Tuesday, June 15, 2010

One of my co-workers, whom we'll call Richard, invited us all to a barbecue this weekend, so I crammed the family into the car and we drove out of the city for an evening of eating and socializing.

Richard has an amazing house filled with fascinating art, tons of rooms, and lots of games.  I'm not sure what my favorite part was, but I think it's safe to say that Daisy's favorite part was Richard's two daughters, who were a couple years younger than Daisy.  The kids ran around, played with hula hoops, put on a show, and committed general goof-off-ery.

At one point the girls came over to two of my co-workers and me.

"We have some charades for you guys," Daisy announced, "So try to guess what we're saying."

The girls then wildly launched into a set of completely indecipherable gestures.  I grasped they were saying something about me, but in lieu of actually understanding what they were saying, I chose to make guesses as improbable as their gestures.  When I got to "I stink?" as a guess, Daisy paused, thought for a moment, and declared it correct.

Similarly, my coworker to my left, Brian, got the nod of approval when he guessed "I pee?", and our host, Richard, was informed that his "I'm ugly?" guess was a winner.

We loudly proclaimed our dissatisfaction with these characterizations of ourselves which delighted the three girls as much as the charades exercise itself.  They skipped off just before Richard's wife came by to join us.  When she heard the sentiments that the girls had been "charading", she called over her two daughters to explain that it wasn't ok to tell people that they stink, pee, and are ugly.

I sat there guiltily.  My girl was the oldest of the three and was clearly the ring leader here.

"Uh, this is probably my fault.  I'm sure Daisy was the instigator here," I explained to her.

"Oh, no, my girls are plenty capable of this kind of thing," she reassured me.

I let the issue drop at this point, but let me explain to you all, that I'm pretty damn sure that this type of behavior comes from Daisy.  I say so, because I ENCOURAGE exactly this type of behavior.  In fact, I model it.  On any given day you might find me telling Daisy that she's stinky, or that she peed in her pants, or that she is generally just a poopyhead.   Unsurprisingly, if you take a group of people, including some small children, I'm likely to be the one behaving most immaturely.

Daisy is such a goody-two-shoes that I relish it when she tells me that I stink.  Sometimes you gotta take the "fight authority" spirit where you can get it.

So, last night, when we were looking at a website that had some quotes from Ferris Bueller's Day Off (which we recently showed to Daisy, and she noted how much swearing there was), she read this one from Cameron:
Call me 'sir', goddamn it! (to Edward Rooney over the phone, impersonating Sloane Peterson's father)
Daisy then repeated this quote about a dozen times, visibly enjoying the feel of the words on her tongue.  I listened to this and then despite myself, said, "You know that although it's ok to say that stuff around me, you can't say those words to other people, right?"

Daisy stared at me.  "You know that I wouldn't do that, right.  You know that you don't have to tell me that, right?"

I agreed with her, but I still know she was behind StinkGate.


Mike Duffy said...

When our eldest daughter discovered the delights of Anglo-Saxon, we told her she could say "Fuck" as much as she liked by herself in the bathroom with the door closed. It mostly worked (except that one time at my Mom's 80th birthday).

Mike said...

Sounds like you need thicker bathroom doors.