The 4-Year Old Goes from Student to Master

That day started out like any other.  Nothing really special.  But somewhere between Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (Oh, Toodles) in the morning and the reading of Bad Kitty for the 423rd time (even though I like that book)... something happened.

To the casual observer, that day was as normal as the rising and setting of the sun.  But, I'm not a casual observer (I mean, I am... but not for the sake of this story) and this was NO normal day (grammatical error intended).  For those who missed it, I experienced a game-changer in the Father/Daughter relationship.

First off, my 4-year targeted me.  I was minding my own business.  I was just being a good father.  I was thinking of my beautiful wife and kids and what I can do to enrich their lives (Do you believe that?).  Then there was this sweet little voice... "Daddy, I wanna play the ballgame." (for those not living in our house, that is Wii Bowling)  "I wanna pick 2." (again... for y'all (oh, yeah... I threw some Southern in there) that meant she wanted ME to play so there would be 2 people playing).

So we start bowling...  Everything is like it should be.  She bowled a 9-Spare.  I bowled a Strike (now that's what I'm talking about.  I'm technically winning)!  She then bowled a strike.  And I bowled an 8-Spare.  So we are tied now (technically she has the advantage at this point).  Then she makes the normal mistake of opening a frame (didn't knock down all 10 pens).  This is usually where I take control and ride this horsey to victory!  So I bowled an 8-Spare and felt pretty confident that the turning point in the game had just happened in the 3rd frame.  Well, it had.  Just not like I expected.  Here is where little Ms. Sneaky-pants pulled off the greatest "upset" since the Giants beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl.  Or since I found out they were cancelling Jericho.  Or EVEN since finding out the Flava Flav had any kind of TV show (especially one with women fighting for his love... WHAT???).

She started bowling strike, after strike, after strike...  It wasn't even funny anymore.  I would tell you the score but I passed out around the 7th frame when I knew I could no longer beat her.  I had already blocked it out of my memory by the end of the game until the little snot (and I say that with all of the love and affection than can be taken from that word) pulled her next move... "Daddy, take a picture." WHAT THE... Wait!  Take a picture???  For what?  Are you planning on framing the picture and putting it on one of those little motivational "FAIL" posters with sayings under it like: "When it comes to Wii Bowling... 35 is the new 3!" or "Daddy, bowling is not like baseball.  You are SUPPOSED to get strikes!"

I will NOT have that!  I am the MOTH!

She finally beat me for the first time. She also baited me.  She also hustled me. I didn't play her again for about a week.  She had gotten good but didn't let me know it.  And to add insult to injury, when I DID start playing her again, she would do the same thing.  She would play bad against her mom and sister but when it was time to play me she would get out some bowling shoes, a wrist brace, a monogrammed bowling shirt and a headband with the logo of her sponsor, Nike, stitched on it.

Since that day she has really stomped me a few times (including this one that she made me take a picture of while we were in Florida - I'll let you guess who is who).  If y'all (South again) were to watch her you would think she is just being an adorable, innocent little 4-year old that just has a knack for play Wii Bowling.  I'm not even going to try to convince you otherwise.  She's too good at what she does (not that you would believe me anyway).  But I will tell you this...I know better.  I know what her role is in the family dynamics as well as mine.  And right now, my goal is to show her that I will NOT be someone's motivational "FAIL" poster.

Where are the Penguin PJs?

Yeah, I did it!  And I would do it again!  I made a statement and I'm sticking to it.  Some may say it was petty and misguided but to them I say, with the style as grace of a literary genius.... :-P <--- Oh, yeah... Don't mess with the QUE because you might get the tongue! (For some reason the BULL and the HORNS original quote sounds much more... menacing.  I'm not sure why).

This time of the year becomes interesting.  My wife is in retail so she works all the time and late hours.  So that means I get to spend a lot of fatherly time with the kids.  That ALSO means that for those few hours of the day... what I say goes!

If I want to feed the kids Cheerios for dinner (Multi-grain, though.  I'm a good father)... I can. And I'm not saying I have ever done that.  I'm just saying that if I wanted to, there is no one there to stunt my awesome parenting skills.  If I wanted to feed the baby beans when I know it's my wife's night to deal with her... I can.  Again, that's not to say that I would (or have EVER done that).  That's just to prove the point that for these few hours each night during this time of the year are MINE.  (I really should tell you the story about me taking the 4-year old and the 1-year old to the "salon" to get the 4-year old's hair cut.)

