It’s in the Bag

In the car after a birthday party, the girls are rummaging through their goodie bags…

Isabella (the five-year-old): Mommy, is the lollipops in the bag?

Mommy: Are the lollipops.

Iz: What, Mama?

Mommy: “Are the lollipops in the bag?”

Iz: I don’t know. That’s why I asked you.

Mommy: No, Honey. You said is when you should have said are. Because, the word “lollipops” is what we call “plural.” Do you know what that means?

Iz: Oh, I understand what you’re saying… Julianna, is the lollipops in the bag?

Take the Plunge

Walking through the door after a long day of work:

Isabella (she’s 5): Daddy, can we get in the pool?

Me: Honey, I just got home.

Iz (flashing her big grin): It’s refreshing!!

Me: I know. Can I please have a minute to myself?

Iz (blinking three times): It’s relaxing!

Me: Maybe. Give me a second. Please!

Iz (combining the two…): It’s re’vigort’ating…. I don’t know that word.

Me: Come on, Honey! I need some time.

The badgering continues off and on for about forty five minutes. When finally…

Iz: Can we get in the pool now?

As I’m sure you have predicted:

Me: Get you bathing suits on.

We eventually jump in, holding hands with Daddy in the middle. Then youngest to oldest. Then baby in the middle.

Check me on this:

Refreshingness: Well, the water had a slight chill, but it was a 90+ degree day. Check.

Relaxation: Hmm, splashing and swimming around. Oddly, exercise can be relaxing. News to me. Check.

Reinvigorating: Oh, I get it. Not just physical, but psychological, too. Check, and Mate.

I hate to be outplayed by a five-year-old. But it’s not the first time that’s happened. Today.

Daddy, can I jump into the deep end?


Summer Girls

79 degrees. Girls in the pool for five hours. They dove, they jumped, they cannon-balled, they “rescued” each other. No one drowned.

Yeah, Life often sucks. I know. Truly.

But, not today. At least, not for me. No, not today.

As Isabella just screamed, “You’re my best sister in the world.”

Julianna yells, “I love my sister!”

Then she jumps into the deep end.

I announce: Pizza! “Yay!”

They continue playing with each other, forgetting me. I can only watch.

Daddy/Daughter Fun Time?

Um… You have no idea.

Express Yourself

Isabella (walking into the kitchen): Daddy, did you get my milk yet?!

Me: Honey, I’m trying to cook. Keep your pants on!

Iz: But, Daddy. I’m wearing a skirt.

Me: Come on, Honey! It’s an expression. Like “Hold your water.”

Iz: But, I wanted milk.

Me: Crap. Sweetie. Hold your horses.

Iz: (blink)

Me: Pumpkin, do you know what an expression is?

Iz: No. I’m only five.

Me: (Heavy sigh.)

Iz: What’s a ‘spression?

Me: Honey, how long have you lived in this family?

Iz: Maybe you didn’t hear. I’m five. ’cause of all the yelling.

Me: Grrr…. Bubbles, in this family, we try to use as many words as possible to say something simple. Why say “wait” when you can yell from three rooms away, on the verge of tears, and dialing your therapist, “I’m doing the best I can, and you’ll get it when it is done.” These are called “expressions.” We are trying to keep the English language alive.

Iz: Daddy…

Me: Yes, Pup?

Iz: Get a grip.

Me: Get a what?

Iz: Yeah, I don’t know what means either. I’m only five. Hahahaha!

300 (not the movie)

Cuddling up with Julianna (the seven-year-old) at bedtime…

J: Daddy, you’re one of my best fathers ever.

Me: One of…? Exactly, how many fathers do you have?

J: Like… Uh, 300!

Me: Really, that’s news to me. And, I’m certain it will be news to Mommy. Seriously. Are you sure?

J: No, I mean… Zero!

Me: Hmmm… No fathers?! Now, I’m no biologist, but how do you figure?

J: Ha Ha. Just kidding. Sing me a lullaby. Then you’ll be the best father ever.

Me: And, if I don’t?

J: Still…. Best… Father… Zzzzzzz.

She still gets a “You Are My Sunshine.”

Father’s Day

Father’s Day was a couple of days ago. And, while I can’t say that it was the Best Father’s Day Ever (the MAN kept me working in the office for over 10 hours), it was the most recent. And, that makes it special.

I get home from work between dinner and bath time. Mommy and the girls have had a long day of playing and tears and loving and tears. They are now playing Rat-A-Tat-Cat, some crazy card game. Isabella (she’s 5) is losing badly. Julianna (she’s 7) says, “That’s Ok, Isabella, we can play again.”

