Wednesday, February 1, 2012


I went to the house last night after stopping at the store to pick up a few things, including dinner. As soon as I saw Handsome, I knew he wasn't having a terrific day.

"Hey there, Handsome, what's the haps?" I said as I entered the TV room to find him slouching on the couch.

"Hi," he replied, in what could be termed a 'mopey' fashion.

"What's the matter?"

He sighed. "I just have so much homework!" He was upset enough to be flapping his hands as he complained.

"Hey-hey," I drawled, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. "I know what'll cheer you up."


"You know what we're having for dinner?"

He raised an eyebrow, but was too put out to actually ask.


"And potatoes and corn," he said morosely. "Yeah, I know."

He got up and started out toward the dining room (still flouncing his hands in disgust), where he was going to sit and do his homework. I suddenly darted into his path.

"Steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak..."

I was chanting rhythmically, singing the word at him with a weird dance beat. And I was dancing.

I was up on my toes, doing something that looked a bit like Peewee Herman's "Big Shoe Dance", but faster. And with better rhythm. he stopped and stared at me. I had my hands down by my sides, but I brought them up above my head, weaving them back and forth as I danced.

"Steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak..."

I spread my feet wider, sliding from side to side with the beat. My hands were spread out wide as well, and I was doing an exaggerated shoulder-shimmy, singing louder, bumping my head from side to side.

"Steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak..."

He pushed me, trying to get by. I fell back away from him, but then came back at him. I was jigging backwards and forwards now, my hands swinging out in front of me when I went forward and behind me when I moved back. I sang louder when I charged him, but let my voice fall when I dropped back.

"Steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak..."

He was almost smiling. He tried to push me again, harder this time, thrusting out at me with both hands and throwing some weight behind it.

I was ready.

I brushed his hands aside with a quick flick of my hand, and the lack of resistance caused  him to stumble forward. I caught him beneath the arms as he fell, pulling him into an embrace.

Into the dance.

"Steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak..."

I flopped him from side to side to the beat, chanting in his ear as I stomped my feet to the rhythm. He started to struggle, but quickly gave in and went boneless, hoping to drop out of my grip through sheer dead weight. I simply hugged him tight and kept the dance going, careful not to step on his limp feet as they dragged about the kitchen.

He gave in.

He started laughing.

That was all I wanted. I stood him on his feet (after dancing with him a little while, I'll admit) and sent him off to start his homework. This time he had a smile on his face as he approached the task, and his attitude was 1,000% better.

Sometimes, in order to be a good Dad, you have to be a huge weenie as well.

Luckily, that just seems to come naturally to me.

Talk to you later!

"Steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak, steak-steak-steak, steak-steak..."


  1. Yes, the sacrifices we make as parents. We used to be weird without witnesses:)

  2. Oh, Juliann, it's not witnesses that are the problem, it's that I open my big mouth about it here! This one did make my mother laugh, though.