First things first. Today is my daughter’s tenth birthday. Wow. I can’t believe it. My Chloe is ten (officially at 7:07 pm) and I am just blown away. Where has the past decade gone?
So, in honor of my daughter’s birthday I am going to repost some of the blogs I’ve written over the last couple of years that involve Chloe and some of the things she has said and/or done. I hope you enjoy these little tales of mostly humor.
Before I do the reposts I would like to talk about this past weekend and Chloe’s birthday party. Chloe likes to skate and for the second time in three years she wanted her party to be at the skating rink. Hey, no problem. The kids get worn out and it’s not that expensive. It’s a win/win deal.
There was the peace cake sign, made by my wife. There were also several of her friends–all girls with the exception of Logan (known affectionately as, The Boy) and Chip (the boy who Chloe has been in love with since she was five or six years old). There were family members there as well, but let’s be honest, my kids don’t care about which family members show up as long as their friends are there and presents are aplenty.
Like any party, there were moments… you know, moments…
Logan bowled for bodies and wiped out Catherine, Chloe and Hailey (the cousin, who is parented by the couple I refer to as the Douches of Columbia). It was a perfect strike. You have to understand that the boy has learned how to skate and pick up speed, but he still has yet to learn how to stop. He is my unintentional Kick Buttowski–or is it intentional?? Hmm…
I’ve often said if you are going to show off, make certain what you are doing. Or at least, make sure not everyone is watching you.
During skate nights they have races for different age groups. The age group for 11 to 13 year olds was the next to last race. Only two people participated–a guy and a girl. Now, you may think this would be a boring race, and you would be right. Except, in the middle of it something happened.
Most of you know I don’t like show-offs and I don’t like to bring attention to myself, so when the girl (color and ethnicity left out on purpose so no one can get a clear image in their heads and claim racism) wearing the tiara and tight pants and brightly colored shirt strutted out onto the floor like she was the Queen of England, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world could this chick win a speed race against a guy. Well, she didn’t.
The guy gave the girl a sizable cushion at the start so when the man on the P.A. system said ‘Go,’ the girl could have taken off and been halfway around the track before the guy even started. But, no. She had to stand there, posing and looking at everyone like they were slightly nuts, as if she were supposed to be gawked at and ogled by her masses of adoring fans. The guy tried to be a gentleman, so when he passed her, he stopped and motioned for her to race, even putting his arms out before him in a ‘ladies first’ gesture.
You would think she would begin racing, right? Wrong. It took the group of folks she came with yelling for her to go to get her to take off. Even then, she went slow, showing off her elegance and grace. She then did this spin type of motion and… her skate shot out from under her. It was a Batman kind of moment with a solid WHAM as she struck the floor. Her face took the brunt of the blow. The tiara skittered across the floor. This was clearly a skating FAIL.
This is NOT funny in the least. This could have been tragic. She could have been hurt. Her group ran to her, as did her opponent. There was concern on everyone’s faces. But, what did the girl do? She refused the help offered to her, both by the people in her group and then the guy who she was supposed to race against. She eventually skated off the floor in defiance, the tiara back on her head and her friends shaking their heads. There were chuckles.
Some will not like what I am about to say, but: It’s nice to see arrogance rewarded properly.
***
Now, onto a tale of Chloe, originally posted in February of 2008, when Chloe was six:
True story, and maybe I’m telling on myself here. Anyway, read on. Most of you may find this humorous.
Today I went to the store with my daughter, Chloe. We were going for milk, a little bit of candy and a Hotwheels movie for my son. Logan—my aforementioned son—was not feeling very well and he wanted me to sit in his room with him while he lay down.
“You take care of me, Daddy,” he kept saying.
He looked so pitiful holding his little tummy. A few minutes later he got up and went and sat with his mommy. My daughter and I left for Walgreen’s, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite places to spend money.
We find the milk and the candy with no problems. The movie was a different story. We looked everywhere and came up empty. We went through every movie we could find and it just wasn’t there.
That brings me to the gist of my story. Chloe and I walked up to the cash register. But, wait, I had no cash on me. My wife had the checkbook.
~GULP~
I fished out my wallet. I plucked out the debit card and stared at it for a moment. This is a foreign object for me, by the way. Up to that moment, I had only used it once in the four years I have had it. I flipped it over in my fingers as the pretty young cashier rang up the milk, gummy life savors and the ring pop. She told me the total and I looked at her dumbfounded.
She pointed to the card scanner with the keypad and pen attached to it.
“Do I scan this side?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My daughter rolled her eyes. Mind you, she’s six.
I swiped my card and watched the green screen as it said, PROCESSING.
A moment later the cashier frowned and leaned over her counter to look at the screen. She handed me the little pen and I glanced up at her, a confused look upon my face.
“Oh,” I said as it dawned on me. “My PIN number. I’ve got to put my PIN number in.”
She giggled and my daughter shook her head.
I punched in the four numbers. Again, I drew a blank. That is when my daughter finally chimed in.
“Do you want cash back, Daddy? No.”
I read the screen and pressed NO.
“Is the amount right, Daddy? Yes.”
I read the screen again and pressed YES.
“Let’s go, Daddy.”
I picked up the bag with the milk in it and looked up at the cashier. She was trying not to laugh.
“It’s okay,” I said. “She does this to me all the time.”
My daughter just shook her head.
“Such a woman,” I said.
When I got home, I told my wife what happened and she did what you are probably doing right now: She laughed.
I like dealing in cash. I am that guy you see on the commercials who forks over the cash right in the middle of some smoothly running machine-like atmosphere where all is harmonious until he gets to the register to pay. Then everything crashes and he gets thousands of annoyed stares.
I think those days are officially over for me. Especially if my daughter can do a debit card transaction at six and I look stupid trying to figure it out. I think it is time for me to catch up with the times. I hate the Debit Card Era.
Leave it to a woman—albeit a little one—to make a grown, somewhat not stupid guy feel stupid.
Thank you, Chloe.
Type AJ Negative 