Saturday, February 11, 2012

I say, "DON'T shake the sillies out!"

There are many things that I enjoy about being a dad.  For instance, when I leave the room for only five minutes and I come back to a hero's applause.  Or when I throw a couple frozen waffles into the toaster and I am received as the world's greatest chef, as if I were the illegitimate love child of Wolfgang Puck and Julia Child. And the look of amazement in my children's eyes, like I am a mutant with super-human strength, when I do something like carry a box of Christmas decorations to the basement.

But I think the thing I enjoy the most is my ability to remain childish.

For those who know me personally, they can say I was definitely the "class clown" in school.  I was always silly.  Prat falls, impressions and first-person jokes were a daily occurance for me.  I even did a stand-up routine for the middle school talent show.  It was a survival tool for me, though.  You see, about middle school, I realized that there were the kids who could breeze through school unscathed, others who would hide in permanent shadow of social awkwardness, and then there were people like me.  I was a rare breed that never had the grace or skill to play a sport.  Nor did I have the brains to look forward to the days when I would run the world.  So, I learned that if I made people laugh, they could never really figure me out.  Especially, when I made fun of myself.  The strong, athletic, popular kids thought that I was self-deprecating and that I could actually do the things I was so exaggeratedly bad at. (So, to all the kids in Mrs Swenson's fifth-grade class:  Yes, that is REALLY how I shoot a lay-up...Even to this day).  The smart kids thought that my stupidity was so over the top, that I must actually be a genius trying to blend in.  (Yes, I REALLY thought the "Labor Party" was when a bunch of women had babies at the same time).  It worked fine...until I hit the real world and I had to actually perform.

But all those years of silliness was just training for being a dad... 

Now I can perform my impression of Popeye buying diapers for Sweet Pea when my kids are in tow during a shopping trip.  Crying baby at church?  The big, funny "ape man" can get him smiling again.  When my daughter seems to be in one her moods, all I have to do to flip her 180 degrees is walk face first into the wall and fall back onto the floor, Chaplin-style. 

I see a lot of dads in public, especially new dads of toddlers, trying to remain cool.  But you can't be cool with kids.  These dads will constantly try to save face at the expense of their own children.  "I can't believe you are crawling on the floor of the mall pretending to be a Transformer!  Get up!  You're embarrassing me!" 

They're KIDS!  They don't understand "being cool."  They would rather watch Finneas and Ferb than anything with Brad Pitt squinting his eyes for two hours.  If your kid wants to be Optimus Prime on the floor at the mall, get down there and be Megatron.  Children are nothing more than small, silly people.  They only want to have fun.  They have their entire life to be serious. 

The other day, for instance, when I was taking the kids to Parent-Teacher conferences, we spent the entire car ride singing our conversation in Opera. 

"Whaaaat doooo yooou waaant tooo dooo for diiiiineeeer?

And the funny part was, we were still doing it in front of the teacher.  Of course, when I entered the classroom, the teacher had me sit in Danny's chair.  The chair is designed for a elementary school child, not a 31 year old man.  I just looked at my son and said, "My name is Bruce Banner, and I just got an 'F' on my math test," and proceeded to go through the transformation into the Hulk and stood up with the chair stuck to my rear end.

You've got to be silly.  It's the only way to make it through parenthood.  If you can't be silly with a kid, you're going to end up just looking at them, thinking, "What the heck are they doing?  They have been acting like baboons all afternoon!  I think we should have them tested."

Take advantage of being a dad.  Walk like an Egyptian around the house.  Let them pelt you with snowballs in the winter. Make silly faces in the rear-view mirror as you sing ridiculous Raffi songs and don't worry about what the person in the car next to you is thinking.  Make up your own language with them while shopping at the grocery store. 

It's important to be the silly dad now....because, in just a few short years, it will be your kid saying, "Stop it, Dad!  You're embarrassing me!"

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