For the past month or so Young Master Sean, our three, but soon to be four-year-old son, has made it his life’s mission to go to Disney World. He wants to head south to the land Walt made in a big way. And, why he chose Disney World over Disneyland, I’ll never know. In fact, I don’t know how he came up with the idea in the first place.
I have never been to a Disney anything that I can recollect. Thanks to Grandma Rush I did get to see Oopsie the Clown in downtown Detroit in the late 1960s. And, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention going to see ‘Skipper? the dolphin (no not ‘Flipper), the Harlem Globe-trotters and Mr. Whoodini (who, if my memory serves me correct, was the magician from the local Bozo The Clown Show). While I like lots of Disney movies, Disney attractions seem to be a big, big way to suck big, big bucks from folks who like talking mice, ducks, dogs and a thing called Goofy.
Upon further introspection Sean’s favorite cartoon is Buzz Lightyear of Star Command. Buzz and friends are aired on the cable network Toon Disney. I couldn’t say for sure, but I’d bet a hefty sum that Sean has been bombarded with pro-Disneyland propaganda. That’s irrelevant to this story.
Back on point, Sean has been bustin? his butt and my chops trying to get to Disney World.
Every night before bedtime, ‘Poppy, I want to go to Disney World.?
‘Well, that sounds like fun, Sean. Save your pennies and when you get older we can go. Good night,? was my usual response.
This banter went on for several nights with a new Sean twist on why we should go each night, but ending each night with yours truly telling Sean he’ll have to wait until he gets older. On the last night of his pleading he changed gears one more time. His last ditch effort in making it to the Promised Land, was:
‘Poppy, I want to go to Disney World while I’m still cute,? then he flashed a big Cheshire cat smile.
Shut up and go to sleep kid.
* * *
Dear wife Jen and I were in the living room watching adult TV (anything that is not Buzz Lightyear or cartoonish) when six-year-old Shamus announced he had some great news.
‘I just finished my first no-picture book,? he said proudly. Yes, our boy has joined the club of folks who read books that have no pictures. We knew the book he was talking about. It’s about kids in karate. The 136-page book with 11 chapters is titled, ‘Fight For Honor,? written by Carin Greenburg Becker.
Jen and I both started the congratulations when we looked at each other, then to the LED clock on the VCR. In bluish-green luminescence the clock showed 9:44. It was a smackin? frackin? quarter to 10 in the night and Shamus was supposed to be in bed — a place he went to at 8 p.m.
‘What the — it’s almost 10 o’clock,? his mom said.
‘You’ve got school tomorrow, bub. Get your butt back in bed,? I said.
I think what came across to Shamus? sensitive ears was, ‘Shut up and go to sleep kid.? Feelings hurt, he turned and with a walk that shouted ‘dejection? headed to his and Sean’s bedroom.
We got up from our rears, turned our attention from President Martin Sheen (who was saving the world from certain nuclear annihilation), went to his room and gave Shamus the credit he deserved, ending with ‘now, get to sleep!?
* * *
I surprised myself by using the words ‘shut? and ‘up? together just now. We never use ‘shut up? at home. And, the boys know it.
Not too long ago the boys were playing together by themselves in a room with no adult supervision (I was in the hallway, outside the doorway). As I was heading (unannounced, as is a parent’s perogative) into the room Sean said with a hushed voice, ‘Shut up Shamie.?
As he completed his sentence he looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. He bowed his head, deep in sorrow, because he knew he had been busted (not for what he had done).
‘Tell Shamus you’re sorry and go stand in the corner. We don’t say ‘shut up? in this house,? was all I had to say. He did what he was told without a fuss and all was right in the world for another five minutes.
Comments to Papa Don can be e-mailed to: dontrushmedon@aol.com

A blast from the past is usually fun. I think you like this column, from February 18, 2004.
* * *
For the past month or so Young Master Sean, our three, but soon to be four-year-old son, has made it his life’s mission to go to Disney World. He wants to head south to the land Walt made in a big way. And, why he chose Disney World over Disneyland, I’ll never know. In fact, I don’t know how he came up with the idea in the first place.
I have never been to a Disney anything that I can recollect. Thanks to Grandma Rush I did get to see Oopsie the Clown in downtown Detroit in the late 1960s. And, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention going to see ‘Skipper? the dolphin (no not ‘Flipper), the Harlem Globe-trotters and Mr. Whoodini (who, if my memory serves me correct, was magician from the local Bozo The Clown Show). While I like lots of Disney movies, Disney attractions seem to be a big, big way to suck big, big bucks from folks who like talking mice, ducks, dogs and a thing called Goofy.
Upon further introspection Sean’s favorite cartoon is Buzz Lightyear of Star Command. Buzz and friends are aired on the cable network Toon Disney. I couldn’t say for sure, but I’d bet a hefty sum that Sean has been bombarded with pro-Disneyland propaganda. That’s irrelevant to this story.
Back on point, Sean has been bustin? his butt and my chops trying to get to Disneyworld.
Every night before bedtime, ‘Poppy, I want to go to Disney World.?
‘Well, that sounds like fun, Sean. Save your pennies and when you get older we can go. Good night,? was my usual response.
This banter went on for several nights with a new Sean twist on why we should go each night, but ending each night with yours truly telling Sean he’ll have to wait until he gets older. On the last night of his pleading he changed gears one more time. His last ditch effort in making it to the Promised Land, was:
‘Poppy, I want to go to Disneyworld while I’m still cute,? then he flashed a big Cheshire cat smile.
Shut up and go to sleep kid.
* * *
While in the living room watching adult TV (anything that is not Buzz Lightyear or cartoonish) when six-year-old Shamus announced he had some great news.
‘I just finished my first no-picture book,? he said proudly. Yes, our boy has joined the club of folks who read books that have no pictures. We knew the book he was talking about. It’s about kids in karate. The 136-page book with 11 chapters is titled, ‘Fight For Honor,? written by Carin Greenburg Becker.
Just before the self-congratulation began on raising a fine young man, a glance to the LED clock on the VCR stopped the happytime In bluish-green luminescence the clock showed 9:44. It was a smackin? frackin? quarter to 10 in the night and Shamus was supposed to be in bed — a place he went to at 8 p.m.
‘What the — it’s almost 10 o’clock. You’ve got school tomorrow, bub. Get your butt back in bed,? I said.
I think what came across to Shamus? sensitive ears was, ‘Shut up and go to sleep kid.? Feelings hurt, he turned and with a walk that shouted ‘dejection? headed to his and Sean’s bedroom.
We got up from our rears, turned our attention from President Martin Sheen (who was saving the world from certain nuclear annihilation), went to his room and gave Shamus the credit he deserved, ending with ‘now, get to sleep!?
* * *
I surprised myself by using the words ‘shut? and ‘up? together just now. We never use ‘shut up? at home. And, the boys know it.
Not too long ago the boys were playing together by themselves in a room with no adult supervision (I was in the hallway, outside the doorway). As I was heading (unannounced, as is a parent’s prerogative) into the room Sean said with a hushed voice, ‘Shut up Shamie.?
As he completed his sentence he looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. He bowed his head, deep in sorrow, because he knew he had been busted (not for what he had done).
‘Tell Shamus you’re sorry and go stand in the corner. We don’t say ‘shut up? in this house,? was all I had to say. He did what he was told without a fuss and all was right in the world for another five minutes.
Such is life with the meanest dad in town.
Comments to Papa Don can be e-mailed to Don@ShermanPublications.org.