My Son Is Back In His Dead Phase

My son’s back in his dead phase.

A dead phase example.

He’s dead whenever it’s time to go inside, cleanup, go to bed, move, eat anything but candy and even when I suggest that he find his good attitude. I can’t. I’m dead. Because dead people don’t have attitudes. Duh.

Last week, he died in my arms. I was trapped under his dead weight, and E was completely unwilling to move.


Me: E, you need to put away your sandbox toys before we go inside.

Dramatic collapse into my lap.

Me: E, get up.

E: I can’t. I’m dead.

I think: Alright, kid. It’s on like Donkey Kong.

I turn to his sister.

Me: N! Guess what? Your brother is dead! Now, we can use him as a chair like we’ve ALWAYS WANT TO DO. He won’t mind. Because he’s DEAD. Come on over and sit on him.

N comes charging over and plops down on my dead son’s stomach.

E is not pleased.

He bucks once. He twists twice. N goes flying.

I rejoice {after consoling N}: E!  YOU’RE ALIVE!

E: No, I’m not.

Me: Oh, so you want to be a chair again.

E: No!

Me {back to rejoicing}: Oh, I’m so happy to have you back. You’re cute and cuddly even after you’ve been dead. And I KNOW that you’ll be that much better at cleaning up your toys. Let’s grab those sandbox shovels, Lazarus.

And he did!  Until he died again at dinnertime.  At this rate, I’ll be surpassing Jesus in miracles some time next month.

Alex Iwashyna

Alex Iwashyna went from a B.A. in philosophy to an M.D. to a SAHM, poet and writer by 30. She spends most of her writing time on, a humor blog (except when it's serious) about her husband fighting zombies, awkward attempts at friendship, and dancing like everyone is watching. She also has a soft spot for culture, politics, and rude Southern people who offend her Yankee sensibilities. She parents 2 elementary-aged children, 1 foster baby, 3 cats, and 1 puppy, who are all Southern but not rude. Yet.

18 thoughts to “My Son Is Back In His Dead Phase”

  1. Your son is clearly part possum.

    Also, I may try playing dead when my boss asks me for something at work. Here’s hoping she doesn’t try to use me as a chair.

  2. He is so dramatic and creative. I love it! And you truly ARE brilliant. I don’t necessarily want to say that you are the “gifted” one since I like to think my pediatrician is gifted…however, this is a huge sway. :o)

  3. Oh, the ladies at work are wondering what I am snickering about!

    I can honestly say that my children has never tried the dead thing, and thank goodness for that. I don’t know that I would have been as resourceful as you! My younger son does try the “I’m asleep” thing, but people who are asleep can always be woken up…

  4. If you can also start turning water into wine, you could have a real money maker on your hands there.

    You need both services. No, hear me out.

    First, you make wine-water to console those who have just had loved ones die. Then, you bring the loved one back. THEN you sell them wine-water at an extremely jacked up price for the celebration.

    Ah, the miracle of extortion.

  5. Ah yes, the miracle of child resuscitation… I was quite the dier in my day. My 18 MO son will, I am sure, follow in your son’s deadweight faints. If you think about it, what with all the vampire fads, you are quite cool to have such a dead-undead kid 😉

  6. When my brother used to play dead I had a song–a variation of the Mighty Mouse theme, using the words “Chicky Baby” instead of Mighty Mouse–guaranteed to crack him up.

    Worked every time.

  7. It’s this part of parenthood – the creative part – where I fear I will fall short when my kids reaches the age where she’ll start pulling these antics. Well done. And also? Teach me.

    And I love that you called your son Lazarus.

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