CATCHPHRASE

"Father's are the only people in the house who are allowed to have gas" --  Bill Cosby Himself (1983) 

Growing up, I had a unique problem.  Well, not so much a "problem"... more like a condition.  A doctor once described it to my parents as a rare malady most often associated with the European aristocracy.  My guess is they were told this as a joke (something bored doctors do just to mess with people).  However, as I grew up... this "diagnosis" stuck with me.  To hell with second opinions, our boy has a disease associated with Kings and Queens (or Dukes as the case may be).

<pfffft>

And what was this rare, yet regal medical condition?  Ten dollars to the first person who guesses... "spasmodic pyloric sphincter".  I'll let that sink in for a second.  OK... that's long enough.  On their own, these words are horrible.  Combined, they make you want to dunk yourself in a vat of Purell. 

When I was young, this malady presented itself in a straightforward manner.  If I went to bed and was nervous about an upcoming event (big test at school, soccer tryouts, etc), a muscle in my stomach would spasm.  This would cause me to wake up around 4 am the next morning.   Without getting into all the gory details, I'd spend the next several hours in the bathroom putting on a Vegas-style show that would've made Gallagher envious.  After which, my stomach would calm down and I'd feel fine.  Now I can only imagine your horror at reading this, but it really wasn't that bad.  On the bright side... it got me out of a lot of shit (no pun intended).

remember, the first four rows WILL get wet.

The good news is that I (mostly) grew out of it.  Now I simply have what my Grandma called a "sour tummy".  Not ideal, but definitely an improvement... at least in terminology.

I'd like to circle back for a moment to Mr. Cosby's observation at the beginning of this post.  I'll admit... I've taken advantage of the free pass fathers are given regarding gaseous emissions in the house.  And if the complaints DO come, I simply work up some fake tears and relay to my family the sickly childhood I endured.  I'm sure they understand.

Why do I tell you this?  First, it makes me laugh to realize you've actually read this far.  Second, it gives you the background needed for what follows. 

A couple of years ago the world was introduced to a new product called Dr. Pepper Ten.  This soft drink had "all the taste of regular Dr. Pepper, but with only 10 manly calories".  The commercials featured an actor doing very "action hero-y" type things.  In one particular spot, after killing a python and escaping in an all-terrain vehicle, our hero looks directly into the camera and yells "CATCHPHRASE!".  The joke being that he's too macho to actually come up with a catchphase (at least I think that's what it means).  That particular commercial played in heavy rotation all Fall.  My young sons and I probably saw it a dozen times each Sunday during football season.

because "tastes like ass" didn't test well.

One evening as I was getting my sons ready for bed, my oldest asked me... "What does 'catchphrase' mean?".  In true Dad fashion I stumbled for an answer that was close enough to the actual truth but simple enough for a young boy to understand.  My response... " It's something you're known for.  When people hear it, they think of you".  He seemed to grasp the concept.  Heck, it kinda made sense.  Score one for Dad.  Either way he seemed satisfied, so we moved on to bigger and better things.    

As is our custom, the three of us shoehorned into the lower bunk to read a good book.  The details of the story are fuzzy (either Thomas was saving Percy that day or Gordon was being a dickhead for no reason... the usual).  We read.  We laughed.  Then we read some more.

As we approached the final page, something happened.  Something that had occurred many times before.  In fact, I'm ashamed to say this, but it had happened so often in the past that it sometimes went unnoticed.  I invoked my God-given Dad privilege... and passed some gas.  As I waited for the proverbial smoke to clear, I heard a tiny voice from the other side of the bed yell out... "CATCHPHRASE".

Damn, I love that kid.