As a stay at home Dad your opportunities for conversation are limited. So far I have resisted the urge to talk to the dog, at least for any length of time, and most conversations with Gabe end up with a competition of who can babble incoherently the loudest (I’m up 74 to 62) or me only using the syllable "DA". This of course is because as his primary caregiver I'm offended and slightly hurt that he is able to produce the syllable "MA" and "AL", though his use is suspect.His latest trick is he likes to flap his gums and not say anything. Sure, like father like son you say, but I mean he doesn’t make a sound. This of course is partially my fault as I like to speak to him like I’m a poorly dubbed martial arts film. You know, where the ninja speaks for two minutes but only manages to say three words in English. This is partially his fault because he laughs real hard when I do it.
On Tuesday Gabe and I drove to Wichita for a Career Fair. I figured it was time for the G-Man to learn the value of a dollar and start earning his keep around here. As I was getting gas on the way home something began going off in my suit pants. I stuck my head through the window and told Gabe.
"I think someone's put a duck in my trousers."
"Well, let it go before you get into the car, daddy. It would be the humane thing to do."
"I don't think I'll be able to just let it go here. I think I'm going to have to sit down and lure it out."
"Ah. With water, perhaps? Ducks like water."
"Yes. I think if I sit down near water I ought to be able to coax it down."
The duck quacks.
"Would a small body of water do? In a ceramic receptacle?"
"Yes, but I can’t very well leave you here while I locate one.”
“Sure you can. Just leave it running and put me in the driver’s seat, no one will notice.”
“Fat chance.”
We hurry home.
2 comments:
ewwww...you're gross
I can see it now..Gabe is 3 and you come into the bathroom (ie the pond). Gabe is "expressing" himself and a look of horror comes across your face, and you thought finger painting was bad. Gabe then turns to you and says, "Quack, Dada ducks wanted to play. Quack". At the time you will ask yourself why would he do that. Upon cleaning up the mess you just created along with his we will read a disseration on the consistency of Gabes' food the second time around. Then I'll point to this entry and say you only have yourself to blame. Ha Ha. As sad as that is I'm sure Pete and I will have one to compaire too.
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