There is a Fathers Day golf thing at school.
like putt putt.
I am not a man.
And not a daddy.
But we don’t have one of those.
And the Daddy question is starting to come up…
On the way to swim lessons last week:
“Mommy do we have a Daddy?”
Coffee spray on the steering wheel…
My normally quick wit…
not so quick!
What kind if answer is that? Like he is en route or something?
True really … I hope one day I can say yes to this.
I am both.
or Mo’Daddy as I call it.
Really I am EVERYTHING:
- Supreme Goddess of Domestic Tidiness
- Not So Handy Man
- Bandaid Distributor
- Spellbinding Storyteller
- Choreographer of the Toddler Dance
- Master Chef of the Cheese Casserole
- Creative Art Coach
- Princess Chauffeur
- Director of Dispute Management – (she has more cookies, blocks, jew’ry, dan me MOMMY)
- Varmint Wrangler – i.e. deadly moths, ants, and caterpillars.
- Alpha Dog … some days…okay maybe hardly ever. BUT in my mind…. I AM THE TOP DOG!
- Shit Sherpa
So on the golf thing…
I tell her I may not be able to make it.
“well…Mommy has to work?”
“Mommy you always be so working. Why you be so working all da time?”
Direct hit to the heart.
“well?…honey… I have to work to pay for our house and all your toys and peanut butter”
“Mommy… if you not come…I be so sad…
I be crying and crying and crying and crying”
I’ll take overacting for 100.00 Alex.
“I will do my best Landon”
“well Mommy… I just be so sad… but you make your choice”
WHAT? Is she using my own tactics on me?
I feel like crap…
You know… cuz I be so working all da time.
So she wins.
And I put on my sneakers and Bermuda shorts…
Because THAT is a sexy look.
And out we went.