Well, it is official. I am a terrible father. I honestly did not set out to be a bad dad but I think it is just how I am wired.
I have always had a sneaky suspicion that I was not the greatest paterfamilias but this weekend my suspicion was confirmed. I was having lunch at a local restaurant with my wife and 12-year-old, soon-to-be 13-year-old-daughter, Cadyn. My wife informed me that Cadyn did not want to dye Easter eggs this year.
My response was, "Great! It is about time."
This was not the proper response. I knew it immediately not because I felt bad about what I said. I knew I was wrong because my wife punched me in the arm. My wife said I should be upset by this news and not feel joy. She said this news meant we no longer had a baby in the house.
However, I must admit I was very happy to hear the news. I hate dying Easter eggs. It seems tedious to me and I have no talent when it comes to designing oddly colorful chicken ovums. The little wire spoon never holds the egg right and oftentimes my egg slips out of the contraption and cracks. So my eggs all kind of look like Humpty Dumpty.
Another childhood pastime that I hate is playing with Legos. I remember once when my daughter and I were attempting to put together the Lego version of the starship Enterprise from the TV series "Star Trek." I love "Star Trek" -- it is my favorite television show of all time. But putting that Lego set together felt like the equivalent of having my eyebrows plucked out by an angry goose. The pieces were so small and the directions seemed to be written for someone far more intelligent than I am. Let's just say the whole experience ended in tears. My tears.
Finally, we come to the epitome of bad dad behavior, playing with Barbie dolls. I cannot stand playing with Barbie dolls. Every time I would play dolls with Cadyn I would become bored and Ken would have to take the pink Corvette to the store. On the way to the store Ken would be speeding and ultimately have a wreck and have to have the Corvette towed to the repair shop. He and Barbie would end up in a big argument over Ken's reckless behavior. Barbie would have no other choice but to make Ken sleep on the couch of the "Dreamhouse."
As you can see, I will never be named father of the year. However, I do love my girls and would do anything in the world for them. I am just glad that list no longer includes dying eggs, Legos or Barbie.