Mark has been delighting lately in his ability to embarrass our daughters. Maj goes insane. Kallan goes insane as well, but Kallan?
She fights back.
The three of us are standing outside of a store, waiting for Maj to complete her purchases within. Mark starts singing a song (badly) and dancing. Not really dancing, exactly . . . just that sort of upper-body sway and arm-swing thing that dorky dads do sometimes.
Kallan rushes at him and pins his hands to his sides, “Stop that, Daddy! You are humiliating me!”
Mark pulls his arms free and raises his hands above his head . . . continues swaying to some unheard dorky dad beat, “What? What’s wrong with dancing? I’m just happy and dancing and moving to the music.”
Kallan leaps frantically against him, reaching for his arms, “Stop that! There is no music! People can see you, you know! You are not invisible! I am humiliated! Is that what you want?”
He leans down and kisses her head, “Yup. More than anything. That’s part of the joy of being a dad.”
He hugs her, picks her up as she squirms in embarrassment, “And guess what else? I am going to get one of those T-shirts that says I Love My Daughter. And it will have an arrow on it that points to you.”
She shrieks in horror.
He puts her down, “And guess what else? I am going to get you a matching T-shirt that says I Love My Daddy, and it will have an arrow that points to me! Won’t that be awesome? You and me, all loving one another. With arrows.”
She shrieks again and dances before him, “But guess what? When we wear these shirts together? I will move to the other side of you. Like this,” and she dances to the other side of Mark.
She looks up him triumphantly, “and from over here? My arrow will point away from you, and I will be able to claim any random normal dad who passes by. Ooooh . . . there’s the Daddy I love! And there! And there!”
She jumps and leaps as she acts out the arrow-pointing that she will be doing at more normal fathers than her own.
Kallan kills me.
So I try to help Mark out, “Oh, babe! You should get a T-shirt with a photo on it! A picture of Kallan!”
Mark is delighted, “Yes! Then there will no confusion! And above the photo will be the words I Love My Baby Girl.”
Kallan shrieks again, “Don’t call me baby girl! Don’t say baby.”
He reaches for her again, “But you are my baby girl . . . Baby Girl.”
Kallan turns sassy again, “OK, then. I will also get a T-shirt and it will have your photo on it, Daddy. And above your photo? Will be these words . . . I Love My Baby Daddy. See how you like it.”
I love my baby daddy?
I . . . am . . . dead.
Oh my god. Kallan kills me.
We collect Maj and drive to the next of our errands.
At our next location? For some reason, Mark is unable to correctly pull the car into the parking space, and he hits the curb not once, not twice, but three times as he maneuvers. I am laughing hysterically.
Because, people? He is not trying to parallel park. He is just trying to make a sharp right turn and pull forward into a space that is sided by curb. My mocking laughter flusters him so completely that he finally abandons that parking space. Heads across the lot to a larger uncurbed space.
Which sends me right over the edge. So fucking funny.
Mark is annoyed, “OK, ladies. If Dummy Mommy can get it together, let’s get this last bit of shopping done.”
Dummy Mommy?
Snort!
I lean over into his space, “Sweet-talking you! I love you!”
I touch his cheek with my palm, “I love my baby daddy!”
Snort!
And then from Kallan . . .
“Wait . . . what?”
HHAHAAAAAHAAA!
Once in the mid 80′s, fully decked out like a member of Duran Duran (electric blue ankle granny boots smothered in black lace and fingerless black leather gloves included), Mom had the misfortune of taking me to ‘the Mall’ on a Saturday late afternoon. I thought I was hot shit with my warpaint, 80′s ‘fro, and fedora and that I was waaaaay too cool to be seen with my MOTHER. At the MALL. On a Saturday. Like, totally.
I made the huge tactical error of asking her, actually asking her, to walk either 10 steps in front of or behind me. Huge mistake. Huge.
My quiet, laid back mom? Followed me around the mall as I bolted for the exit shouting, “This is my daughter! She’s with ME! I’m with my daughter, Brooke, at the mall, on a Saturday because we are BEST FRIENDS!!!!!!!”
I was humilitated at the time, but man we laugh about it until we cry now. What a asshole thing for me to do. And I’m totally expecting karma to come back and bite me in the ass big time in a few years. Cause I so deserve it.
