The things that fathers teach their sons


You really should come over to our house for story time. You’d get a big kick out of it. I sure do.

There’s me, Mommy, who reads the story with inflection and as much fun as I can muster.

And then there’s him, Daddy, who reads the story with the goal of corrupting our little munchkin as much as possible.

Like tonight.

First came “Dr. Seuss’s ABC”, a favorite of both Devin and his parents. So much rhythm in this one. And right off the bat, at letter “A”, Daddy veers away from the script:

“Big A, little A, what begins with A? Aunt Annie’s alligator. A, a, A.”
“Can you say aaaayyy, Devin?” he asks, sounding like Fonzie.
The two-year-old complies with a big “AAAYYYYYYYY!”

Daddy turns the page, but can’t bring himself to leave the land of Arthur Fonzarelli. “Can you say, ‘Sit on it, Webber’?”
Here, Mommy’s eyebrows go up a bit.
Two-year-old: “Sit. It. Webbeh.”

Next up on the docket was “What Shall We Do with the Boo Hoo Baby?” All throughout, Daddy adds in extra commentary about the animals. Some of it insulting, especially to the duck. Then, at the end, when the baby goes to sleep amid all the z-z-z-z-z-z’s, he gives Dev a lesson on how to sound like the Three Stooges. “SNORT! Heebeebeebeebeebeebee!” And the kiddo follows his lead nearly flawlessly.

I can see where this is headed. Nowhere good, you can be sure!