The Peanut was running around this morning--to and fro, even--jumping and hanging off furniture and screeching, "I'm a monkey, daddy. Look! I'm a monkey! Daddy look!"
I'm still trying to perfect that believable parent tone of voice where you say you're looking but you really don't but your kids believe you are anyway. So, I actually have to look every time.
"Wow, honey. You're a monkey. I'm tickled pink."
Her: "Yeah, daddy."
Cut to 2.75 minutes later:
Her, hanging from a chair: "Hi turtle daddy. Hi! Hi daddy turtle!"
Trying not to consider too deeply the implications of why she's chosen a turtle as my spirit animal, (probably it has something to do with the fact that once a year I lay dozens of eggs in a bed of sand) I answer her:
"Hi, monkey Peanut!"
Her: (annoyed) "Hi, turtle daddy."
Me: "Hi, Peanut Monkey!"
Her: (getting pissed now) No, daddy. No. Hi. Turtle. Daddy.
Me: "Hi . . . Turtle Peanut?"
Her: (tears of frustration in her eyes now. How could she have been burdened with this obtuse, slow moving reptile for a father?) No, daddy no! (whining) I'm not a turtle!
Me: "Hi monk-
Her: (Beside herself now) "NO! I'm NOT a monkey."
Me: (flummoxed) "Well what are you then ?"
Her (with passion she spits) " I'm a SPIDER!"
I should've known that, I guess. This omniscience stuff is hard. Maybe the way she used her fangs to inject venom into the cat so she could then wrap it up in gossamer thin but steel-cable strong webbing was my clue. I'm changing her name to Shelob.
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In other news, the nice and talented people over at DadCentric.com have seen fit to allow me to write a guest post for their 30 Days of Dads feature. The regular writers on that site ( not to mention the guest posters) are much better'n me, so it's kind of an honor. If I had any honor. If you have any extra time, swing by and check them (and my post) out. They are worth your while.
This is the best vid I could get. Most of them featuring Shelob have the embedding disabled. I blame Peter Jackson.
I thought maybe you were called a turtle because you were green from another trip to mall for bad sushi.
ReplyDeleteThe guest post is great! And you are totally right - parents who think their kids never lie are idiots.
ReplyDeleteWe actually picked totems for our kids when they were born. My youngest son is a turtle (the older one a humming bird). My sons pretend to be other stuff all the time. I guess I don't remember doing that as a kid. But we must have, right? Let's hope there isn't something in the water.
ReplyDeleteMy kids call me a jack ass all the time. I would be pleased with the turtle moniker, but that's just me.
ReplyDeleteYeah, there should be mandatory mind-reading courses for parents or something like that.
ReplyDeleteMonkey, spider . . . maybe she's a spider monkey.
Thanks for killing the ants. I love having a husband.
ReplyDeleteBTW, I left you a flirty comment on dadCentric for you -- but you have to go there to read it!
She is obviously a shape shifter. It will come in handy at Super Hero college.
ReplyDeleteWhat kind of father are you??? You didn't even know your own daughter was a monkey. That's just sad.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry... a spider! :)
ReplyDeleteHow did a turtle produce a spider? That's just weird. And Shelob would totally devour a turtle so I'd watch out.
ReplyDeleteHow SWEEEEET!
ReplyDeleteLOL spider?!
Sara Louise, she looks more like her mother =)
ReplyDeleteDarling, you are much more talented than that haiku hack that replaced you -- love, tw