Hey Dads, and you too moms, ever noticed how you have different feelings towards your child calling ‘mommy’ or ‘Daddy’?
When your little one first utters the word ‘Dadda’ or ‘Mama’, you drop whatever you were doing, and run to their crib, or where ever they are. “Oh my God! She said Dadda! She said Dadda! Did you hear that, hon? Babes, little Elsa just said Dadda!” As the ‘Dadda’ utterances get more frequent, your response times slows until one day, you barely react. Glued to your television set watching the Winnipeg Jets play the Washington Capitals, little Elsa’s ‘Dadda’ falls on deaf ears.
Unfortunately, little Elsa is not ‘little’ anymore. The cuteness is gone. Elsa is 7 years old and now says ‘daddy’ instead of ‘dadda’. You barely noticed the transition and sometimes actually cringe when you hear ‘Daddy!’ Just call your mom, already! What does a guy have to do to just get some peace and quiet around here? It’s not the same anymore, is it?
Too often, I read of stories where parents, granted, most of them celebrities, which doesn’t make them real parents, have watched their children perform in nude scenes without being bothered. Some moms have sat in the audience while their sons used their penis like putty to make silly shapes. Not bothered one bit. Some men have also showed up at the daughters’ strip joints and enjoyed a show with their buddies.
Take this story for example, NBC Nightly News broadcaster Brian Williams, watched his daughter Allison in a raunchy sex scene recently. He attended a premiere of the new season of Girls. The scene called for Allison’s lover to get close and personal with her naked ass. “Get your face in there!” Yelled the director. “Not you sir”, he added as Brian got up out of seat.
I don’t know about you but watching my daughter have sex is not something I have on my bucket list. In fact, the mere thought disgusts me. Isn’t that a torture tactic where terrorists force you to watch them have sex with your family? Why would anyone, especially a dad, willingly watch this? Well unless he has some kinda…nevermind.
Next time you talk to Brian, say to him, “Hey, nice ass on your daughter! I would like to tap that”. You never know, he might ask if he could watch.
Why do people get so scared when the topic of discussion is racial? I am a black man married to a white woman and we have mixed kids. Of course they are curious about their culture. Whenever they do or say something that is funny, I post it on Facebook and quite interestingly, everyone shy away from it. They like my food pics, my lame stories about nothing, my YouTube videos but me saying my kids said they would rather be black than white, is not likeable.
So, let’s knock down some barriers here. Don’t be a wuss, we are all humans. who gives a crap about color? I don’t. I make jokes about blacks, whites, red, yellow, whatever. You don’t like it, then you have a problem. Trust me, if we can’t laugh at these things then we are in a whole heap of trouble.
Your uncomfortable silence when I talk about my color is troubling. It bothers me. It makes me notice that I am indeed black and then I feel different. So come on, lighten up. Let’s talk race. Come on, tell me a black joke. What’s the worst that can happen? I punch you in the face? Nah…
English: Shakira at the Rock in Rio concert in 2008. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I read somewhere, maybe here, that singer Shakira loves the art of breastfeeding so much that she apparently said she would love to breastfeed her son until he starts college. Those are strong words, Shak!
Now in case Shakira doesn’t know this, after kids turn 5, they usually go through a phase where they don’t want anything to do with their parents, much less their boobs. If her son remains true to form, it is quite safe to say he might not enjoy taking time away from playing Xbox 360 or watching UFC, to grab a few sips of milk from his hot mommy’s mammaries. Even if it does a body good.
That’s where I come in. Because she loves, really loves, breastfeeding, I am hereby offering my services to Shakira. I love milk and I suck. Well my wife says I do…so it’s a win-win situation. Plus with these lips, I could suck the paint off a wall and you know that…(drum roll please) LIPS DON’T LIE!
Today I took my kids to the splash park in the neighborhood as a treat for good behavior. It was packed! No, not just busy, packed! The first thing I noticed was how I was overdressed for the venue. Mothers in two-piece bikinis on the plus side of skimpy, chased their little ones around as if they were at the beach. I was confused. I was excited. Then I was sober. Wasn’t this supposed to be a splash park where kids play at the mini fountains while their parents sit in the shade and watch with hawk eyes? Granted, there was a wading pool but it was hardly an excuse to don a full-out bathing attire. It wasn’t deep enough to cover my toenail. Plus, the bikini-clad ones never even got their ankles wet. Oh wait a minute! Maybe they were there to catch a tan. Yes! That’s it! They were dressed to tan. Who cares if the sun was barely out.
As I stewed in consternation and compared butts, I pondered going back home to get my swim trunks. Just then a mother in her late 30’s or so strolled past me wearing heels. Yep, heels with straps. Looked really nice on her feet but for some reason, again seemed out-of-place. I glanced up and she was dressed as though she should have stayed outside the fence monitoring her kids from afar rather than up close, risking a wet down. And yes, she could have been at work when she suddenly got hit by an idea. Why don’t you get up from your desk and go take your kids to the splash park? That would explain the high heels. But what about the shorts? Ok, I never said I have all the answers. I looked at my own feet in thongs. (not that kind). Come on man, at least wear your Nikes!
Maybe it’s a sign that I’m getting old, (my birthday was just last week) Thinking conservative and all. I need to loosen up a bit, both mentally and in attire. Nothing wrong with mingling with kids while wearing bathing suits, right? Of course not. It’s not at all like bringing beer to a child’s birthday party. No, nothing at all like that.