Who's Your Daddy?
There is a preschool immediately adjacent to my office, and throughout the day I am serenaded by kids--mostly happy ones, but the occasional screamer, too. Even though I generally hate to be around people of any kind, I make an exception for young children. I don’t know why that is, perhaps because I feel like such an intellectual giant in the presence of a 3-year-old. Or maybe they have the inherent cheerfulness that I lack.
I often chat with the kids and their parents, and have come to know one mother and her daughter. They are both from Yugoslavia. Though the woman is still married to the girl’s father and seems to have a decent relationship, the father remains in Yugoslavia. It’s an odd family situation and, frankly, none of my business.
The girl has been in the United States for most of her 3 years, and though she could identify her father in a photo, didn’t really seem to know him. She’s a tiny little thing, and absolutely adorable, though a little shy.
That’s why, yesterday, I was startled (and a little terrified) that when she saw me, she ran up to me and said in a loud, happy voice, “Daddy!” Her mother said to me, “She looks like you.”
Now, this is not a complication I need. I can tell you for a fact that I am not this girl’s daddy. But if my wife (who leans toward jealousy and paranoia in these matters) heard that exchange, I’d have my eyes scratched out in nothing flat. Then, she would proceed to kill me in an excruciatingly painful way every day for the rest of my life. Plus, there might be other rumormongers wandering around. Not helpful.
I think I’ll have to make myself a little scarce around the preschoolers for a while.
I often chat with the kids and their parents, and have come to know one mother and her daughter. They are both from Yugoslavia. Though the woman is still married to the girl’s father and seems to have a decent relationship, the father remains in Yugoslavia. It’s an odd family situation and, frankly, none of my business.
The girl has been in the United States for most of her 3 years, and though she could identify her father in a photo, didn’t really seem to know him. She’s a tiny little thing, and absolutely adorable, though a little shy.
That’s why, yesterday, I was startled (and a little terrified) that when she saw me, she ran up to me and said in a loud, happy voice, “Daddy!” Her mother said to me, “She looks like you.”
Now, this is not a complication I need. I can tell you for a fact that I am not this girl’s daddy. But if my wife (who leans toward jealousy and paranoia in these matters) heard that exchange, I’d have my eyes scratched out in nothing flat. Then, she would proceed to kill me in an excruciatingly painful way every day for the rest of my life. Plus, there might be other rumormongers wandering around. Not helpful.
I think I’ll have to make myself a little scarce around the preschoolers for a while.
Labels: terror, work, yugoslavia
posted by Lefty at 12:22 PM
6 Comments:
Hmm, perhaps you will need some instructions in your will for getting and retaining a DNA sample - for the (non) paternity test brought into evidence at the lovely (but jealous) Mrs. Lefty's murder trial.
It is cute that the little girl likes you so much.
Yeah you'll have to make yourself scarce around that particular perschooler.
Because it would definitely suck if your eyes were scratched out, you would have to say bye-bye to actually typing anything readable.
wow that seems like it was super awkward!
g-dog--actually, I think I'll just post the code to my DNA here on my blog (over a series of entries, of course).
x-box--actually, I'm a pretty good typist; I might be able to pull it off with no eyes.
bre--apparently, though, it was only awkward for ME; mom and child didn't seem too unsettled.
Uh oh. Looks like operation "Find New Daddy" worked. Run away from the cuteness! It's a trap.
That's exactly the way it felt, as if I had walked smack into the middle of operation "Find New Daddy."
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