Skip to main content

My daughter is your typical rude American

The Kid's vocabulary has exploded lately. Her often non-stop narrative occasionally makes sense now, and she pulls a typical brutish American move when you don't understand her, she repeats what she just said at maximum volume.

For the most part, her diction is spot on. She is very clear with the mono-syllabic words she does know, and her ability to string together short sentences is improving (although I think I'll be saying "cankoo" instead of thank you for quite a while). And she absolutely melts her word nerd Papa's heart by using every single word in her vocabulary correctly.

But incidents like what transpired Friday are indicative of what can drive the parents of toddlers to an early grave.

On my way back from a business trip in Chicago, my windshield wiper fluid lines were frozen. It was a stressful drive, mostly because I had my boss and a co-worker in the car and I could only see when I could tailgate a trucker to get any moisture on my windshield. So I opted to go in for a carwash, figuring the combination of hot water and the car dryer would melt anything away. It worked, sort of. The wiper fluid was thoroughly melted, and I could see clearly without endangering my passengers, but the sunroof that I never wanted (long story) and absolutely hate, leaked all over me and my boss.

Or so I thought.

As my lovely daughter and I made our way to daycare the next day, she said, "Papa. Wet."  I asked if she peed through her Pull-Up, and was answered with a resounding, "No Papa. Wet." At the next light, I reached back and felt her seat, which was clearly cold and wet. The water stain above her seat told me the culprit. I acknowledged that she didn't pee-pee, and told her we would be at daycare soon so we could get it cleaned up.

The next 10 minutes of my drive sounded like this:

"Wet Papa."

"Okay kiddo, we're almost at daycare. Papa will help you get dry when we get there, okay?"

"Okay Papa... WET PAPA!"

And every time I did not respond to her shouts of, "WET PAPA!", she repeated them with an increasing volume and annoyance in her tone, as if I didn't understand a word she said.

Luckily, I think we have plenty of time to correct this before she's 18. Or at least before she's parodied in a Ken Tanaka video.

Popular posts from this blog

The value of keeping an old-school journal

I started journaling a few years ago as a way to get some of the thoughts in my brain out in a less public way than a blog. I focused my journal on writing letters to my daughter about everything from my own childhood to her loving attempt to serve breakfast to our family this morning. The journal coincided with my decision to wind down the number of blog posts about her, mostly because she deserves to tell her own story when she wants to tell it and in the way she wants to tell it.

I also want to save the embarrassing stories for when she starts dating.

Lately, I have done a lousy job keeping up on my journal. Until a few nights ago, I had not updated it since mid-June. Life has been hectic, trying to balance a demanding job with an exacting MBA schedule, family, and my want for being involved in city politics. Putting off journaling has been easy, there is always something that seems more pressing on my plate.

Finally I made the decision to wait one more day before finishing a pape…

Year one with The Kid, the start of an amazing life as a family

One year ago, I was running to the Target in the Eastland Mall because we needed a camera fast.  I woke up that morning, realizing that we would always want to remember that day with better photos than we would get from our smartphones. I was on a conference call for work as I ran through the store, half paying attention because I needed to hurry back to pick up Gladys so we could get to Catholic Social Services of Wayne County in time for our meeting.

I didn't want to be late for our first chance to meet The Kid.

Gladys and I were both nervous. We had seen a few pictures during our last visit with our social worker, and we had the family history the agency was allowed to release to us, but we didn't know a thing about The Kid's personality. Was she shy or playful? Would she be scared or was she curious about her surroundings? Would she cry when she met us or would she warm up to us? Would she like us?

We agreed to try playing it cool when we met her. We wouldn't rush…

My fourth Father's Day

This Father's Day is a happy one while being a great day for personal reflection. The Kid could hardly contain her excitement waiting for me to wake up so she could give me her gifts. Church, lunch at the Original Buddy's Pizza and kayaking on Lake Muskoday made today happy.

I also can't help reflect on the past. Four years ago today, we were at Lincoln Hall of Justice, Family Division in front of Judge Christopher Dingell to finalize The Kid's adoption.

It was a strange day. Our adoption could have been over a few weeks before if we had opted to have Wayne County Courts mail us her new birth certificate, but we decided we wanted to hear it from the judge himself. What we assumed would be a joyous occasion wasn't, the Judge was annoyed we wasted his time and told his clerk as soon as he decreed our adoption final that he never wanted to do another hearing like that again.

Still, it was a joyous day. Adoption Day unintentionally fell on my grandmother's birthda…


Ebates Coupons and Cash Back