When the Bough Breaks

Sleepy time for Julianna tonight:

J (for those keeping score, she’s seven): Daddy, can you sing me a lullaby?

Me: Of course. I usually start with this one… Rockabye Baby, On the Tree Top…

[when I finish…]

J: Um, Daddy. What’s a “bough.”

Me: It’s a tree branch.

J: So, the branch breaks, and the baby falls?

Me: Well, I guess so. It’s just a song.

J: Who would put a baby in a tree? Did you ever put me in a tree?

Me: No, Honey. There are laws against that sort of thing.

J: Well, but, who would put a baby in a tree? (She’s clearly getting agitated.) Who would do that?!

[Crap! What kind of emotional scarring am I inflicting on my daughter. It’s a lullaby for crying out loud. To soothe kids into falling asleep, not undermine our parent/child bond.

But, seriously, who puts babies in trees?

And then, Julianna rationalizes…]

J: Oh, I know. The Mommy and Daddy birds made a cradle out of sticks for their babies. That’s how they teach them to fly. When they fall, they learn to fly!… Goodnight… Zzzzzzz.

Do You Read Your Spam?

I can tell that Daddy/Daughter Fun Time is really taking off simply judging by the web-traffic I am getting. In the early days (two months ago), I was lucky to get one or two comments a day. Now, I am getting dozens of comments.

But… (And, I was afraid this was going to happen.)

Unfortunately, it is mostly Spam.

Here’s what my “fans” are saying:

From my “Pass the Midol” post:
“Great post! You elucidate numerous worthy points. Please visit my site: www.whatever.com.”

From “Some Enchanted Evening”:
“I disagree with you. You raise a number of valid complaintants. But you contradict your thesis.”

From “Survival of the Fittest”:
“You RE great writer. Are you married? Or in a relationship? Sounds HOT!”

From “She’s My Straight Man”:
“i was looking for such easy task from a long time it will help me in increasing my knowledge.”

From “Hot Tub Workout”:
“Sexy! Sexy! Sexy! Girls are FUN! Click my link:”

From “101 Dalmatians”:
“Mmmmmmm. Dogs.”

Holy Jesus Crap!

Trust me. Things get much weirder from there.

I’m trying to delete the obviously inappropriate posts as they happen. But, send me an encouraging, personal word when something amuses you. Because if my “Bubble Butts” post was “inspiring, beautiful, emotional, and life-changing. I like ass.” Then, God Bless, but please post elsewhere. I don’t want you reading me…

I Have a Dream

Julianna’s somewhat sketchy second-grader understanding of American history:

J: Daddy, Marthin Luther gave a great speech.

Me: Martin Luther King, Jr. Yes, go on.

J: We don’t need to say “Junior” since no one knows who his father was.

Me: Well, his father…

J (interrupting): Marthin Luther said the Black people and the White people should be the same.

Me: Yes he did.

J: And George Washington heard what he said.

Me: He did?

J: Yes, and after that, Abraham Lincoln was the president who said the slaves could be free.

Me: Well, Lincoln was president and…

J: Daddy, why did people have slaves anyway?

Me: Wow, that’s a tough question.

J: Because people shouldn’t make other people do stuff.

Me: Yes, that’s right.

J: So, when you tell me to clean up my room, I really don’t have to.

Me: Well, Honey. That’s different. I’m your father, and…

J: Yeah, but… Like Marthin Luther, I had a dream…

How I Met Their Mother

The shortest courtship in history…

Lynn: You’re Funny. Looking.


Me: You’re Pretty. Stupid.

(pause. We stare into each other’s eyes.)

Me: So, do you want to get married?


Lynn: Um. Ok.

Yeah, it was a bit more involved than that, but that’s been the general spirit of our 20 years of matrimonial bliss.

Happy Anniversary to my Lovely Love.

Story Time

On the drive in to school, the girls like for me to tell them “non-fiction fiction” stories. These are stories that I make up on the spot, but which I sell as Absolutely True. Like the time I hunted a bear. Or, when I was abducted by aliens. Or, when I was a fireman and put out a fire in a dog house. It is quite draining to improvise these stories while in morning rush hour traffic. But, I like to please the audience. (And, yes. The girls are in on the joke… I think.)

