The Little Dummy That Could

DISCLAIMER: This is meant to be a syrupy sweet post about my little girl. A post in which I, as a parent, learn something valuable. In no way is it meant to offend blondes. Or dummies. Or dumb blondes, for that matter.

I’ll be the first to admit, that there’s been a time or twelve where I’ve referred to my precious baby girl as a dummy. Or as having a “blonde moment.” Heck, I’ve even combined the two and called her a dumb blonde. (In my defense, I call her Princess, and Sweetie, and shit like that, too.)

Now, before you go getting all crazy and telling me I’m a horrible parent, these things are never said directly to her…it’s usually just me and my wife talking. And then laughing hysterically.

And anyway, she really is kind of a dummy.

But she’s also six.

Her world right now consists of happy things. Princes and Princesses. Cookies and cupcakes. Staying up late on weekends to hang with daddy and watch old heavy metal music videos. She loves her first year in school, and she’s working really hard at it, but she can tend to be a little clueless sometimes. Instead of writing her sight words, she figures that the blank paper is meant for drawing pictures of puppies and ice cream. Yes, she’s also been known to sometimes put her pants on inside out…or backwards for that matter, but it’s usually just because she’s in a rush to get outside and play. I may laugh at her for it, but I’d much rather see her running around outside with her inside out pockets flapping around like wings, than dressed right and sitting on her ass in front of a video game. And up until recently, she thought eleventeen was the number that came between ten and twenty-twofour, But hey, she’s learning. Maybe a bit slowly, but she’s getting there.

The other day, my wife and I found out that our little girl was getting an award at school. We both kinda sorta laughed and said “perfect attendance.”I mean, for as sweet as this kid is, we both knew from helping her with her homework, that she wasn’t gonna get anything for her academic skills, if you know what I mean. And not that there’s anything wrong with that. She’ll eventually figure it out. Shit, I was a dummy and I did.

So this morning, I go to the school for her little award ceremony thingy. It was actually pretty packed, so I’m thinking it’s gonna be one of those deals where every single kid gets some kind of award or something, so no one feels bad…you know the kind…Little Ray Ray gets an award for being the Smartest. Betsy Sue gets one for being Most Cheerful. Emma gets Perfect Attendance. Barry gets Best At Not Peeing In His Desk For Three Days Straight. And so on…

Anyway, believe it or not, only a few kids get awards, and my girl is one of them. When it’s her turn to get called up for her award, it immediately becomes crystal clear that she inherited my fear of getting up in front of people, as evidenced by her ass somehow becoming glued to her seat. Witnessing this, I realize her award isn’t for any type of public speaking thing either. (That’s me, Captain Fucking Perceptive.)

The teacher finally gets her up to the stage, both of them red faced. My daughter from embarrassment, the teacher, presumably from overexertion at having to drag my daughter up there, heels dug in the whole way. Then it happens…

My little dumb blonde gets her award:

“Always Makes Good Choices”

At first, I’m all like, what the fuck is that!!?? But then it hits me. She really does almost always make good choices. She’s the one that always does her chores without having to be asked. She’s the one that normally thinks her actions through before she does something. She’s the one that’s always ready to help and willing to share. Thinking back, I’m always telling her she makes good choices.

Immediately overcome with fatherly pride, I jump up and let out a “HELL YEAH!!,” which is probably not the most appropriate thing to blurt out at a grade school awards ceremony. Oh, well…at least it wasn’t “FUCK YEAH!!” And anyway, I’ve never claimed to win any good choices awards myself.

As soon as I left the school, I rushed to buy her the best frame I could find for her award, and hung it right at the top of my own little “professional achievements and cool guy stuff” wall. She so totally deserved that award, and I couldn’t be more proud. Sure, she might think “like” is spelled with a 3. Or can’t count past seventy-green, but I’d much rather have her making good choices. One of which is studying a wee bit harder, of course.

I promised her that I’m gonna make sure that her award is prominently displayed in our house until she moves out.

And then I’m gonna hang it in her house.

A constant reminder about how important making good choices is, and how proud she makes me because she’s such a damn good kid.

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Two Dummies

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daddyanarchy

I write stuff. And I have Poodles. Big Poodles. The Poodles don't write stuff.

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6 Comments on The Little Dummy That Could

  1. Awww, what a sweet post. I wish I could say I won an award for always making good choices but…accidentally knocked up with my third child 😛 Oh well, guess that ship has sailed.

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