At the bottom of each of my posts is a short list of some of the things that I’ve been called over the years. There are actually a lot more, but for the sake of time and space, I only put four of them down. I guess I don’t have to explain any of them, but I will talk a little bit about the last one: a bad influence.
I’ve been told by a few people that I’ve had some kind of influence on their lives. My wife, for instance, will come home from work and tell me about a smartass or sarcastic comment that she had made that day (which she wouldn’t normally make), and have to explain it off as, “I’ve been around my husband too long.” I tend to find these stories highly amusing because the responses are usually something I would say. She doesn’t consider this to be a “bad” influence, although maybe other people would. Overall, I may not be the best person in the world, but I don’t think I make the people around me worse.
Then, I did something yesterday that may have proven myself wrong.
I had some free time yesterday afternoon, so I cut my hair (it’s a lot cheaper and easier for me to just do it myself). Afterwards, I hopped in the shower to wash off all the loose hair. I got dressed as soon as I got out of the shower.
Before I did all of that, I was wearing a white shirt that just had the Carolina Panthers logo on it. When I was getting dressed again, I grabbed a white shirt, thinking it was the one I was wearing before. Because I wasn’t paying attention, I didn’t realize until later that it wasn’t.
Not long after I got dressed, there was a knock on the door. It was Baby A and Baby B, who were leading Baby C. They were out on a walk with Twindaddy (who was next door at our mom’s house). My doctor has been pestering me to exercise more, saying that if I lose weight, my back won’t hurt as much (personally, I think she’s full of shit because I’ve lost about 50 lbs since I found out that Mrs. Revis was pregnant with Baby E, and my back hurts just as much, if not more, now than it did before I lost that weight). We decided to walk with them, got Baby E into her stroller, and began walking around the neighborhood.
Twindaddy had Baby C a little bit ahead of us, while the twins hung out with Baby E (who they adore. It’s so cute). The sidewalks in our neighborhood aren’t that great, so I had to spend most of my time looking forward, so I wouldn’t get the stroller stuck in a hole. From off to the side, I heard one of them (I don’t remember which one it was now. They both ended up asking me about it) say, “Uncle Revis, what does that mean, ‘Touch my monkey’?”
I was momentarily speechless. A thousand things were running through my head: Did he actually just say that to me? Where did he get that from? Ummmmmm, what?!?!?!?!
I took my eyes off of the sidewalk for a few seconds to look over at him, and that’s when I saw that he was looking at my shirt. I had to look at it then, too. It was not my Panthers shirt. It was this shirt.
Dammit! I made up some lame answer on the spot and told them, then tried to quickly change the subject. Obviously, they didn’t buy it. Halfway through our second, and final, lap, we had caught up to Twindaddy and they asked again. I was expecting to get an “I’m gonna kick your ass” look from him, but he just told them that it was a joke and they should drop it. I’m hoping they didn’t immediately Google it when they got home, otherwise that’ll be another thing their mother blames me for (which is something she does a lot, from what I’ve heard).
I knew I was going to have to go through my shirts sooner or later, to get rid of all of the ones like that one, which is not something children should see. I just didn’t think it’d have to be this soon. My wife pointed out that it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been wearing this shirt.