I have three kids and with my oldest in first grade, she is at the point in her life where she wants me to do things with her at her school. This past Sunday (during the hockey game) I attended my first ever father-daughter dance. I can’t say i was thrilled to be there and while my daughter had a blast, I entertained myself by texting my wife my thoughts on the events at hand.
ME: I want to stab myself in the eyes.
WIFE: Having an excellent time i see.
ME: excellent would be a North Korean prison camp, this ranks below that.
WIFE: Is Morgan having fun?
ME: Sure, if she thinks standing in line for 45 minutes is fun. Of course she may also be a sadist.
WIFE: What are you standing in line for?
ME: Dog poop… or photos, take your pick.
WIFE: Wow, you’re so angry…. Next time pack a flask
(After standing in line for 15 more minutes a pair of girls stop to talk to the father/daughter combo in front of me)
ME: I did not realize that sweat pants and knit boots were an attire option for this event. I’m going to keep that in mind for next year.
WIFE: I think you would look awesome in knit boots
ME: Probably better than the ninny who is sporting them right now.
WIFE: Well we should keep that in mind.
(Finally in the dance proper my dissatisfaction with being there starts to overflow)
ME: Seriously, who dresses their already homely looking daughter in sweat pants, UGly boots and a pink flannel shirt? This is a father daughter dance, not a fucking hoe-down.
WIFE: I am glad you found something to do
ME: What? Pick on sad children? I do that everywhere I go. These people should be honored by my mere presence.
(Watching my daughter play with her little friends)
ME: Our daughter runs like a mentally challenged orangutan. But if there is ever a zombie invasion at least she is faster than her fat friend.
WIFE: Thanks for sharing
ME: Oh great, 75 minutes in they’ve finally decided to Get it Started.
WIFE: Well at least they did not waste anytime
(When the lights in the gym finally went down)
ME: If find it outlandish have turned out the lights and instead of playing Thriller they play PYT.
WIFE: Really, you could try having fun
ME: You are right, I could try to have fun but in the immortal words of a little green Muppet from the planet Dagobah, “do or do not, there is no try” and actually having fun would so go against my Oscar the Grouch persona and we don’t want to damage my public image.
WIFE: Well I suppose you are right, enjoy your misery. I’m getting my nails done
ME: I have two words for you and they aren’t particularly nice.
WIFE: I’m sure they are “love you”
ME: You seem to have a fundamental misunderstanding with my last text. Enjoy the Vietnamese finger painters. I’m going to scour the school for something sharp to stab myself with.
WIFE: There is a letter opener in my desk.
ME: Yeah to get that I would have to stand in the line for pictures again.
WIFE: Sorry, I was trying to help… Try the PACHS cafe, they have knives.
(And its line dancing time…)
ME: Oh isn’t that cute…. They’ve taught my daughter to do a stupid line dance.
WIFE: Well she does have a dance class at school, what did you think she would learn the tango?
(On inappropriate music for the event…)
ME: I’m not entirely sure Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” is appropriate for a pre-teen father daughter dance but WTF do I know?
WIFE: I think you may be right, maybe they could follow up with baby got back
ME: Or maybe they could play 50 Cent’s P.I.M.P. next
WIFE: or that…
ME: Sadly some of these babies do have large assess and a gut to match. And for some reason they are trying to accentuate them.
ME: Oh great it’s Macarena time.
WIFE: Oh good you know that one…
ME: It’s like I’ve died and gone to fairy hell what with all these pixies jumping around in my face.
WIFE: They are children, what do you want
ME: I want to punch this little fat whiny bitch in the face. Sorry you did not get a glow stick or a blow up guitar but maybe you did not get one because your attitude sucks on donkey balls.
WIFE: Who is it?
ME: I don’t know. I’ve named her Smerty the Abnormally Shaped Curmudgeon
WIFE: Ask Morgan who it is
ME: She doesn’t know either. She only knows about four people here and this kid was probably in seventh or eighth grade. Or maybe she just ate a lot.
ME: Ooohh… the Electric Slide, I can hardly contain my excitement
WIFE: You know that one too.
ME: How depressing they know how to do the Cotton Eye Joe, the Macarena and the Electric Slide but Thriller (finally) comes on and everybody stands around like they have sticks up their asses.
(and the final straw…)
ME: OH GOD! I AM TRULY IN HELL. It’s 100+ pre-teen girls, on stage singing Taylor Swift
ME: I still have two words for you.
In the end, despite my dissatisfaction with being there, my daughter had fun so I fulfilled my parental duty and I also found a way to entertain myself in the process.