The Man What Made You.
To celebrate Father’s Day, Simone demonstrated the proper way to turn a solitary, contemplative shower into…not that:
When we attempt to cleanse ourselves, Simone likes to whip the curtain open and stand there in the spray until she is soaked through, occasionally trying to twist the hot water spigot, for sport. Don’t bother suggesting we close the door to keep her out, unless you want to see all the glassware in our house shatter with one sonic baby scream of fear and mourning, especially if her father is the one behind the door.
Simone is a boisterous kid lately, swooping her hands about, scratching people’s faces, flinging herself bonelessly backward with no prior notice. Scott bears the brunt of this—she clambors over him squealing and grabbing at his nose to wake him up in the mornings, she rides on his shoulders and pulls his hair, she yanks his ears and pokes at his teeth. Today I wrote a mournful, folksy country tune about it:
Don’t pinch the man what made you
don’t bite him and don’t scratch
Don’t climb him like an obstacle
please leave both ears attached
Your daddy’s not a step stool
he’s not a trampoline
So, don’t pinch the man what made you
or knee him in his spleen
I wish I knew how to transcribe music, but I don’t, so you will have to imagine the tune on your own, somewhere between Brewer & Shipley and Patsy Cline, sung with a gently twanging southern accent. I write alot of songs while I am going about my days, but this is my first country piece since “One Eyed Whore,” and I wrote that one a good ten years ago.
Anyhow, it was a lovely day, here. Scott boycotts Father’s Day, because apparently it is a made-up holiday blah blah blah, but I found myself noticing the two of them more than usual this afternoon, how much they adore each other, and thinking how lucky Simone is to have my husband for a father. She should probably go a bit easier on him, however, if she’d like him to survive to her teen years.
UPDATED TO ADD:
My intrepid readers have just informed me that Father’s Day is, in fact, NEXT Sunday, not today, as I was told by my husband. At least I think he was the one who told me it was this weekend, or perhaps I just assumed, and was too lazy to look it up on a calendar. All that treacly sentiment wasted on an ordinary Sunday. I guess it was a made-up holiday after all…
24 Comments
Isn’t Father’s Day next Sunday??
Um, isn’t Father’s Day next Sunday?
I can transcribe your tune for you, no problem. Just send it to me in a little mp3 file.
Yeah, you just scared me big time with your early Father’s Day post. Don’t do that! I do like your song, though.
Yup, another one scared by the early Father’s Day wishes. Today is Flag Day though. Perhaps a patriotic dity instead?
For what it’s worth, I thought today was Father’s Day as well. Until my mother set me straight, that is.
I’ve been super confused about it this year, and husband yesterday expected breakfast in bed this morning. Hah! He will wait one more week. (if I am not too tired from Rocking the Garden)
Every day is a good day to celebrate good fathers. There are so few of them.
My hubby feels much better that he wasn’t the only one to think today was Father’s Day!
I couldn’t figure out why he was acting all pissy with me. Then this afternoon we were in the car and he said something about not having anything we have to do next Sunday. And I reminded him that we have camp visitation and that it’s Father’s Day. And he said “no, today is Father’s Day.” And said “Nooo…next Sunday is Father’s Day.” And we went back and forth like that for a while.
And then it hit me that that was why he was being such a dick, because he thought we had forgotten.
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh at him or feel sorry for him!
I’m impressed that you know Brewer and Shipley
I was so happy to read that someone else thought it was Father’s Day today, too! I can’t believe I talked about it all week and nobody set me straight. Luckily I found out before I left the twins w/Daddy to go get a pedicure, so I was able to enjoy my pretty toes guilt-free.
Whatever holiday it is/is not aside, you & Simone seem like two fortunate gals.
How old is Simone again? It seems like Mia was just about the same age when we had our Months of Interrupted Showers. Same exact thing–she’d stand there and get so soaked that I’d either just pull her into the shower with me to finish the job, or I’d grumble angrily at her under my breath about not having time to change her clothes AGAIN. Our shower problem was self-limiting though, because at the time we were renting a townhome while having a house built. A house whose master bathroom had a large jetted tub and a separate shower with a GLASS DOOR! Ta da! No more baby getting soaked by the shower! She could stand there and watch me shower to her heart’s content (oh, and she did. up until she was around 2 and finally got more interested in playing with the toys I put in the bathroom for her than in watching me), and she could even lean on the door, smoosh her face against it, etc. But as shower doors push open from the inside, it didn’t matter–there was no way she was getting that door open. Relief.
It’s amazing how such a little thing could make my day so much better. Not saying, fruitlessly, “You’re getting soaked! The floor is flooding!” 100 times while trying to wash oneself was really a refreshing change!
I love your song! I heard it in my head perfectly as I read it. Don’t worry about the father’s day thing. That’s what happens when you have a kid- they slowly chip away at your reason, sanity and memory.
Wait, you guys can shower during the day while your child is awake? That’s possible?
It was Father’s Day in Belgium. You, Scott and Simone are European souls, is all.
thank you so much for the “update” Forgetting two years in a row might have made me look a tad uncaring.
Time to get her the book, “The Daddy Mountain”
Oh, the shared showers. At that age Will loved to watch his dad shower, and yes, everything was continually soaking wet. However, he was not content to just watch me from outside of the tub, he would scream and cry and insist on coming in with me. I hated that (seriously, showering was like the only time I had to myself for like 2 years)so I moved my shower to before bed, after the kid was asleep. Now at 2 and a half, he stands in my laundry basket and pretends he’s taking a shower, soaping himself up and everything.
Do not feel weird. We have cats that wail if we try to use the bathroom with the door shut, and they head butt the door til it opens.
You see, the Shower Monster is vicious, and they have to check on us. I can only guess it is a result of the baths we have given them. At least they blame the shower and not us.
Am I the only one that wants to hear (read?) the lyrics to “One Eyed Whore”? That just sounds immensely entertaining.
Hilarious post! Love the song–I was singing it to my own melody immediately.
And I thought Sunday was Father’s Day, too. Terribly confused, we all are!
H’okay! I can stop the ‘OMG, I have just wounded my father beyond belief’ panic!
Please treat us to ‘One Eyed Whore’ – I beg of you!
I thought Father’s Day was yesterday too! Oh well, we can celebrate two weeks in a row. Dads deserve it!
i have a little ditty for this all made up in my head & may post it on my bloggity blog tomorrow.
with full credit to you, of course. it’s a good one.
posted just now. check it out if you like
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