Monday, June 17, 2013

Father's Day

My husband. Our son's father. He doesn't always say the right thing. In celebratory fashion (I swear!), here are some actual quotes:


"Haha; you look just like a shark! No, I mean your face looks like a shark's face, in profile ... why are you upset? You love sharks!" (To me, in what he claims was complimentary intent.)

"You're definitely not my mom." (To me, in a come-hither voice, following a conversation listing various traits of family members, and thinking he was using a good line to come on to me.)

"No more than usual." (After I asked if a skirt I was trying on made me look fat.)

"Haha! Take THAT." (After placing son's Sorry! pawn back in start and beating him at the board game, when son was 4.)

"What does the wrestler have to do with anything?" (After I'd made a Sid and Nancy reference, gotten a blank stare, and clarified, "You know, Sid Vicious?")

Him: "Mmm; I love when you've showered." Me: "Thanks a lot." Him: "No, not that. I mean, I like that I can tell you showered!" (He thought this was better, somehow.)

"We had a good time while you were on your vacation!" (About time spent with our son, when I'd come home from two weeks of intense work toward my master's degree.)

"I'd like the TV to myself for a while, if you have other things to do. Sometimes I like to watch more grownup shows." (Then he turned on Dragon Ball Z.)

"No. I know it's a spider. It's always a spider." (After our son told him to open a drawer and "see what's in there." He was wrong. It was two spiders.)

"Look, if we're trying to leave and be polite, and we say it's past bedtime and you're really tired, YOU ARE." (To our son, upon finally leaving a social engagement after many attempts.)

"Careful with the food container on the shelf. It's not food. I found a giant beetle at work, and I figured you guys would like it." (OK. That one was pretty cool.)

"Awww, fat little legs!" (As he looked at the warped reflection of my legs in a car window.)

"If you don't finish getting ready for bed RIGHT NOW, you're gonna..." (To son, threateningly.)
"What was the punishment for that?" (To me, whispered.)

"I'm never, ever, ever, ever going to like Jar Jar, and talking about him only makes me hate him more."

"You promised to tell me the abridged version of that cartoon. Nine minutes is not an abridged version."

"No, see, Optimus Prime was originally Orion Pax. He was kind of like a librarian. He didn't become Optimus Prime until he got the Matrix of Leadership. At least in one version." (To son, earning major cool-dad points and starting a looooooong discussion about Transformers lore.)

"That's pretty much all I know about Optimus' background. Like I said five times already." (To our son, an hour later.)

"I don't really know why Alpha Trion has different roles. I don't know why Galvatron changes sometimes and I don't even really know who Ultra Magnus is. I also don't know why their transformations don't make sense to fit their robot bodies sometimes. I've told you everything I know!" (To our son, 30 minutes later.)

"I'M DONE TALKING ABOUT TRANSFORMERS; EAT YOUR PASTA!" (To our son, some time after that. This is how most of these conversations end.)

He has a hard time saying the right thing, sometimes. It must be hard dealing with a couple of overtalkers, overanalyzers, over-everything-ers. Maybe he's a glutton for punishment. He's also a good sport, though, who would probably admit that he did, indeed say "Aww, fat little legs," and that it's not a good idea -- no more so than, say, expecting your 11-year-old to leave an interrogation at one question and answer.

He does, however, nearly always do the right thing. He provides. He works his ass off. He brings home bugs. He brings home that cake we like with the cookies on top of the frosting. He actually likes grocery shopping. He makes a conscientious effort to show love and start conversations with our son (even after past experiences of never-ending conversation traps). He horse plays (which I suck at) and keeps us grounded (which I'm not too great at either); all the while playing to my strengths as well. We make a kick-ass parenting team, and we're lucky to have him.

Happy Father's Day, babe. I love you. For your present, I promise not to share any of the really bad quotes, including that poem you wrote me in high school.


2 comments:

Margarethe Brummermann said... Best Blogger Tips

Still laughing. Not sure I'm reminded of my father or my husband. Never thought I'd married my father? Maybe we all do, on some level...

Kimberly Hosey said... Best Blogger Tips

Haha; I think so! My dad and husband seem to share a certain kind of foot-in-mouth disease, irreverent humor, and love of family.