Leave It To Beaver

(THIS MORNING'S EXAMPLE OF WHY I WON'T BE MISTAKEN FOR BEAVER CLEAVER'S DAD)

I said to our 12-year-old son, "Jon, would you please feed the dogs."

He went from extremely animated and happy to mopey in the blink of an eye. After our son shuffled down to the basement and got the dog food, Jon still walked around like he was auditioning for a zombie roll in The Walking Dead.

I said, "Jesus, Jon... would you quit acting so friggin' morose. First you were all happy and just because you had to feed the dogs, now you're in a bad mood."

Jon replied, "Yeah but dad, I just came from the basement and you told me to go back down to get the dog food. You could have asked me BEFORE I went down the first time."

(AND HERE'S THE POINT WHERE THE BEAVE'S DAD WOULD HAVE TAKEN A DIFFERENT APPROACH)

I said, "Yes. I agree. I should have asked you before you had gone down the first time but I hadn't thought about it. Fuck, Jon, I just asked you to feed the damn dogs, not to cut off your left nut."