Badd Daddie

Okay:

If you don't have kids, this may not be funny. But if you're planning on having them, it surely is educational.

So, my daughter and I had a little episode this weekend. Sometimes I worry that if I reveal too much about my kid in this here blog of mine, and I through some bizarre twist of fate become successful one day, and these writing are unearthed and made truly public, then she will hate me for the rest of her life.

But this was just too funny to keep to myself.

So, it's my theory that every parent has his or her area of expertise. Something that you have to offer your child that no one else can deliver. Mine is an unwavering insistence that she do things on her own.

I don't know what kind of pathology is behind it, but I'm really serious about it.

Anyways, she wanted to play Monopoly. Now, she's only 7 and the box clearly says from 8 to Adult, but I figured what the hell. In case you've forgotten, Monopoly is a horribly complicated game. The instructions are, like, eight pages long with subheadings like "Mortgaging Properties" and "Purchasing Utilities". But, fuck it, right?

So, we start playing and the kid decides she wants to buy, like, Vermont Avenue, or something. $260. So, I tell her to count out $260 and give it to the bank. She looks at her stack of play money, the different colored bills, and shrugs her shoulders.

"You know how to count money, sweetheart. Count out $260."

She got really frustrated after a while and said she didn't want to buy Vermont Avenue anymore.

"Well, now you have to buy Vermont Avenue. Either you buy Vermont Avenue or there's no dessert for you, young lady." Then I left the room to give her some privacy.

Eventually we sorted the money thing out. As it turns out, she didn't have enough small bills to come up with exactly $260, and that's what was confusing her. She did, however, have 2 $500 bills. So I had to explain the whole concept of change. But by the time we got through all that, she really didn't want to play anymore.

And neither did I.

So, she said she was hungry. I told her that I had bought a bag of Honey Dijon Kettle chips just for her and they were sitting on the kitchen counter. She went and got them and brought them to me.

"I'm not opening them for you. If you want some chips, open them yourself."

She gave the bags a few light tugs, then shrugged her shoulders. "You can open that bag of chips yourself, honey. I wouldn't tell you to if I didn't think you could do it."

She gave the bag a few more tugs then bust out crying.

"Jesus," I exclaimed. "What's the problem?"

No answer. Just sobbing.

"Well, can you go to your room until you finish crying? I'm trying to watch The Godfather."

She came back a few moments later with a letter she wrote to her grandmother. It read:

"I am a dethly scard sad kid. and I'm hungry/starving. My Dad won't help me with enything hes beyeng sellfish and mean"

It was followed by another letter.

"My Dad is beying unrispectfull unfayr and meen"

This one had pictures. There were two hearts. One had a smiley face that said "befor". The other had a sad face that said "now".

I know. Isn't she adorable?

My sister said I should have them framed. Of course, this is the kind of thing school counselors report you to child protective services for these days. So, I "processed" with her. (It's a fancy word I picked up in teacher education class. It means that after you discipline a child, you should talk to them about why they were disciplined so that they understand it wasn't personal.)

I tried to explain to her that the chips and the Monopoly money are like the world. You can't just sit there and wait for someone to do it for you because you're a little intimidated. You have to take initiative and give it a go on your own. "If you believe in yourself, you can open those chips!" I exclaimed. "Now if you're not strong enough to open the chips with your hands, then how else can you open them?"

She thought for a moment. "Can I use scissors?"

"Of course you can."

She cut open her bag of chips and went in the next room to watch Hannah Montana. And things were back to normal, for a while.

Next stop. Menstruation.


Thanks for reading.

GOBAMA!

LISTEN TO MY MUSIC AND WATCH VIDEOS AT:
http://blackbroadway-online.com

Factoid: She beat me twice in Uno this weekend, fair and square.