Child Abuse or the Building of a Champion? You Be the Judge. But Don't Judge Me Because I'm Definately Doing What's Best for the Boy Long Term...

When is too much, too much? That's a tough call and one that should be considered with thoughtfulness and compassion. I have neither one of those qualities, so the question means nothing to me. I strive for greatness. I want my children to piss excellence or at least Kool Aid (cause that would be cool). So when people (friends, family, clergy, etc.) ask me if maybe I'm pushing my youngest son a little too hard, I give my patented blank stare and keep my laser focus. Eyes on the prize baby. If you want your child to be a great reader: you get them a book. If you want your child to be great at math: you get them a calculator. If you want your three month old to be the greatest Nintendo Wii player ever: you duct tape Wii remotes to his chubby little hands, put him in his bouncy, flip on the vibrate mode for maximum comfort and let the training begin! Hey, I don't wanna hear from you tree hugging hippie liberals about that being an inappropriate way to develop a child. Go knit a quilt or something. I read once, in a real book, that Andre Agassi's father taped a ping-pong paddle to little Andre's right hand and fed him balls all day long, at like six months old! Now that's a father that showed his tennis prodigy of a son some love. Some attention. Some career development. Andre turned out fine. Married Brook Shields. Dumped her, upgraded and married Stefi Graf. Is your kid gonna marry either one of those chicks? No. No, I don't think your child will. Your kid won't marry either one of them because you haven't (and won't) tape anything to your kids hands or feet and force them (in a loving way) to become something more. Something better. As you can clearly see from the photo above, he loves it, he can't get enough of it. One of these days my son is gonna come to me and tell me how I, "made his life better" or "thanks dad, you're awesome" or "dad I still have no feeling in my left hand" or any of a number of great compliments that will make my heart swell up with pride. I hope your child isn't a loser. I hope your child is a winner like my son will be. I hope you have a game plan for your child that's as well shaped as my plan. It's easy just letting your kid live in a loving home, go to a nice school, have good social skills, go to college, become the CEO of a fortune 500 company, buy a nice luxury car (like a Honda Civic or a Toyota Tercel) so they can eventually vacation in Aspen or Haysville or somewhere like that. That's easy. Try the hard part of parenting. Try making your three month old a champion. A champion at anything. Yeah try that! Have you ever met a three month old? They eat, sleep, poop, pee and cry. That's it. But not my little champion. Hell to the no. My son eats, sleeps, poops, pees, cries and plays Wii Baseball like mutherf-ing Willie Mays. Calling SRS on me and questioning whether or not I take good care of my child, when his oblivious mother is at work, isn't gonna stop me. Now excuse me, I need to tape the Wii steering wheel to my boy's hands, we have six hours of Mario Kart training before his nap. If he doesn't cut three seconds off his time trial, he gets no mid afternoon bottle. Now that's fidelity...