Humor is also a way of saying something serious. - T. S. Eliot

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Prince that Wears Pink Lacy Underwear

It has come to my attention that the girls believe Dave to be our daddy.  Not just their daddy, but mine as well.  There has been a series of events that have led to me making this conclusion, including comments made when the princess on the Disney movie kisses her prince at the end and the girls always say, "Snow White/Cinderella/Jasmine, etc is kissing her daddy."

Here's something else that turned the light bulb on for me:

  • "Mom, someday when you grow up, you can be like daddy."  Ella

  • The girls gave Dave a hard time this past weekend when I headed to the gym and he had to cook dinner.  He is S-L-O-W in the kitchen and I can hardly stand to watch, so as a favor to me as well as his ego, I disappear to the gym while he slaves over whatever I have planned for our dinner.  The girls could not understand why he couldn't come outside.  He finally said, "Mommy has  more practice at this so she is really fast at getting it done.  I am slower than her, so I can't take you outside before dinner."

Sophia's comeback, "Well, you are taller than mommy."  Hence he is supposedly older and wiser.

  •  A couple years ago Ella gave me a clue that Dave is the only adult in the home.  Wandering through Kohl's, we went by the lingerie section and Ella asked for the pretty/frilly/lacey underwear.  I had told her "no," that those underwear were for "big people."  

Ella processed that piece of information and then -- in front of a few other shoppers issued her conclusion -- "oh, like for daddy?  Can we get him some of these? They are pretty.  Maybe you can get some when you get big like daddy, too."

  • And then there's the whole issue when it comes to reading.  The twins are interested in learning to read. They want to know what every single mother fricking fracking sign on the entire face of the earth says and after a while, I get tired of answering, so I respond with, "I don't know." 

They banked that comment with all the rules I have about how many words can be on a page of a book when we go to the library. "Nope. You can't get that. Too many words."

The other night, Ella picked a book for us to read before bed then put it back, reminding us all that, "We can't read that book with mommy, just daddy.  It has too many words and mommy isn't good at reading."

  • And finally, there's the whole issue with the mess in the house eliciting the comment from Sophia just before daddy walked in from work, "You are busted like a bad girl."

What? No I'm not!  That man wouldn't know clean if it hit him upside the head!  But instead, I played on it, "Oh my gosh! You are right! Help me clean up before he sees this mess!"

When the kid thinks I'm gonna get busted, she kicks her cleaning into high gear and together, the house is whipped into shape for his royal highness to arrive.

No comments:

Post a Comment