I am dying over here.
Giggling and snorting, tears running down my face.
I have done things like this to Maj.
We were out shopping not too long ago, and Maj got all pissed off and said to me, “Everything you do is embarrassing. I just don’t even want to be with you. Just don’t even walk with me in this next store, Mother.”
And so then I followed my eleven year old daughter through the next store with arms outstretched for an embrace I knew wasn’t coming, “Maj! I love you, Maj! You’re my baby! You’re breaking my heart, Maj! Come back! I love you! Baby! I love you! Please let me walk with you! Why are you so cruel to your mother?”
Maj hates me sometimes.
Snort!
I was a bit humorless myself once. Actually it was more like anal and humorless and utterly serious about everything. Yet I walked around looking like I was practicing to be a Twisted Sister stand in while thinking I was so cool. And I did that in all seriousness.
Sad, really. Sad and delusional.
Maj? Is so going to appreciate this one day. For reals.
I so hope so.
I really really do.
Poor Maj.
We are a source of constant embarrassment to her.
Sigh.
Kallan = 1
Kallan’s score?
Is way fucking higher than 1.
Sigh.
I guess it depends on whether there was a comma or not.
No comma.
Baby daddy.
Google it.
Snort!
Too funny. I love my baby daddy too!
Snort!
Happy sighs.
My mom was always the one that would try to embarrass us. My dad? He just embarrassed us without trying. In fact, he would embarrass us while trying so hard to not embarrass us. Ahh, happy memories.
And Baby Daddy? Freaking hilarious.
Happy sighs.
Love you.
I about inhaled my Chipotle thru my nose while reading this. Just so you know.
Baby daddy. OMG. I’m crying.
My best friend in high school used to call my parents mom & dad. One evening, we all went to a school function of some sort. So the 4 of us are standing in the lobby, in line to go into the auditorium & my dad is poking at my friend’s hair (this was the era of 9′ aqua net bangs). My friend says to my dad, in her usual loud & robust voice “Daaad! Don’t touch me there!” and then realized we were not only in public, but *crowded* public.
I nearly passed out from hysterics. She was bright red & my dad was kinda purple & pretending not to know us. Good times.
Snort!
That is an awesome story!
Daaad! Don’t touch me there!
Snort!
While this is funny. I dont understand why dads feel it necessary to poke fun at their kids. Not all kids can take a joke. Sometimes things that are said can scar a child for life.
I was called sam sausauge as a young child by my step dad, who I loved dearly.
but I can tell you my whole life has been spent working on NOT being fat.
Ugh.
My children are doomed.
You have to listen to this song..preferably with Mark. Loudly. Word.
http://s0.ilike.com/play#B-Rock+%26+The+Bizz:My+Baby+Daddy:199121:s601134.11625100.21532039.0.2.142%2Cstd_dbceb33cbb2443658078a99af19a7b7
You’re welcome. ;)
Bwahahahahaha!
That is awesome!
Thanks, you!
every once in a while I come across a t-shirt in a catalog…”embarrassing the children – just another service I provide”
don’t have the t-shirt but use the phrase quite frequently.
That is awesome!
Just awesome.
I always tell the girls that embarrassing them?
That’s part of my job.
A good part.
But a job, nevertheless.
kallan is already humiliated? isn’t she, like, 9? oh dear. she doesn’t even know what’s comin! baby daddy has many more tricks up his sleeve…
I know!
Mark cannot wait until the girls start bringing boys around.
He is going to be evil.
Happy sighs.
Hey, if we don’t tease and harass our kids a little, what will we do with all that taunting, mocking energy? That’s right; we put it all towards our dogs. That just ain’t right.
Most of the time, my dogs are nicer than my kids.
Ummm . . . I also torture the dogs.
Just so you know.
And pretty much anyone else who come into my sphere of torturing influence.
That’s how I roll.
Haha, I gotta say, I love Kallan. She’s a riot. Your whole family cracks me up. Thanks for the laughs today!
Thanks, you!
Glad to have been giggly today.
I love my baby daddy! I have no words. laughing too hard!
Oh! Kallan! … Oops? hahahaha!
Hee hee!