I use this blog to vent about my eldest creature quite often. Most Fridays are full of me lamenting the various misadventure of the little ?lady? causing trouble and creating a ruckus whenever possible.
Perhaps it is time to switch gears a bit.
Today, I?d like to tell you a bit about the most recent spiritual-tumor in my life. This once sweet creature is developing a chaotic nature that may, in fact, supersede the terrible tendencies and migraine-inducing behavior of the primary beast. I am referring, of course, to my second spawn, Oriana.
I have already confessed my concern over the older one refusing to keep her clothes on. It is a constant war to keep her clothed, one that sees some battles go my way and others go hers. The youngest one has developed two of her own precarious behaviors that, on their own, are completely non-threatening. Together, however, they are the itch of fear that no daughter?s father can scratch.
Oriana loves to dance. She always has. Before she could walk she would gather herself on all fours, lift her butt into the air and shake it to whatever beat was available. This has evolved over time into various gyrations, wiggles and head-shakes determined by all flavors of rhythm, from rock to hip hop. It is cute. I enjoy it. She enjoys it. We enjoy it together.
Lately, the child has developed an acuity for climbing. For her first birthday, her great-grandparents bought Oriana and her sister an outside play-table. Within twenty minutes, this little victory occurred:
Flag Planted.
Like the dancing, Oriana?s mother and I found this new behavior oddly charming. Sure, we remain a bit concerned that one day her little sausage-toes will lose their grip and she will crack her head, so we try to limit our encouragement and cries of ?good job, Oriana?, but all in all, we are ecstatic that she does more than sit on the ground and poop.
Then Tuesday happened.
I was sitting on the couch, watching Caillou on Sprout (I loathe that show), and in came the little one. She had removed most of her clothing, donning only a diaper which bore the twisted edges of a victorious battle for nudity. Behind her the child was dragging my wife?s iPad ? it?s a first generation iPad, we don?t hide it from the kids.
The twerp put the iPad on the table in front of me and pushed play on the Gangnam Style music video via YouTube. Again, this in and of itself is not terribly surprising, the children watch many a YouTube video on the iPad when we allow them to. Their ability to navigate various apps is not a shock.
Then Oriana, my little one year-old angel, climbed on the coffee table, pointed at me and began to shake her hips in a manner that can only be described as Shakira-ish.
Natala laughed, clapped and joined her, stripping off her shirt as she did.
I, the father of these two stripper-toddlers, ?strodders? if you will, watched in horror as my little girls induced a great many flashbacks to some of the shadier days of my youth ? days involving girls removing their clothing and dancing on tables while smiling at me? Dirty days?
Though I can?t be sure because I have nothing to compare it to, I think I had a mild heart attack. When my senses returned, I pulled them off the table, stopped the music and made them lunch. Anything to distract them.
While they ate I went outside, had a cigarette and prayed. I prayed hard. I prayed harder than I have ever prayed in my life.
The incident has yet to recur but the damage is done.
Karma, you are a tricky bitch.
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Source: http://jamesninness.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/fatherhood-friday-table-dancer/
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