Big Daddy

Right now Daddy is the hero. That is not to say that the wee one doesn't light up like Christmas Eve when the mommy comes into the room. But Daddy is the fun one. No reason really. It probably has to do with the fact that Annie spends more time with mommy and so daddy is an exciting break from the routine.

I am fully aware that this is nothing but weather. It will change and see-saw back and forth and round and round. Next month mommy will be the favorite, then daddy and so on until some boy catches her eye or teenage angst settles in and then both mommy and daddy will be on the outs until late college when she realizes that life can be damn challenging and all she wants to do is retreat to the comfort and safety of "home" where mom makes her favorite meal and dad has that "dad smell" that she has come to associate with comfort and safety.

What brought this all on? This:

Earlier in the afternoon I went to daughter’s orchestra concert, the usual vague sawing conducted with knitted brows and palpable concentration. Delightful. Afterwards we went to the grocery store, a jaunt that’s made her roll her eyes for half a decade. Me, I remember the compliant years when every outing with Daddy was fun, but she’s no longer in a cart and has that damnable thing experts call “a mind of her own” and the attendant sense of sarcasm that infects American children at a preternatural age. But still: fun. I love how she gives me the mock big pleading eyes in a parody of a child making the genuine big pleading eyes.

We had an argument on the way home, and I told her she had made a logically inconsistent assertion.

“Oh like you don’t.” Pause. “What does that mean?”

“Never mind. But don’t try to slip one past me. I will see through your arguments for years to come until I am old and slow and dim, and then you’ll get no satisfaction when you fool me, because you will dealing with pity and sadness.”

We really do have conversations like this. I mimed a toothless old man sounding confused, then said “your mommy is a lawyer and your daddy uses words for a living too, so you had better bring your best game. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh, you’re a writer, but what do you do? Blah blah blah on the TV.”

Zing! ZING! It’s all in good fun.

- Lileks

PS. Last night the fun daddy-break from the routine involved inadvertently feeding the wee one Mickey Mouse chicken nuggets until she puked. Daddy's agenda for tomorrow?: Sharp objects and why you should be careful when putting them in your mouth . . .