I know I promised a grand poo story, but today is Father’s Day. All children are angels on Father’s Day. Besides, I have a big business trip next week, so I have to store up my poop stories for when I really need material.
Anyhoo, I got again the greatest Father’s Day gift of all: sleep. Around 9:30, I heard shuffling and Elijah chatter right outside our bedroom door. Eli was dodging and weaving Diana in an attempt to cross the goal line. Luckily for Eli, Diana’s linebacker skills were suffering from being pregnant. He executed a Walter Peyton style maneuver and scored 6. He began a touchdown dance on our bed.
Diana attempted to remove him, but he pulled out his secret weapon, cuteness.
“Stay with dada. Please?”
I pulled back the sheet and said, “Climb aboard. But we’re sleeping.”
He snuggled in beside me and I went back to my dream where I was nude and the lesbian girl at work was laughing at me. Suddenly, I noticed two-year-old toes being inserted into my nose. I woke up to Eli singing, “Super Y! Super Y!” while shoving his feet in my face. There was no going back to the laughing lesbian. I was up.
Diana fixed me a great breakfast and we listened to funk on the stereo. For his Father’s Day gift, Eli performed an interpretive dance to the music. Inspired by Monty Python’s “Ministry of Silly Walks.”
I laughed and clapped. Suddenly, Eli got inspired to remove his clothes. As usual. Then, his dancing became…uncomfortable. Somewhere, Eli learned the timeless dance of hip thrusting. Probably from Grover. He really got into it and started thrusting wildly. No doubt encouraged by Diana and my hysterical laughter.
After I’d had enough, I headed to the bathroom, where I could contemplate the joy that is my life. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m the luckiest dad in the world.
p.s. Happy Father’s Day, dad.
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