Using Duct Tape, I Become a Highly Skilled Auto Body Mechanic

My birthday began in an unusual manner when I went grocery shopping early yesterday morning. After loading the groceries into the car, I pushed the cart (aka 'shopping trolley') to the cart return. On the way, I accidentally tapped the cart against the car's rear bumper. And the bumper fell off! Picking it off the ground, I shoved the bumper back in place, hoping it would make the three-mile trek home okay. When I arrived home, I checked on the bumper. It had fallen off again, with the driver's-side end hanging by a fiberglass thread.

Luckily for me I am a highly skilled auto body mechanic and was able to repair the car entirely to my satisfaction. :)

A Star Wars Themed Birthday Cake

This is the birthday cake my wife Katie made for me. She asked the girls what kind of cake they thought she should decorate. My eight-year-old suggested a Star Wars-themed cake. And, after a brief discussion, the Committee of Three Daughters told Katie that she should create R2D2.

The eight-year-old later said this was the best cake her mother has ever made, which is a pretty bold statement from her considering the chessboard cake that Katie made for L's last birthday. I, of course, absolutely love it. It totally fits my personality, and is truly a work of art.

Three Daughters Freak Out In The Wake of My New Haircut

Over the period of a week, my daughters fixated upon my hair, or lack of same. It all started when I got a badly needed haircut.

September 26:

I got my hair cut. When I walked in the house that evening . . . 

Six y/o: "Did you get your hair cut?! You don't look like yourself. I wanted you to look the same! You look so different now. I don't like it." Later, to a sister: "I really like his other hairdo."

Nine y/o: "Daddy, you don't look like my daddy anymore. Your new haircut looks dumb. It looks really bad. I wanted you to keep your hair!"

Me: "Okay, I'll try to grow it back."

Nine y/o: "Oh good! And your beard, too?"

Nope. Not growing that out. Sorry kid.

September 29:

Scene: I am sitting on the couch. L., age 8, and S., age 9, are in the room with me.

L. <running her fingers through my hair>: "Dad, why does your hair feel stiff and crunchy?"

Me: "Because it has gel in it."

L.: "You should always wear gel in your hair, dad. You look so much better that way."

S.: "No he doesn't. He looks terrible that way!"

You don't have to sugarcoat it, S.

September 30:

Eight y/o: "Dad, you just have a big bald head, don't you?"

Uh, can I plead the Fifth Amendment?

October 2:

Eight y/o: "Dad, you look so manly with gel in your hair. You just really look manly."

Wow, I didn't even have to lose weight or lift weights to look "manly." A little gel goes a long way, apparently.

My Daughters Are Becoming Territorial

My six-year-old daughter wrote this sign for her bedroom door, since her big sisters put a "please knock" sign on theirs. C's sign says, "Please knock if you are my sisters."

The instructions on this sign leave me completely bewildered. I am C's father. What am I supposed to do? Kick the door? Head-butt the door? Why can't I simply knock as well?

When the Boys Come Courting My Daughters

Eight y/o: "Dad, when boys come over to see us, you are going to ask them if they use correct grammar."

Nine y/o: "Yeah, you're going to put grammar questions on their tests."

Wait, what? I will be using written examinations to screen my daughters' potential suitors? I thought I was just going to be conducting oral interviews with them while ever so casually swinging a very large baseball bat back and forth. Boy, this is going to be more complicated than I imagined.