I got to witness your first F bomb at the ripe age of 3 and a half. It was epic and memorable for so many reasons.
We were halfway through a ski day, riding up the Discovery Chair together at Crystal Mountain. The lift runs parallel to a small jump park and provides some entertainment on the ride up as novice skiers and snowboarders throw small tricks and, more often than not, crash.
We saw one snowboarder land a 360 spin off a jump and yell “Fuck yeah!” in bro-ish celebration.
“That guy said, ‘Fuck yeah,” you turned and told me, in curious reaction.
Yep, he said “Huck yeah,” I replied, in parental overcorrection and appropriately inspired by the Matchstick Productions ski film of the same family-friendly name.
“No, he said ‘Fuck yeah.’ Like Ffff,” you rebutted. “What does that mean?”
“Well, you have your helmet on so it’s hard to hear,” I said. “So anyway, he said ‘Huck yeah’ and it means totally awesome!”
You finally relented: “Huck yeah. Awesome! Huck yeah.”
That was a special father-son bonding experience.
What has me saying “What the huck” recently is your silly, primal tendency to hide and eat snacks.
I know your metabolism is off the charts, but on top of the 2,000 calories you eat a day in front of us, you have gotten into the habit of stealing “mommy bars” (Larabars), Clif Kids bars and any form of candy from cabinets, purses and backpacks and eat them in hiding for an extra 500 to 1,000 calories. We only find the wrappers as evidence.
I understand why you take them. You get hangry before any meal time and can’t wait long enough for cooked food. You let us know about your hunger by grumpy comments and wildly swinging arms and legs, before your snack espionage. Of course, that snack appetizer makes you a poor eater at mealtimes, causing you to be hungry again later and continuing the virtuous cycle of snacking.
This is all about timing, and we’ll get your body clock calibrated for normal meals soon enough. Until then, huck it. Enjoy your snacks.
Love, Dad