Tuesday, September 16, 2008

I don't work at Hooters.

We've taught my son many things in his three and a half years of life. It was a common enough progression: First, we taught him the names of objects (door, apple, hat). Later, we taught him numbers, letters, colors. Then we taught him the 50 states, and other such things. Now, though, we're sort of stuck in limbo as we halt the teaching process and struggle with trying to unteach him something he mistakenly picked up from his well-meaning father: We're trying, with sporadic success, to teach him that his mommy doesn't work at Hooters.

There's nothing wrong with Hooters, I suppose, other than the crappy food. But since I don't work there, I don't need him telling his teacher and classmates at the Mother's Day Out he attends two days a week that I work at Hooters. I don't want him tell his grandma and great-grandma that. I don't want him telling anyone that. Not because I'm anti-Hooters. But because I DON'T WORK AT HOOTERS.

It started like this: We live near a Hooters. My husband, like most men, gets all slack-jawed and inexplicably happy at the mere sight of the sign as we pass it on the highway, so he cheerfully threw it into the rotation of objects to point at and identify for Jake as we drove to and fro. "Look, Jake, there's a water tower! There's a gas station! There's Hooters!" He was rewarded with Jake then subsequently naming these items on his own thereafter. "Look, Dada! Dere's a wata towa! Dere's a gah tation! Dere's Hoodahs!" Brian was so cheered by the sound of the word "Hoodas" coming from his son's mouth that his excited response to Jake's observations telegraphed to my son that this was indeed something noteworthy.

So far so good, and pretty cute. But then.

Apparently one day as Jake and Brian were in the car by themselves, Brian took the extra step of informing Jake that "Hooters is where the pretty girls work." He only said it one time, apparently, but Jake remembers every single thing you tell him except how to put his underwear on correctly.

Backing up a bit, I'll tell you one more thing about Jake. He tells me I'm "pitty" about ten times a day. He got this from Brian, too. Brian often tells me I'm pretty, and Jake started copying him maybe a year ago. Never mind that Jake also thinks that ugly tramp Dora The Explorer is pretty; I take my compliments where I get them, and I appreciate them no matter how limited the judgement of the giver may be. So I always say, "Thank you, that's such a nice thing to say."

Recently Jake's standard, "Mama, you're pitty," has morphed into, "Mama, you're pitty, you work at Hoodas." I tell him, "No, I don't work at Hooters. I teach at the gym." He knows I work at the gym because he goes there with me 5 days a week, but still he refuses to accept what I'm saying. "No, you're pitty, and the pitty girls work at Hoodas." Not wishing to disparage the fine, upstanding ladies of Hooters, but also not wishing to be lumped in among them, I struggle to find a diplomatic way to correct him. "No, honey, skanks work at Hooters," was not the way to go. Instead, I tell him that not all pretty girls work at Hooters--but he holds his ground. He has even gone so far to tell me that his grandma is pretty, and that she works at Hooters. Again, not something I want him spreading around the playground. It's a rumor that's not good for me and his grandma, and it could throw Hooters into financial ruin.

I was having no luck retraining his brain myself, so I earnestly requested Brian's help. "You better convince that kid that I don't work at Hooters, or I'm going to tell him Daddy supports his meth habit by blowing guys at the bus station." So Brian began putting his best effort into changing Jake's mind.

After a couple of days of "Mommy doesn't work at Hooters" speeches, Jake changed his tune. Now he tells me, quite frequently, "Mama, you're pitty. I know you don't work at Hoodas." He will say it that way maybe 3 times in a row, with the 4th one sounding like this: "Mama, you're pitty. I know you don't work at Hoodas. But you DO work at Hoodas!" Gak. Like all men, Jake is obsessed with Hooters.

The moral of the story, which I hope Brian has learned by now, is not to tell a 3-year old anything at all. Communicating with them by facial expression and football flags should be sufficient, and much safer. Which is why I plan to never let Jake know that on the weekends I work as a stripper at Big Bob's House of Poon.

31 comments:

acw said...

Yeah, because there's nothing hotter than a bunch of skanks serving mediocre wings and shitty beer in weird orange pantyhose.

It's the weirdest fetish that ever spawned a restaurant, and that includes the necrobestiality that gave McDonald's their start. It's true, look it up.

/brandon\ said...

My kids think I work at a malt liquor distributorship. I can't imagine why.

drowninginlaundry said...

I hope my son never learns that I used to work at Hooters....... I am sure his well meaning father will bring it up one day.

Brian Sweat said...

Sorry, Jake got confused. I said his "new mommy" works at Hooters :)

dan said...

It's like when I told little Zachy, 3.5 years old, that mommy works with guide dogs. Next thing you know he's telling the dentist that libertarians should be castrated. It's hard to see how he got there, but it's so cute I'm not inclined to correct him. Frankly the neighborhood is awash with anarchist offspring and a bit of political eugenics might do some good.

Still waiting for our Hooters, but I can turn you on to some nifty asian massage studios around here that keep surprisingly late hours, if you feel like putting the "moon" in "moonlighting".

