I brought Dick’s to a circumcision protest!

Yesterday I went to Seattle to participate in a rally to protest circumcision. I’ll write a full post about that soon. But, today’s post is about laughing at myself for being so boneheaded. Here’s the story. My younger three kids wanted to come along with me to the protest near Pike Place Market and as we neared our destination they informed me that they were hungry (it was almost noon) and begged me to take them to Dick’s Drive-In to get their delicious burgers and fries. While in line for our food I decided that the people protesting might benefit from some sustenance and so I ordered an extra ten cheeseburgers and fries to share once we got to the protest site.

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Dick’s Drive In

Upon our arrival I introduced myself to some of the protestors and offered them the food I had brought. As I held out the paper bag of food, which clearly has the name of the establishment on it, the guys looked at me a little funny but didn’t say anything. I explained that Dick’s Drive-In is a Seattle institution and that my kids ask to eat there every time we go to the Emerald City. The whole time I was there it never occurred to me that I was pretty much trolling my own generosity.

Once I got home one of my teenage daughters asked how the protest went and as I shared with her about bringing the burgers to the circumcision protest she started to shake her head and laugh. I hadn’t said anything funny so I asked her why she was laughing and she stopped and said “Dad, what did you bring them to eat?”. And then it dawned on me what I had done.

I brought Dick’s to a circumcision protest! Seriously. How on Earth did I possibly do that without realizing it until it was pointed out to me four hours later? I’m pretty proud of my sense of humor and ability to make awful Dad Jokes that make my kids roll their eyes. But to bring burgers from Dick’s to a circumcision protest without even trying? That’s almost grounds to lose my imaginary Dad Card. I mean, if I had realized what I was doing before handing them over I probably still would’ve done it and laughed about it. It would’ve been a next-level Dad Joke, possibly joke of the year in my mind, at least. Yeah, even at 43, I’m still a little bit immature sometimes. I mean, it is funny and Dick’s is pretty delicious!

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Oh, Crash-mas Tree!

There are a handful of sounds that will wake me up and get me out of bed almost instantaneously. Among them are a dog dry-heaving, a cat hacking up a hairball, my kid telling me she might be getting sick, and the thud of my kid falling out of bed. Maybe. That’s really about it. Or so I thought. I can now add crashing Christmas tree to that list. I was still asleep at 7:15 am (My kids sleep in, who am I to complain?) when all of a sudden I heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering on a wood floor. As I jumped out of bed and into some clothes I knew that the tree had fallen over. We got our tree a couple of weeks ago and, despite my best efforts, it never really was perfectly vertical. It was our Christmas tree version of the leaning tower of Pisa. It leaned a little bit. But it was sturdy enough (or so it seemed) to stay upright and the kids had gleefully decorated it with their ornaments once I had finished stringing the lights. Sure, it was slightly quirky that, from one angle, the angel atop the tree seemed to be tilted. But after a few days I stopped noticing how it leaned and pretty much forgot about it. It was pretty and it was upright.

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Trees can’t hold their egg nog very well. 

Well, as I came down the steps to assess the damage, my wife was already standing next to it, trying to keep the water from flowing all over a cardboard puzzle that my two year old had left out near the tree the previous day. I promptly retrieved some towels from the kitchen and continued to clean up the water, silently wishing I hadn’t refilled the reservoir right before I had gone to bed that night. Oh, I should mention that I at least had the presence of mind to unplug the lights before I touched the tree or started cleaning up the mess. My wife gave one more look at the fallen tree and informed me that some people refer to this as a tree fainting. And, with that tidbit of knowledge imparted to me, she happily left for work, knowing that I would get it all taken care of before she returned home that evening.

 

Three towels later the water was all sopped up. A quick tour of the Christmas carnage revealed only three broken ornaments: two glass balls and the foot of a Cinderella ornament. She might need to be renamed The Unbreakable Cinderalla because that same ornament suffered the same injury on her other foot just last year. I gently removed all of the other fragile ornaments from the tree and set them on the window seat.

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Naughty tree, go stand in the corner!

Then I took the tree stand off of the tree so that I could try to get it on there again, only straighter this time. I think this tree secretly doesn’t like me or is just plain naughty, because, try as I might, I couldn’t get it to stand perfectly upright. So, being the resourceful guy that I am I carefully slid it over to the corner so that it tilted ever so slightly toward the corner walls. Mission accomplished, O Tannenbaum!. A few sweeps of the broom collected all of the needles that had fallen off the tree and that was it. Our Christmas tree was back in business, although there will be no rockin’ around the Christmas tree this year in our house. Just in front of it.

When my 14 year old daughter walked into the room a few minutes later she asked me why the tree was in the corner. Upon hearing my story about the crashing tree and its subsequent new placement in the corner, she tried to sneak a Dad-joke past me, asking, “Aren’t you concerned that it might catch fire there in the corner?” Dad-its-so-cold-in-here-Go-stand-in-the-corner-Why-The-corner-is-90-degreesDespite it being relatively early in the morning and still pre-coffee, I got her reference to this meme. Without missing a beat I told her that I wasn’t remotely concerned, because the kindling point or autoignition temperature of wood was much higher than 90 degrees. She rolled her eyes at me which  pretty much affirmed that my work there was done, even if, technically speaking, that corner was more obtuse than right. I may or may not have walked into the kitchen after her, searching on my iPhone the exact KP for wood (572* F). Hey, once a science teacher, always a science teacher! I actually taught this exact stuff years ago during the always-popular FIRE unit. I’m not sure who loved it more, my 7th grade students or me!

I shared this light-hearted story with you all so that you, too, can get a small taste of what my children have to endure get to enjoy every single day with me as their dad. I’m literally the gift that keeps on giving. Every. Single. Day. Merry Christmas from my cheesy corner of the interwebs.