Me dad, you bastard
2.10.2018
Translation: machine translated
Parrot "Pauli" comes straight from toy hell. My opinion. But that's of no interest here. Can the steamy chatterbox from "FurReal" win my daughter's heart?
"Showtime!" croaks Pauli, wiggling his plush hips in anticipation. I can already hear the kids rioting through the stairwell. The door opens and the spectacle takes its course. My son, who has just turned three, sees our new pet first and lets out a never-ending cry of delight. My daughter, who will soon be six, comes running up with shining eyes as the parrot goes on the charm offensive.
"You're my best friend," slimes Pauli, lifting his wings and sending a fart after him.
Son (enthusiastically): "Ahaha!!! He has farted!"
Daughter (newly in love): "Hello my best friend!"
Pauli (very cool): "Is this FurReal?"
Daughter (on cloud nine): "Can it fly too?"
Son (in ecstasy): "CAN HE FLIGHT???"
Both tug at the feathers. Fighting, commotion. Anger. Pauli is already flying.
He kisses the floor for the first time and makes wild contortions on the floor without stopping chattering. Yes, he just likes to talk. Without point and comma. Often without context. And above all, Pauli loves his jokes, which he laughs at himself. Howlers of the type: "Which animal is sitting next to the computer? The mouse!"
Just shut up for once
My daughter likes to talk too. She wants to talk to him. Tell him a joke sometimes.
Daughter (excitedly): "Says one cloud to another..."
Pauli (high-billed): "I'm the most beautiful bird in the world!"
Daughter (indignant): "A show-off bird you are!!! Says the one cloud..."
Pauli (unimpressed): "Lalalalalalaaaaaaa!"
Daughter (seriously angry): "You chatterbox! You're not friendly! I'll switch you off!"
And turned to me: "Dad, is he going out at all?" Just a few minutes have passed since we met and the house is already on the rocks. On all levels. My wife says: "How long are we going to keep that strange bird?" Her look says: "Get that thing out of the house as quickly as possible!"
In the meantime, my daughter has taken Pauli back into her heart. The solution to the conflict? Violence.
"The parrot is sometimes quite exhausting. You have to punch him in the nose all the time."
Pisigaggifurzi!
The actual idea is to gently press on Pauli's beak to get him to listen. In this case, I agree with smacking, because the plush terrorist doesn't deserve any better and is obviously very reluctant to interrupt his patter and dances. He then croaks out "Say it!" or "Sing it!" and actually listens for a few seconds before repeating what he has said or "singing" it with some cheap electro beats underneath and horribly distorted. This opens up a whole new world for the children. But what do you say when it's finally your turn? My son digs out a classic from his toddler vocabulary: "Pisigaggifurzi!" And Pauli joins in the game. Storms of enthusiasm are the result.
Over the next few days, he practically becomes a full-fledged Family member and is a much sought-after playmate. He didn't achieve this by dancing and singing, or by cooing in response to being stroked on the cheek. No, it's the recording function that fascinates the children. But beware: Pauli remembers what you say and will still croak the last recording into the room later at the touch of a button. So it's better not to let him blaspheme about the upcoming family visit at the weekend.
Phoenix of the hoax
As quickly as he rises in favour, things go downhill again for Pauli. After a few days, the children leave him on the left (or right, or on the floor). And when he croaks out "Hey, how about a joke?" again, we just roll our eyes.
Pauli (undaunted): "What's pirates' favourite computer key?"
. Family choir (bored): "Enter."
Pauli (enthusiastic): "ENTEEEER!!! AHAAHAAAAAAHAAAAA!!!"
You probably know a few flesh-and-blood candidates who mainly laugh at their own jokes. Pauli is their soulless soulmate. Well. You flew too high, little friend. You're doomed to crash. A cheat with poor motor skills and a very limited vocabulary, a phoenix of a joke. My opinion. But that's of no interest here.
Conclusion
That's up to my daughter. So?
"I think it's great. But the stupid thing is: he won't listen unless you shut his mouth."
Would you like him for your birthday?
"No, he talks too much!"
I'll leave it at that. Because I'm biased and sense competition. There can only be one person in this house who talks rubbish and makes bad jokes. Me dad, you gei. Back in the box with you, Pauli.
Do you like the funny bird? Here's my author profile. If you follow me, I'll keep texting you. I promise.
Michael Restin
Senior Editor
Michael.Restin@digitecgalaxus.chSimple writer and dad of two who likes to be on the move, wading through everyday family life. Juggling several balls, I'll occasionally drop one. It could be a ball, or a remark. Or both.
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