Mighty Dyckerson said...

You pregnant babbler!!! I think it's quite obvious that when little Joke called you pitty, he meant pitiful.

Besides, Common Dingbat and his man boobs have a better chance at landing a job at Hooters than you and your A-cups. Not that I wouldn't do you anyway.

Lyvvie said...

My favourite story of the day which of course I shared with all my friends over coffee. Of course I had to explain what Hooters was first, but they found it funny.

Is that really your husband up there? you should smack him. *lol*

Shaken Mama said...

I told you you weaned him too early.

Maybe he could have his birthday party there?

nita said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
stupormom said...

I was obsessed with Court TV when it first started. I watched a whole trial about a girl suing Hooters because of the outfit she had to wear. I kept saying to myself, "It's HOOTERS, you dumb bitch!"

She lost. I guess you took her slot ;)

karla said...

acw: I did a Google search for McDonalds and necrobestialiy, and Karlababble was the #1 hit, thanks to your comment and the sad lack of McDonald's necrobestiality out there on the web.

drowninginlaundry: I would most definitely have worked at Hooters back when I was still flirting-for-tips cute. It would have been better than the crappy waitressing and bartending jobs I had, but there was no Hooters in Shithole, Missouri.

Dyckie: Aw. Don't be so bitter; there are lots of men in their late 30s who haven't lost their virginity yet.

Lyvvie: Yes, that's my husband who commented about "new mommy." Well, my first husband, that is.

OldHorsetailSnake said...

Now I know why I figured out that your being "pitty" would get you in trouble. Unfortunately, it wasn't with me. So it goes.....

Crazy MomCat said...

We had this when my husband thought it was funny to teach my then 2 year old that those funny circles on boys and girls chests were called "nickels." Now, anytime I change or shower and my 4 yr old is around, I hear her say, "Mommy... I see your nickels!" Lovely...

Mighty Dyckerson said...

You pregnant babbler!! Shows how much you know. I'm in my MID 30's.

NOW who's the stupid one??

Mr. Poopie said...

I KNEW that was you on the pole at Big Bob's, I'd recognize those nickels anywhere!

delmer said...

I live within two miles of a Hooters and I've been to it maybe three times.

The food is just not that good. I'm too old to comfortably oogle 20-somethings.

tfg said...

Big Bob's House of Poon?!?

I take it that you were fired from Penicillin Pagoda again.

jill said...

Did we work together at the House of Poon? I was there 1998 - 2003. And regarding "work" I just try and make my son understand that work=bad and I DO NOT WORK. I turn in glass for 5 cents a pound at the recycle station, I cut coupons and put small items inside my coat pockets, and if necessary, I will LIVE off my home equity line of credit. But Work!? No way.

CommonWombat said...

Yes, the pretty girls work at Hooters, and yes, you are pretty.

Just explain to Jake that you are also a semi-post-op transsexual and you adopted him and his sister in a sad attempt to get over the trauma of your botched gender reassignment surgery. Therefore, you are not technically a girl and are ineligible for employment at Hooters.

If he doesn't believe you, show him your balls. I mean, at this point he's probably the only man in the Dallas/Fort Worth area who HASN'T seen them.

honeykbee said...

So what if word on the street is that you work at Hoodahs? As if there aren't worse rumors about you (AND your mom) out there on the interwebz ?

Oops A Baby said...

Hilarious! 3 year olds are so fantastic.

Lee said...

The solution, as far as I see it, is simple. Teach him other places pretty ladies work. Think of it - you could be anything!

Pitty lady works in the mayor's office.
Pitty lady works as an astronaut.
Pitty ladies are lumberjackwomen.

Sounds like a strange series of kid books when listed like that, which, in turn, would give that tramp Dora a run for her money...

Sassy Blondie said...

I once got roped into eating at a Hooters with a group of people who seem to like the wings. I wasn't uncomfortable with all the T & A until one of my former students was our waitress...

Tiggerlane said...

"You better convince that kid that I don't work at Hooters, or I'm going to tell him Daddy supports his meth habit by blowing guys at the bus station."

OMG. Best. Line. EVAH.

I still wish the kid would tell everyone that Grandma works at Hooter's. THAT is funny. Screw MILF, that's GILF!

Jack said...

I'm too old to comfortably oogle 20-somethings.

For shame, one is never too old to give that up. That is what sunglasses were invented for.

Maja said...

My mother in law gave her son a hooters beanie. He LOVES it. We don't even have hooters in Australia.

Boomer Chick said...

LOL, what a hoot! I've been to Hooters maybe one time. Felt so damn uncomfortable in there with everyone else's boobies hanging out and mine were the only ones hanging down. You would think that would have some clout but nope.

Neptunebaby said...

Where the hell have you been, girl?? It's been over a month since you posted. That's too long. I'm having withdrawals!

Deutlich said...

this entire post made me giggle out loud.

loudly.

kristie said...

HA!!! funny!!!!

Booya said...

I like Jake, never met him, but I like him! And the meth habit line almost cost me a new laptop. Because this one is covered in water.