Jesus, this kid has an attitude problem.
Look, there’s Henry crossing the street. Shortly after he came home, he fell asleep on the couch and it marked the first time ever in history that he joined me in torturing his napping father.
"Look Chooch, a sleeping bear! Let’s abuse him." I kept pinching Henry’s nose and sticking my finger in his mouth, and without any direction from me at all, Chooch ripped up a Kleenex and stuffed it in Henry’s ear, while Marcy perched on a nearby stool and glared at us. Every so often, Henry would slightly stir and an eye lid would lazily rise.
Eventually, I pinched too hard or laughed too loud, causing Henry to jerk forward and toss around a few empty threats. Chooch appeared a bit startled, but I quickly reminded him that we laugh when Daddy is upset, not cry. Laugh at Daddy’s misfortune, Choochie — it’s the fun way to live life. It says so on page 67 of the How to Handle a Henry1965 handbook.
Chooch threw back his head and concocted a laugh so evil and devious, that I was inspired to cover my heart with my hand.
It was awesome and my eyes welled with tears of pride.