Eight days since my last post AND a missed Six-Pack: Sorry, my friends.We are preparing for a week-long holiday next week, and the tying up of loose ends has consumed my time.
So as a sign of my affection for you, I come today armed with the story.
I’m father to three delightful little girls, currently aged four, three, and one. Occasionally, I will give them flippant answers in response to their never-ending questions–sometimes in fun, sometimes in slight irritation.
Three seconds after the van backs out of the driveway, someone small will ask, “What’s for snack?” Most of the time, my kind and well-planned wife will have some goodies for the little mouths. Dad is less well-prepared. If the question comes as a steady whine, my conversation-ending response might be, “Eat your fingers.” They will respond in disbelief, while believing that the dialogue has ended.
Victory, Dad.
This morning, I was in a rush to get to work. Heading to the washroom to get ready, I wanted a little space of my own. My three-year-old (Today is her birthday!) followed me in.
I asked her to go play.
She asked why.
From the wisdom that comes with age, I told her, “Daddy needs to use the potty.”
With the innocence that comes with youth, she inquired, “Why?”
In an effort to be truthful yet tactful, I said, “Something needs to come out.”
In an effort to be inquisitive and still more inquisitive, she pressed, “What?”
With the flippancy of the father in a rush, I replied, “Maybe a dinosaur.”
She appeared to pick up my queue and departed. Only seconds later, my get-ready time was interrupted as I overheard a freshly-three-year-old voice exclaim, “Mom, Dad said a dinosaur will come out of his bum!”
I might have heard a gasp; I can’t be sure.
The gasp that may or may not have happened was followed by a motherly reply, “I am sure Daddy didn’t say that.”
In the end, I didn’t get to work as quickly as I had envisioned. I hadn’t budgeted for a laugh-till-I-wheeze delay while I brushed my teeth and apparently hatched an ancient beast.
