Monthly Archives: May 2014

Daddy?

Kids say the darndest things. At least, thats what they say kids say. Mine just started talking coherently a little while ago, but for every word that is incoherent, there’s one that’s clear as day.

Ive been around kids long enough to know they repeat everything they hear. Despite my sometimes sailor inspired vocabulary, im usually really good with what I say around them.

This post is NOT about how my daughter embarassed me in public because she spewed off a few choice words appropriate only for a dissertation written by the Hound from Game of Thrones.

Instead, the offending word is one that many parents yearn for their child to say: Daddy.

On one of our regular grocery trips to the local Kroger, in which I was quite proud of myself for managing to get both children fed, dressed, and out of the house incident free by myself, my daughter sat in the cart while I carried my son in a black Boba wrap.

One by one we added things to the cart, crossing off items from our list as we toured the aisles. When we arrived at the cleaning section, the aisle was full of other shoppers. I managed to finagle the cart to the area I needed.

I grabbed the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser from the shelf and handed it to Rory to throw in the basket. Instead, in this aisle full of people, she looked at the image of a happy, smiling guy with a shiny bald head and as clear as day she yelled: “that’s my Daddy”.

Knowing my husband, I actually thought the connection was hysterical. Shes often found resemblence to her father in other famous faces. She swears he’s Howie Mandel, and when we spent last summer in Pennsylvania, she assumed Cuban American music artist Pitbull was her dad and he was just away on tour.

Once I noticed the looks on other shoppers faces I started to assess the situation from an outside perspective. This tired, weary mother with two tiny children, shopping alone on a weekday morning, so pathetic that the poor child doesnt even know who her father is. She thinks its Mr. Clean for crying out loud. We must help her. Send her to Maury.

I laughed, told Rory that was not her daddy, which only made her yell “its Daddy!” Even louder and clearer, and threw the box in the cart. Finally I caved and accepted that Mr. Clean was my childs father. “Yes Roar, thats daddy. Lets go pick out some ice cream.”

As the other patrons looked at me with pitying eyes, I finally understood why my daughter can be such a clean freak. Its in her genes.

Mr Clean Logo is Daddy?

Are You My Daddy?

Trespassing Shmuspassing

 

Continued from The Parking Saga…

A “No Trespassing” sign. Right there, smack dab in the middle of her front door. That’s right. My crazy neighbor decided it wasn’t obvious enough that one should not break into her home, and saw necessity in hanging a sign on her door.

No Tresspassing

This got me thinking. I’m new out here, and just learning the local laws and ordinances. Maybe I missed something. Is there a law that says you can only defend yourself in the case of a home invasion of you had a sign that says people shouldn’t break in? There’s always that fine print that defense attorneys love to find.

Should I get one? Is my new home not safe? Why doesn’t anyone else have one on the street?

I considered the source and decided to observe the situation. Now I’ve seen no trespassing signs in people’s yards, or on garages or large spaces of land, but never on someone’s front door.

After about 3 days, the sign moved to the top of the door. A few days later, to the bottom. Then it disappeared completely. Now I was even more curious? Who does this? And do the burglars approach the door and say “Oh, I was going to break in but I see there’s a sign.”

After a few days of trying to make sense of the whole sign conundrum, I had just started to give up. That’s when a simple walk by front window led me to another clue. The screen door didn’t close completely.

Even the sheriff stopped to make sure everything was ok, as the door was swinging in the “Windiana” weather. I suppose it didn’t latch properly.  So my neighbor would come and go, paying no mind to her broken door, or making any attempt to rectify the situation.

That must be the reason for the sign. After not seeing the sign for about a week, it suddenly reappeared on the door again. What is going on?  Ignore a broken door but taken time to hang a sign?

Just when I stopped trying to understand, the answer became clear: A big fat fluffy cuteness of a squirrel came running out of the doorway. So the sign was to ward off home invaders, just not the kind I’m used to. Unfortunately for my neighbor, squirrels can’t read.

The market is getting hot for Harlequin Squirrel Romance.

The market is getting hot for Harlequin Squirrel Romance.

 

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