On Top of My Dad Game

Man, I feel good tonight. Here’s why:

• I’m off of work tomorrow.
• I’m drinking a beer.
• I only got bear-clawed in the face by the baby twice tonight, or three times. Wasn’t even that bad, she went light on me.
• Rachelle is at dinner which means I’m not getting guilted into picking up shoes and feeling like a monster because I didn’t put my belt away.
• She’s bringing me home shrimp stuffed with crab meat.

But I’ll tell you something, my trip to Carvel to get ice cream with the baby is what kicked the night off on a positive note.

Rachelle went out to dinner with her friends, or some guy, I wasn’t really listening…so I decided I’d take the baby for ice cream. One of the voices in my head warned me of the potential pitfalls of bringing her out in public without backup but I went ahead with it anyway.

Carvel was packed. I felt like I was in a nightclub, but was feeling confident in my parenting abilities and put Layla down to let her cruise the store at her leisure while I stood in line. She pointed at other children, salivated over peoples’ ice cream cones, but didn’t get into any trouble. As I put my order in, Layla wandered a little too far away for my liking. I called her name ONCE and she walked back to me. I felt like Tom Brady, pre-injury. I was in command.

I paid for our two cups of ice cream and turned around to find Layla tugging on the pant leg of some guy. This guy happened to be my old football coach from high school. I picked Layla up and said: “Hey, Mr. Ledden, how are you?” We talked for a few seconds when I felt the first bitch-slap/bear-claw across my face. Great. When you run into a guy like that from your past, there’s a part of you that wants to prove how well you’ve grown up and matured. Instead I’ve proven I can’t handle a 26lb girl.

Anyway, degradation aside, it went well. It was pouring outside, and I was carrying two ice creams. I scooped Layla up with one arm like I was recovering a fumble and jogged to the car. We both sat in the back seat and ate our ice cream. We listened to the new Eminem CD and I taught her how to ‘raise the roof’ with her hands.

When we got home we had an awesome time together. She did throw a ceramic piggy-bank at my back but nobody’s perfect. At 8:45 she held my hand as we walked down the hall and to her crib. She gave me a kiss, told me ‘night night’ and I haven’t heard a peep from her since.

So here I sit, drinking a beer, enjoying the sound of silence, my belt laying where it shouldn’t. When Rachelle comes home it’ll disrupt the balance of my harmony, but that’s ok… she’ll have stuffed shrimp with her.