Today’s installment:

Julianna (she’s seven): Daddy, please tell us a non-fiction fiction story.
Iz (she’s five): Yeah. Please, please, please.
Me: Ok. What story should I tell you about?
J: The time you were a police officer.
Iz: Daddy, you already told that one.
J: No he didn’t!
Iz: Yes he did!

Trying to avoid yet another high-decibel squabble between the two of them at 60 miles per hour, I intercede.

Me: Well, I used to be the Sheriff.
Iz: What’s that?
Me: Well, the Sheriff was the police office of the Old West.
Iz: Oh.
Me: I was the Sheriff of Glamor Gulch.
Iz: Huh?

Remember, I’m making this up on the spot.

Me: Well, Glamor Gulch was the Entertainment Capital of the Old West. Like Hollywood. So, I…
Iz: Daddy. You know I don’t understand this.
Me: Really?
Iz: Yeah. I hear your words. Then, I think about your words. Then, I hear your new words. Then I forget your old words. Then I don’t know what you are talking about.
Me: Well, Honey. You’re only five. You will learn to pay attention as you get older.

Iz: Yeah… And your story is boring.

Everyone’s a critic.

Spring Fair

I just finished working the Annual Spring Fair fundraiser at Isabella’s pre-school. I worked the bar. (Insert your “It figures” joke here.)

I’m just glad the girls didn’t get a contact buzz from breathing the fumes from the beer/wine/sangria/etc. sloshed onto my clothes over the course of a very long day on the drive home.

But, getting the girls to leave at all proved most difficult. I can’t blame them, they were having such a great time. As I finally rounded them up and headed to the gate, I realize that Julianna (the seven-year-old) has somehow wandered off.

My eyes scan the campus. Finally, I spot her. In the playground.

Me (yelling): Julianna! We HAVE TO GO!

Shoulders slouched, she approaches.

Julianna: Well, I was looking for you.

Me: Even though I was standing right next to you, you thought you’d find me on the Monkey Bars?

J: Well, no. But, I was looking for Isabella. She’s always so hard to find.

I was holding Isabella’s hand. But, it’s always the little sister’s fault.

Seriously, Iz’s school is a great place. http://www.neighborhoodnurseryschool.org
They happily take donations. Tell them Daddy/Daughter Fun Time sent you.

Up for Bid

Lynn is handling this year’s elementary school Silent Auction, and she’s doing an incredible job.

My contribution is to proofread and double check the wording of the submissions.

From my limited experience, here’s what I have learned: There are some incredibly awesome donations from some extremely benevolent people and organizations. Humanity doesn’t always suck.

But, if you would like to donate an item or service, here are a couple of things:

– Don’t offer your services to “new people, not pre-existing ones.” Ghosts are generally not known to bid big.

– Don’t mistake the “priceless” photo of you and TV host Mario Lopez with the “Mona Lisa.” They’re a little bit different.

– And, please, please, please. Don’t offer “a Full-Hour Hot Oil Massage” if you are only going to donate it under the name “Anonymous.”

That’s REALLY creepy.

And a bid I will never make again.

Night at the Museum

Another good one from Julianna, the chatterbox 7-year-old, on the 20 minute ride home from school. Solid logic, and she brings it back home in the end.

All in one breath:

“Daddy, can we go to the museum to look at history because I want to be a scientist and scientists have to be knowledey about things and need to know all about knowledge and learn knowledge about science and history, and when I am a scientist I’ll invent a machine to let me go back in history, back in time, and fix things that scientists couldn’t fix then but can fix now or tomorrow, and I can come back to today or maybe even the future, and go see the things I fixed….. In a museum!”

Even Isabella(!) couldn’t get a word in edgewise. And, you wonder why I’m always tired.


Flipping through the channels with Julianna on the TV today, I stumble upon…

J: Ooo, Daddy! Are they skydivers?

Me: Yes, Honey, I suppose so.

J: Oh My Goodness! I’ve wanted to do that my Whole Entire Life!

She’s Seven.

J: But, before you jump out of an airplane, you have to check your backpack to make sure it does NOT have food in it. But, it DOES have a parachute.

Me: Well noted.

Mother’s Day

DaddyDaughterFunTime.com would not exist without the tireless and selfless contributions of Mommy. I can’t begin to tell you how hard she works, but she keeps the whole operation running.

So on Mother’s Day, I know we (specifically I) don’t tell you how much we appreciate what she does. But understand this, Mommy: I appreciate you.