Dad Sex Toys

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OK, get your bloody minds out of the gutter, Steely Dad Nation, it’s not what you think. I know I’ve waxed poetic about my, er, um, sexual exploits in the past but that’s all in the past. After all, this is a family blog and I have a moral obligation, albeit a flimsy one, to each and every Steely Dad fan out there. Hey, my mom reads this blog!

This story isn’t even about sex. I just used this snappy title because it’s sweeps week in the blogosphere and I needs me some readers! OK, I lie, this is a story about sex but I assure you it isn’t sexy. This is not a tale about a gigantic inanimate object or machine that doubles as an electric sander.

It’s always a challenge to write about, well, you know, the “S” word, without sounding like a page out of Penthouse Forum: “My wife took an active interest in our sexy new neighbor, Svetlana, and I had no problem with the obvious fact that the attraction was of the mutual variety.”

Last night the missus and I got motivated. No, we didn’t clean the house or do our taxes. You know, motivated? Yea, as in that motivated. The fun started innocently enough on the couch but as my wife and I have learned in not-so-auspicious situations, it’s just best to conduct business behind closed doors. This is not a time for transparency, if you catch my drift. But how I long for the days BK (before kids) when we could be spontaneous and act on our motivations whenever and wherever we fancied at the moment. Those were the days. With kids, we now have to be strategic and reconnoiter before we reconnect. It’s a whole process unto itself. My wife and I actually invested in a pair of military-grade infrared night vision goggles so that we can peek in on the little ones before we engage our motivations with them none the wiser. I highly recommend the goggles to all the parents out there. For the no-kid contingency who reads my blog, enjoy it before it’s gone.

So, we adjourned to the kinkiest place we know, also known as the bedroom, and we’re having some fun. I mean, we’re having a real good time. OK, let’s see if I can paint you a picture and keep it G rated. Our passions bubbled like spaghetti sauce being cooked on a hot stove. Our bodies intertwined like one of those huge anaconda breeding balls you see on National Geographic: It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right It Takes Two To Make It Outta Sight

We played Lewis and Clark, slowly and methodically exploring our rarely-used unchartered territories. And just when you thought things couldn’t get any hotter, just before our session was written in the history books, one of us (and by one of us I mean not me) inadvertently kicked the kids’ Baby Einstein Learning Sounds Piano. What the hell is a Baby Einstein Learning Sounds Piano you might logically ask? It’s this dreadfully annoying toy that looks like an octopus piano (yes, I just said octopus piano) and makes different animal sounds. Here, take a look: Octopus Piano

As if we weren’t making enough of our own animal noises, I guess my wife wanted more and hit the “Mouse” and “Frog” keys. We all know what a frog sounds like but what sort of noise does a mouse make? Well, according to the geniuses at Baby Einstein it makes a squeak noise. Yea, a freaking SQUEAK noise! Talk about driving into a brick wall at 150 MPH, nothing will kill your horsepower faster than a “squeak” noise from kids’ toys.

Now bear in mind it doesn’t take much to get me motivated and once I’m in the throes of my motivation it takes a lot to distract me. Ed McMahon could walk in with one of those enormous Publisher’s Clearinghouse checks announcing me as the grand prize winner and I wouldn’t skip a pump beat. But damn if this stupid mouse squeak noise didn’t cause a significant, yet temporary, hesitation in my giddy-up. First, it’s a squeak noise. Second, the sound was produced by my kids’ toy. Third, my wife wouldn’t or couldn’t stop laughing. Me, on the other hand, I suddenly felt dirty and yucky. For some reason I just couldn’t shake that squeak noise from my brain. Seriously, I think I’m scarred for life because of this seemingly innocent dereliction of duty on the part of my son. I don’t ask him to change the oil in the truck; I only ask that he pick up his toys! This is why, moms and dads, it’s so vitally important to instill in your kids the habit of cleaning up the toys. Learn from my mistake and insist that your kids pick up their toys or at the very least make sure they don’t play with their toys in your whoopee zone. I sincerely hope my story motivates you to do so.

Tagged as: Baby Einstein, dads, kids, moms, Steely Dad Nation, toys