Mommy steps in. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, it’s bath time.

They lather up. They laugh. They get soap in their eyes. They yell for a towel.

Mommy brushes the knots out of their hair with few complaints.

They cuddle up with me on the sofa and watch Mythbusters.

Julianna: Ooooo! I love the Science show!

Isabella: Yay! Science!

The girls drift off to sleep, and I carry them to bed, one at a time.

It’s getting late. I’m sleepy. I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Gonna be another long day.

So, I say to all my brothers-in-fatherhood out there: Here’s to…



As the end of the school year, as well as the long drives to school, looms, I’m afraid I’ll lose opportunities to delight the girls in my non-fiction fiction stories (you know, stories with no basis in reality, but which are plausible enough that a five-year-old could buy into them. Like the time I lived with Santa Claus — See a couple posts below…)

As you probably know, I work a lot for the Walt Disney Studios (if you didn’t know, click the Bio button up at the top.) The girls (Julianna, 7, and Isabella, 5) love Mickey and Goofy and all of the gang. And, I admit, turns out to be a cool place to work.

Anyhoo… My tale begins:

Julianna: Daddy, tell us a non-fiction fiction story!

Iz: Yay!

Me: Ok. What do you want to hear?

J: Tell us about the time you worked at Disneyland.

Iz: Yeah! Diz-Nee-Land!

I take the next several seconds to vamp while I develop a rough outline of my story. By the way, traffic on the 170 through North Hollywood is murder at 8:00am. But once you hit the 134, it’s usually smooth sailing through Burbank. If you’re heading south on the 5, though, I recommend getting off at Victory and driving past the zoo…

(Did you see what I did there? Vamping?)

Me: Oh, let me tell you about the time I worked at Disneyland. Everything I’m about to tell you…

J: Yeah, Yeah… Totally true. Whatever. Get on with the story.

Me: Tough crowd. Anyway… When I was a kid, I worked at Disneyland.

Iz: How old were you?

Me: I don’t know. Let’s say… 7.

Iz: Julianna! You’re 7! Maybe you can work there, too!

Me: Yeah, probably not. New Child Labor Laws.

Iz: Oh… What’s that?

Me (pushing ahead): So… When I was a kid, I worked at Disneyland and got to be… (pause for the drama)… Dopey!

The Girls: Yay!

J: Daddy, was that because you’re funny looking?

Me: Uh. No.

Iz: Was it because you’re dumb? Hahahahaha!

Me: Girls, please! I was Dopey because I was a kid. They wouldn’t let me be Grumpy or Doc. Though, because of my allergies, they thought about making me Sneezy.

J: I don’t get it.

Me: Sometimes, the jokes are just for me… Moving along… So, one time Cinderella and Snow White…

J: Wait a minute. Dadda, I thought you grew up in Virginia. They don’t have Disneyland in Virginia. It’s in California. Where WE live.

Iz: Yeah. California.

Uh oh. They’re on to me. The fiction part of non-fiction fiction stories is about to be revealed.

Me: Hold on, Honey. Uh… Look at all of this traffic! Dang! I knew I should have gotten off at Victory and gone by the zoo!

J: Oooo, Daddy! Can you tell us about the time you worked at the zoo?

Me: Yes! Did I tell you about the time I worked at the zoo? Everything I’m about to tell you is absolutely true. It all happened. For real…


Rise and Shine

Recently, someone told me that Daddy/Daughter Fun Time gave them a reason to get out of bed in the morning. (Yay, I’m better than the SNOOZE button!)

But, the more I thought about it, the more concerned I got. Did my friend say “A reason” or “THE reason.”

ATTENTION FUN TIME FANS: This is a silly little blog. It will not solve the economic crisis, it will not cure your ailments, it will not provide for your family. If this blog is the only reason you have to get out of bed in the morning, I urge you: Please live your life to the fullest, meet people, travel, eat something decadent, become the person you were meant to be. Be happy.

‘Cause, seriously, I don’t need that kind of pressure.

The Other F Word

How has Daddy/Daughter Fun Time missed this? A documentary entitled “The Other F Word” chronicles the struggles of Punk/Rock musicians as they balance their careers with their role as a father (hint: that’s the F word.) I only caught the last half-hour or so, but this movie is moving and beyond poignant: The Chili Peppers’ Flea plays Bach’s Minuet in G with his daughter. Art Alexakis from Everclear describes how crappy his father was (“I wish I had the father that I am.”)

Yeah, I’m reaching for a Kleenex, but in the most masculine way possible.