! Upon reaching our destination and with the hood already popped open we grabbed our tools, one in each hand. Huerennr! Huernnr! Herurnern! We replaced the air filter, ditched the washed up wipers, installed the new ones, spilled gas multiple times all over the garage floor (not our house! Herurn!) - little dude don't inhale that, well okay just a little - alright that's enough -seriously enough, and got the engines winterized.  Like any good man moment we wiped our hands on our shirts, grabbed a man beverage, Busch Light, and quenched the thirst of acting like a man that only a Busch can cure.  It was official, Quinny was now a man.  And all before his second birthday.  He went inside and put on some man clothes flicked on nascar, kicked up his feet and called it a Saturday.  See picture.  I cannot wait for more man moments with the Qster.