As a Dad, I feel I have a responsibility to teach Elijah some things that women-folk just don’t understand. Things that will help Elijah become a man. Or at least become a Fraternity member. You know, like how to fire a shotgun (which I don’t know how to do), order a martini (which I do know how to do) or how to throw a punch (which I know how to do, but badly).
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been secretly teaching Elijah something that, if I’m discovered, will land me in hot water with Diana. I am teaching Eli the joys of tooting.
On the nights when Diana works, I’ll come home and play with him for a little while before he goes to bed. And inevitably, I’ll get him to pull my finger. I don’t know when it started. But his reaction is priceless. He’ll howl with laughter and say, “Dada toot!” To which I’ll say, “Tooting is funny, son.” He wholeheartedly agrees.
This morning I was in the shower while Diana was asleep. Eli came into the bathroom, bored. He started yanking on the towels and entering the beginning stages of mischief. So I said, “Eli, look at this.” And I blew into my arm, creating a toot. He looked at me like I had produced a block of solid gold out of thin air.
I then instructed him to blow into his own arm. I think his expression is what Cavemen had when they discovered fire for the first time.
Thankfully, he got bored with it before Diana woke up. But she’s working tonight. So the education continues.
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