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!"

The Grocery Store Hates Me

As a man, I am genetically predisposed to always fail when I am sent to the grocery store. I'm a pretty smart guy until I stroll through the automatic sliding doors at the local supermarket. It's almost as if the "woosh" sound I hear is not actually from the doors opening, but rather all capability for rationale and reasoning being wiped clean from my brain.

It's not that I don't want to do well. Really, I do...But for some reason that God will have to explain to me when I meet Him, I always forget something. Or I buy the wrong type of something. Or I get it wrong all together.

"What's this?"

"Lettuce. A head of lettuce...You wanted lettuce, right?"

"This is cabbage..."

"Oh..."

"It even says 'cabbage' on the plastic wrapper...How am I supposed to make salad?"

"Um...Cole slaw?"

Which would have been okay, if I had bought mayonnaise instead of Miracle Whip...

My trip usually goes something like this: She gives me a list and sometimes coupons. (By the way, men HATE coupons. We know it saves money, but it hurts our pride sometimes. But using coupons is public proof that we actually convinced someone to marry us. Kind of like buying feminine hygiene products. So, we let it slide). With list in hand, I enter the store. "Woosh" My mind is erased and I am reduced to blubbering pile of husband idiocy. I look down, and now all I have is a piece of paper with gibberish written on it.

So, the next hour is spent looking for things that I think she said she liked. But because of the constant funneling of Rod Stewart and Wilson Phillips through the store's PA system, I become even dumber. Now, I am just grabbing things at random.

Microwaveable burritos
Grape soda
Cat litter (we don't even have a cat)

And as I'm checking out in line, I start my defense in my head.

"I think some old lady swapped baskets with me by mistake. That's why there is so much Preparation H and denture adhesive." (in reality, I just got lost in the pharmacy aisles)

Or maybe I should just take it all back. But at this point, the checker, the bagger, and the family behind me are all staring at me like I just escaped from a mental hospital based off my purchases.

"Why would he need latex gloves, a tub of lard and a garden hose?"

No, I can't turn back now...So, I own it...And I proudly present my discount shopper card to the checker and say, "I do believe I just saved myself $.36 on that pack of pudding!"

When I get back to my car, I realize that I have made a huge error. And I know I will have to admit to my wife that she is right: I cannot go shopping by myself.

But, isn't that the key to a successful marriage? Being able to admit your weaknesses? That's one the reasons I love my wife so much. We truly do offset each other's short comings...She makes me better every day...