Let Me Help You, Little Lady

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.

Massage-Off

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.

Inglish

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: No?

Iz: Ingland!!!

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.

Iz: British!

(long pause)

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!!