"Facebook Monday" clearly doesn't have the ring that "Facebook Friday" would have, but Friday is date night. So "Facebook Monday" it is.
Here's the first of my favorite two daddy-daughter moments this week, as first seen on my Facebook Page:
Today at the park:
Addison: I want to kick.
Me: What? Kicking isn't nice. But . . . what did you want to kick?
Addison: I want to kick a duck.
Me: Why? Who do you know that kicks ducks?
Addison: Oh, lots of people. Can I kick a duck? It would be SO special to me.
Me: Well, if you can catch it, you can kick it...That experience was last Tuesday, and we were at the park again today. We always head for the ducks first. To feed them, not to kick them. So, we'd just gotten out of the parking lot and I was still holding her hand. Addison started trying to wrench her hand out of my grasp, and I asked her what the rush was.
Addison: I need to get the ducks!
Me: You mean you want to feed the ducks?
Addison: No! I want to get them, with a stick!I don't know why Addison's animosity towards ducks appears to be escalating (it surely isn't from me). I finally got her to calm down and we had a little conversation about how ducks are nice and we shouldn't hit them. Also, that ducks are sometimes rude (this, from Addison, because she says that their quacking sounds are like laughing TOO LOUD!). But we fed them a little bag of oatmeal without any further malicious intent expressed, after which Addison played nicely with other kids at the playground. No ducks harmed, for the moment. I'll keep you posted.
Also this week was a moment in which Addison did a pretty impressive job staying in character long enough to make me snap (apparently her shorn locks and the loss of her Dread Pirate Wesley likeness hasn't dampened her pirate spirit):
So, Addison's room faces mine, and during her "quiet time" she can come to her doorway and lean over her little prison gate and talk to me, even though this is the time she's supposed to be leaving me alone.
I do not respond.
Still not responding.
Refusing to look at her. If she thinks she's got my attention, she'll start asking me for things.
Addison: AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH! AAAAAAAAARGH! ARGH! AAARRR! GUH!
This has been going on for nearly five minutes. I can't take it any more. She's broken me.
Me: What is it, Addison?
Addison (while pointing at her eye-patch): I'm a pirate!
After which she happily went back to playing by herself in her room.Her pirate eye-patch has become something of a magical object around here. It's her alter-ego, her Superman costume, her Batman face-mask. Whatever else she may be doing, whether playing princess, or feeding her baby, or licking a line around the perimeter of a room, she drops everything when she spies the eye-patch and immediately goes on a pirate rampage. This involves chasing down anyone in the house and screaming "Argh!" at them until they curl up in fetal position and cry for mercy.
So, our little girl is a duck-hating pirate. Would it be funny or tragic if she never grew out of it?