This is a story for the fathers of daughters, please share with them although moms will also find humor in it.
I had a daddy’s little girl. As an infant, I curled her up in my arms during her worst moments and she became peaceful. It drove mom crazy to see how she calmed down instantly. I read to her every night before bedtime starting early on. Her favorite was the Disney Princesses books my mother bought her. It was not enough to just read to her and I made up voices to go along with the story.
Around five years old, I mentioned Ariel sleeping until the prince kissed her back to life. “No, dad that was Aurora, not Ariel,” came at me with authority and indignation. This comment proceeded with a five-minute lecture on the differences between the two. Only after satisfying her concern over the lack of my knowledge of Disney Princesses did she relent and allowed me to continue with my day.
Fast forward to my thirteen-year-old and not my little girl anymore as we watched a Marvel movie together. This movie introduced several other characters into the plot with another faux pa by me going into a commercial break. “Is that Poison Ivy?”
With an extended eye roll, “Poison Ivy is DC. (Duh, a two-year-old knows that) That is Natasha Romanoff. Don’t you know anything?” Luckily the commercial break was only three minutes long or she would still be lecturing me to this day. Apparently, DC and Marvel may not interchange at any time. Her brief sermon on the devastating effects of combining them compared to a fire and brimstone preacher on the end of the world.
Did I mention my dog is a Karen? For the past three days, Ohio shivered through near-freezing temperatures. The previous three days we enjoyed eighty-degree weather. (28 to 0 for my metric friends) During the warmer nights, I opened the window to allow fresh air into the room for sleeping. Sleep came blissfully as the cool spring air wafted over the room and all was right with the world.
Until about twelve-thirty in the very early morning. Ginger, our ever-watchful Karen starts with a quick “Arf,” in her sleep. Several more proceeding “Arfs,” as she wakes from her slumber. I think what is she yapping about when I hear the call from the coyotes off in the distance and coming closer.
The whole of the house awakes to her singing the song of her people out the window at the coyotes. “Arrrrrooooorrrrooo” streams from her mouth only stopping for another deep inhale of air. It culminates in me slamming the window shut and yelling at her to go back to bed.
She lays down for almost thirty seconds and then decides it time to go out. Mom hollers out, “No go back to sleep.” Ginger replies with the nastiest and foulest of gas attack she could muster. Our resident Karen gets her way when mom lets her out.
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