When I was younger, I always thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do to open the car door or pull out a chair for a lady. But, people said those types of things were demeaning and sexist. Fair enough, I suppose. I see the point. So I stopped.
But, to this day, I still put the toilet seat down. And, I have yet to hear one woman complain.
Chivalry is not yet dead.
This morning I invented a new competition for my daughters: The Daddy Massage Open. Because, I believe that a little sibling rivalry is a good thing. It builds character. And, if my shoulders have to serve as judges, so be it. I am willing to suffer. The things I do for my children.
Coming into this morning’s competition, Julianna (she’s 9) is the presumptive favorite, having dominated the last two battles in a row: “Where’s My Phone” and “Get Me a Beer.” So, she is poised for a trifecta.
She begins her routine. And, while she she shows a deft touch, she certainly has left the door open for the competition.
Isabella (7) digs in, and her grip is so tight that I whip around expecting to find a small Chinese man, well-schooled in the Ancient Art of the Massage. Instead, it’s just Isabella smiling with the last three teeth still in her mouth.
Me: Dang, Honey. That’s some good stuff. Where’d you learn that? I don’t care. Keep going!
She squeezes again, then (and I don’t know where she got this idea) she started to lightly scratch my back.
DING DING DING!
This competition is over. There is a new Champion!
I knew those hours of gymnastics lessons (with the hanging from the bars and all) would eventually pay off. For me.
On the way home from piano lessons…
Isabella (she’s 7): Daddy, there’s a kid in my class who wasn’t born in America.
Me (attempting to be interested): Really… Where was he born.
Iz: In a country that begins with an “I.” Guess which one.
Me: Ok. Iguanastan.
Iz: Daddy, that not a country.
Me: Well, actually it’s “England,” and it begins with an “E.”
Iz: Whatever… Do you know what language they speak there?
Me: You’re asking me what language they speak in England? Honey, I’m dying… Please tell me.
Me: Hmm. Uh… You know that that’s same as English, right?
Iz: No, Daddy. It’s English, only (finger pointing dramatically). With an Accent!!