Best Father's Day Evar
Simply the best. That's what today was for me. I have the best kid, and she has the best quasi-stepmom. That's how the cookie slices, folks.
They let me sleep in until 8:30am, when I opened my eyes to a big, hand-taped and -colored poster that read HAPPY FATHER'S DAY and TWO Father's Day cards next to me in the bed. And Good Morning Father's Day hugs and kisses all around. And then M made crepes. K was amazed that I ate 6 to her 1, but that's the way dads roll.
We hung out in the morning, then rode bikes 4 blocks to the mailbox to mail her stepdad a Father's Day card. K's got the bike-riding thing DOWN. She came...
...and she kept on going...
Then we hung out with the neighbors. I weeded their garden, K played with her fiancé Riley, M ate a mango popsicle. They gave us monster radishes because they only like the greens. We called every conceivable Dad in the family. Also, I am pleased to announce that K and Riley's engagement is still going strong, witness this exchange from yesterday:
Riley: Hey, we're still going to get married when we grow up, right?
K: Yeah.
Riley: We're going to dance around and dress up like clowns and stuff!
(...pretty much, right?)
And then, this evening, there was... ROLLER DERBY.
M and I have become huge fans of the Charm City Roller Girls. It's the only sport either of us has really sunk our teeth into as fans: I get into the World Cup every time it rolls around, but I'll be darned if I know Thing One about the teams before or after. Now, yes, roller derby IS a real and very well-regulated sport, with points, penalties (major and minor), special moves, strategy, personalities, and a whole lot of verve. But the league's also a community of Real Women with Real Jobs and Real Lives, who do it because they love the game and they love their comrades. The game's acquired a lot of hipster/countercultural appeal, what with the tattoos and badass names ("Bitchie Sambora" and "Craftabitch" gave M and me all sorts of parental angst; it was a non-issue, as it turned out), but it checks any pretension at the door. It's got the right combination of seriousness - in terms of being a sport - and non-seriousness - in terms of affirming the inherent silliness of being a sport. In short, it's a lot of fun, and the audience really gets to care about the teams.
We'd been looking forward to taking K, but we weren't sure how she'd react. Would it be too much? Too loud? Too fast? Too rough? We needn't have worried. After all, K's at a stage where she claims to hate boys, so a sport that's all (badass, tough) women and minimal men (i.e. referreees) was bound to hold her interest. I talked her through the first few jams, explaining how jammers became lead jammer, how they scored points, how they called off a jam, etc., and pointing out exciting moments. K picked up on my enthusiasm and was transfixed. Remember how she stood in front of the stage at Cheverly Day and just gaped when M's band played? It was the same thing: she just sat there, didn't clap or yell, just sat and stared and took it all in.
K: She has to go in the middle (i.e. the penalty pool) because she pushed a girl with both hands!
(Later,
Justice Feelgood Marshall commented: "Good, we could always use more refs...")
The Night Terrors was our team. (At last year's EPIC championship bout, they came up from behind to win by a hair in the last 5 seconds.) We were Number One Fans. K and I got matching Night Terrors t-shirts and changed into them during a break.
This exchange happened after every jam:
K: Look! (points to the scoreboard) X points! (i.e. The Terrors were behind by X points)
Me: Do you think they can make it back?
K: (wide-eyed and nodding vigorously) UH-HUH!!!
K got to meet rockstar blocker
Frenzy Lohan:
M went off to say hi to Lady Quebeaum at one point, because she's going to be our neighbor in Mt. Rainier...
K: I wanna go meet Kaboom!
Number One Best exchange of the night:
K: Do they ever not have bruises?
M: No, I don't think so. I guess they always have some kind of bruises...
K: But do they care? NO!!!
Guess who wants to learn to roller-skate now?
They let me sleep in until 8:30am, when I opened my eyes to a big, hand-taped and -colored poster that read HAPPY FATHER'S DAY and TWO Father's Day cards next to me in the bed. And Good Morning Father's Day hugs and kisses all around. And then M made crepes. K was amazed that I ate 6 to her 1, but that's the way dads roll.
We hung out in the morning, then rode bikes 4 blocks to the mailbox to mail her stepdad a Father's Day card. K's got the bike-riding thing DOWN. She came...
...and she kept on going...
Then we hung out with the neighbors. I weeded their garden, K played with her fiancé Riley, M ate a mango popsicle. They gave us monster radishes because they only like the greens. We called every conceivable Dad in the family. Also, I am pleased to announce that K and Riley's engagement is still going strong, witness this exchange from yesterday:
Riley: Hey, we're still going to get married when we grow up, right?
K: Yeah.
Riley: We're going to dance around and dress up like clowns and stuff!
(...pretty much, right?)
And then, this evening, there was... ROLLER DERBY.
M and I have become huge fans of the Charm City Roller Girls. It's the only sport either of us has really sunk our teeth into as fans: I get into the World Cup every time it rolls around, but I'll be darned if I know Thing One about the teams before or after. Now, yes, roller derby IS a real and very well-regulated sport, with points, penalties (major and minor), special moves, strategy, personalities, and a whole lot of verve. But the league's also a community of Real Women with Real Jobs and Real Lives, who do it because they love the game and they love their comrades. The game's acquired a lot of hipster/countercultural appeal, what with the tattoos and badass names ("Bitchie Sambora" and "Craftabitch" gave M and me all sorts of parental angst; it was a non-issue, as it turned out), but it checks any pretension at the door. It's got the right combination of seriousness - in terms of being a sport - and non-seriousness - in terms of affirming the inherent silliness of being a sport. In short, it's a lot of fun, and the audience really gets to care about the teams.
We'd been looking forward to taking K, but we weren't sure how she'd react. Would it be too much? Too loud? Too fast? Too rough? We needn't have worried. After all, K's at a stage where she claims to hate boys, so a sport that's all (badass, tough) women and minimal men (i.e. referreees) was bound to hold her interest. I talked her through the first few jams, explaining how jammers became lead jammer, how they scored points, how they called off a jam, etc., and pointing out exciting moments. K picked up on my enthusiasm and was transfixed. Remember how she stood in front of the stage at Cheverly Day and just gaped when M's band played? It was the same thing: she just sat there, didn't clap or yell, just sat and stared and took it all in.
K: She has to go in the middle (i.e. the penalty pool) because she pushed a girl with both hands!
(Later,
Justice Feelgood Marshall commented: "Good, we could always use more refs...")
The Night Terrors was our team. (At last year's EPIC championship bout, they came up from behind to win by a hair in the last 5 seconds.) We were Number One Fans. K and I got matching Night Terrors t-shirts and changed into them during a break.
This exchange happened after every jam:
K: Look! (points to the scoreboard) X points! (i.e. The Terrors were behind by X points)
Me: Do you think they can make it back?
K: (wide-eyed and nodding vigorously) UH-HUH!!!
K got to meet rockstar blocker
Frenzy Lohan:
M went off to say hi to Lady Quebeaum at one point, because she's going to be our neighbor in Mt. Rainier...
K: I wanna go meet Kaboom!
Number One Best exchange of the night:
K: Do they ever not have bruises?
M: No, I don't think so. I guess they always have some kind of bruises...
K: But do they care? NO!!!
Guess who wants to learn to roller-skate now?