Friday, July 11, 2008

The Kissing Bug

I just recently started up another blog page just for daddy type stuff. For the benefit of my readers I'll be double posting so you won't have to actually go over there if you don't want to. I was going to start out with my first actual post with my first actual content in it with a tale of swapping stories with an old friend and re-discovering the spark of love. But to hell with that... MY DAUGHTER IS KISSING BOYS!!!

Add that to the list of things she's doing that I thought I had about another decade to get ready for. Example one would be telling me she's moving to Canada while slamming the door in my face and capping it off with a heart felt, "I HATE YOU!". I actually, jokingly, imagined that scenario on the very day she was born and thought, "Whew... at least I have about thirteen years to get ready for that." Guess again. Apparently in this enlightened age when children get e-mail addresses before they learn to tie their shoes you start to be thirteen when you're four!

Whups! Went and spilled the whole thing right there and dun shorted myself a future post.

But at any rate, Miss O has been dropping the occasional statement about some boy from pre-school being the nicest boy in the world and wanting to marry him. But I chalked that up to her watching far too many Barbie movies and weaving the drama into her every day life. The child is only slightly less dramatic than, say... the hypothetical love child of William Shakespeare and Liza Minnelli.

On to the present mayhem. Right after work we hustled the kiddos off to the pizza shop for a quick family outing with my brother-in-law's family who is up from D.C.. For a chaser we took them for ice cream. To cap it off we looked around and saw that not only had we passed bed time, but bed time was actually stuck at a rest stop in Cleveland trying to scrounge up enough change to call someone to pick it up. What a fine time to go a-visiting.

So a-visiting we went to the home of some parent-type friends of my wife's, for me to look at their plaster and electricity. We left their mid-size people in charge of our short people in the back yard and got to lookin. After a solid hour of running and yelling (their favorite game), it was finally time to go. As I deftly split the herd like a german shepard with Jedi mind powers, my daughter rushed up to me and said with the flush of love in her cheeks that she had kissed the boys.

So there I stood blinking with my thirteen/five-year-old daughter beaming at me and speaking in tones right out of a sappy eighties teen movie. Shudder. At any rate, it finally came out that these boys she had been kissing (twice her age for corn sakes!) were actually in the heart of the girls-are-yucky stage and had to first be run down, cornered, relieved of their light sabres and then pecked in the middle of the back before released again into the wild.

It's a good thing my mind was too full of pizza and electrical talk for that all to sink in. Fortunately a quick, "Everybody wash your lips tonight!" left everybody laughing. I'm pretty glad I still don't have any time for all this to really sink in. I have an estimate to do and some bourbon to chase it with.

The moral: Kiss em while they're young (your kids) cause pretty soon they'll be hoochin' around the neighborhood with plans to move to Canada with some dirty Jedi in a Bill's shirt.

This just in... The Missus has just posted her own tale on the subject of our daughter kissing boys. You can find it on her blog entitled The Dayton Time



I was going to start out with my first actual post with my first actual content in it with a tale of swapping stories with an old friend and re-discovering the spark of love. But to hell with that... MY DAUGHTER IS KISSING BOYS!!!

Add that to the list of things she's doing that I thought I had about another decade to get ready for. Example one would be telling me she's moving to Canada while slamming the door in my face and capping it off with a heart felt, "I HATE YOU!". I actually, jokingly, imagined that scenario on the very day she was born and thought, "Whew... at least I have about thirteen years to get ready for that." Guess again. Apparently in this enlightened age when children get e-mail addresses before they learn to tie their shoes you start to be thirteen when you're four!

Whups! Went and spilled the whole thing right there and dun shorted myself a future post.

But at any rate, Miss O has been dropping the occasional statement about some boy from pre-school being the nicest boy in the world and wanting to marry him. But I chalked that up to her watching far too many Barbie movies and weaving the drama into her every day life. The child is only slightly less dramatic than, say... the hypothetical love child of William Shakespeare and Liza Minnelli.

On to the present mayhem. Right after work we hustled the kiddos off to the pizza shop for a quick family outing with my brother-in-law's family who is up from D.C.. For a chaser we took them for ice cream. To cap it off we looked around and saw that not only had we passed bed time, but bed time was actually stuck at a rest stop in Cleveland trying to scrounge up enough change to call someone to pick it up. What a fine time to go a-visiting.

So a-visiting we went to the home of some parent-type friends of my wife's, for me to look at their plaster and electricity. We left their mid-size people in charge of our short people in the back yard and got to lookin. After a solid hour of running and yelling (their favorite game), it was finally time to go. As I deftly split the herd like a german shepard with Jedi mind powers, my daughter rushed up to me and said with the flush of love in her cheeks that she had kissed the boys.

So there I stood blinking with my thirteen/five-year-old daughter beaming at me and speaking in tones right out of a sappy eighties teen movie. Shudder. At any rate, it finally came out that these boys she had been kissing (twice her age for corn sakes!) were actually in the heart of the girls-are-yucky stage and had to first be run down, cornered, relieved of their light sabres and then pecked in the middle of the back before released again into the wild.

It's a good thing my mind was too full of pizza and electrical talk for that all to sink in. Fortunately a quick, "Everybody wash your lips tonight!" left everybody laughing. I'm pretty glad I still don't have any time for all this to really sink in. I have an estimate to do and some bourbon to chase it with.

The moral: Kiss em while they're young (your kids) cause pretty soon they'll be hoochin' around the neighborhood with plans to move to Canada with some dirty Jedi in a Bill's shirt.

This just in... The Missus has just posted her own tale on the subject of our daughter kissing boys. You can find it on her blog entitled The Dayton Time



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