Is Wednesday too late to post a write-up about my weekend? I would have done it earlier, but all that writing about Jeff Stryker just wore me out. That man is exhausting! Also, my dog ate it.
Went for a good, but boring run on Saturday morning. Our running club met up at Lake Merced and we all ran as many laps as we could stand. Mentally, it's a wearying place to run. The course is boring and the laps around the lake end with a slight uphill. So, you run one of these 4.5 mile laps, and you're tired at the end, and you say to yourself "1". Then, you do it all over again and say "2". I ran 5 soul-sucking laps there once, but this last weekend I only had to run a merely mind-numbing 3.
Afterwards the kidlet spent the afternoon with her aunt. This allowed the wife and I to have some precious alone time. My wife was her usual insatiable self and demanded that we spend some time cuddled around the Scrabble board. I performed my husbandly duties admirably, suffering a mild loss.
Dragged the kid to the mall on Sunday, to buy her some new jammies and socks and such. We searched for a while for some not-too-warm pajamas and eventually found them at an obnoxious store called Limited Too, which appears to be training American girls for a future career in being hotel heiresses/internet sex stars. The jammies were cute though. My daughter, WHO IS FIVE YEARS OLD, wandered over to the large display of bras and stared at them longingly. I knew the next words out of her mouth were going to be troubling. She did not disappoint.
"Daddy? Are these real bras?" she asked.
I wasn't sure what the right answer was. Which answer would be mostly likely to end this conversation? "Yes. I mean no. Crap. Yes, those are real bras," I stammered.
"Daddy? May I please have a bra?" she asked politely.
"WHAT?! NO! WHAT? A BRA? Geez, bras are for women with breasts. You can have a bra when you have breasts."
She contemplated this for a moment. "Daddy? A couple of my friends at preschool used to wear pretend bras. Can I have one of these as a pretend bra?"
"No! These are real bras and you can have one when you have real breasts. Let's go find a toy store."
When we got home I told this story to my wife. Amazingly, she complimented my handling of the situation and admitted that she probably would have just bought the girl a bra.
Monday was Martin Luther King Day and I had the day off with my daughter. At one point we passed by our neighbors who were outside with their toddler. The boy was chatting up a storm and the father turned to me and said, "He talks nonstop!". "Oh, I have one of those too," I replied. I turned and looked my daughter. She smiled warmly, nodded, and pointed wordlessly to herself.
I grin everytime I think of that. I'm grinning now.