With that unwritten rule (which apparently should be written), I have the freedom to dress the kids anyway I choose.  A few nights ago I had one of those "I'm in charge" nights.  So I went through the mental checklist.  I played with the kids... check.  I fed the kids...check (I will neither confirm nor deny the involvement of any said Cheerios).  I gave them baths...check (separate baths, of course.  Those who read this post know why). I put the little one to bed...check.  Now it's time to get the 4-year old ready.

This is where the fun comes in.  She hates brushing her teeth.  So there is always this song and dance when it comes to the teeth brushing thing.  It normally starts with the word NO (GRRR) and it usually ends with me giving my VERY authoritative, VERY stern MANLY voice commanding her to brush or else.  I even stand up sometimes for the affect (Since I'm 6'3" and she's much, much smaller.  That technique has the opposite affect on my wife, though).  She's pretty smart, however.  So I have to watch what and how I tell her things.  If I just tell her to brush her teeth but don't tell her how long, she's usually done in 2.7 seconds (personal best).

Now it is time to change into her night-night clothes.  She always wants to wear her Penguin PJs.  This is an easy one.  But of course... not this night.  When I go to look for them, they are no where to be found.  GREAT!  That usually means they are currently in one of 2 places: the washer or the dryer.  Either way, that's not going to help me now.  DING, DING!  That signaled the beginning of Round 2.  Time for the yelling, kicking and screaming (and that's just me)!  I get to spend the next 10 minutes trying to convince her that her Minnie Mouse PJs are WAY COOLER (they aren't).  What about the Butterfly PJs? NO! What about the Flower PJs? NO!  What about the Panda PJs (which are too big because they are her older sister's hand-me-downs but she likes them anyway)? NO!  What about these???

I reach into a pile of newly dried clean clothes and grab some PJs.  Hmmm... These are cool.  What do you think about these?  And there is was... the 4-year olds approval.  YES!  That's all I needed.  So I put the PJ bottoms on.  Wow, these are kinda tight and a little short.  This is probably the last time she gets to wear these.  I'm not sure if I said that out loud or not, but I was thinking it.  Now for the PJ top.  I had a little problem getting it over her fro (even though I just had it cut a few days earlier).  But I finally shoved her head through the neck hole.  These PJs were too much trouble.  This is definitely going to be the last time she wears these.  4-year old in her night-nights... check!

Parenting skills were in tact.  I started the night with 2 kids and ended with 2 kids (the other was at gymnastics) so that night was a good night. Until... my beautiful wife came home.  As the 4-year old sees mommy, she goes running to her yelling "Mommy, Mommy!" like normal.  But what wasn't normal was my wife's expression.  She was trying to keep a straight face.  She looked a little confused.  She knew it was daddy's night but something was still wrong.  She looked at me and with a very lovely tone asked...

"Why is the 4-year old wearing the baby's 12 - 18 month PJs?"

... What???

... That can't be right.

I really wish I had a good excuse for that one.  All I had was... "She wanted to wear them."  (Which was true) I said that with as much sincerity as I could muster all the while still trying to figure out how that happened.  But my wife knew.  She knew that I had a nice, classic daddy FAIL moment.  And I knew she knew when she fell out laughing!  Then I started kinda laughing (trying to not give it away that I didn't even notice it was the baby's clothes).  But when I viewed the scene with my new perspective I noticed that our daughter did have her Homer Simpson on.  As well as her father... DOH!

We let her sleep in the PJs.  It wasn't cutting off the circulation (that I could tell).  She liked them.  AND she wasn't going anywhere.  So I thought all was done.  But I guess my wife's FaceBook Status Update had a different set of plans.  The next morning, it decided to let the world know that the 4-year old looked like the Incredible HULK that morning and proceeded to tell why.  It turned a wonderfully fun, beautiful and PRIVATE father/daughter moment into something PUBLIC.

Needless to say, dirty or clean, the ONLY PJs my 4-year old will ever wear (on my shift) are the Penguin PJs.  Take that, FaceBook! (notice how I didn't point the finger at my wife.  I blamed FaceBook.  I'm more than a foot taller than she is but sometimes when I stand up next to her I still find myself looking up.)