Okay, okay, so it’s Tuesday, and I’m supposed to post a Scene From Fatherhood every Friday. Well, here’s what happened on Friday: I picked up my three babes at the airport after they’d been away since Monday. So all day Friday after I picked them up, I played with said babes. And I forgot to write a Scene From Fatherhood because I was too busy living one. Sorry about that.
I can’t really remember the details of what we did on Friday, except that we had fun and my two girls and I had a bath in the big master bath before they went to bed. After the bath, we took a shower. You know, just because. My girls are suddenly very interested in taking a shower — they think it’s cool to walk through the water as it comes down from the spout. And guess what? It is cool. In fact, it’s especially cool to be with people who are young enough to think it’s fascinating to take a shower. Because they’ve only had a shower a few times in their life. The first few times they showered, they were a little fearful of it, and wanted to be held. But now, they want to walk in and out of the water and, of course, paint the water condensation on the glass door with their toothbrushes. Don’t you do that in the shower? If not, you should — I have learned it is a quite enjoyable, albeit temporary, artistic endeavor.
So my week without my girls was fairly lonely, as I predicted, but also as predicted, both Jack Bauer and I made it through. Jack killed more guys than I did, though. In fact, truth be told, I didn’t kill anybody. And nobody tried to kill me. I can’t say the same for Jack — the poor dude is always on somebody’s hit list. But I did a pretty good job of almost getting myself to bed on time, and I obsessively worked. I worked, exercised, played a few sports, and spent about ten minutes total every night eating dinner standing up at the kitchen counter in front of the soccer channel. Actually, not every night…
On Wednesday night, as promised to our wives, my friend George and I went to have dinner at Hooters. George has two daughters the same age as ours, and his wife and kids are visiting relatives in Korea for four weeks. Four weeks! And I was all pouty about being away from my family for five days. Pathetic. Anyway, we went to Hooters for dinner on Wednesday. I know you’re impressed, ladies. In any event, ladies, you will be even less impressed with my character when I tell you that, truth be told, George and I were not that impressed with the entertainment value — I mean waiting staff — at Hooters. I feel badly saying this, because they were all very nice young ladies, but — how should I put this? — they did not look like the buxom blonde bombshells in the Hooters ads and brochures.
Now, I had not been to a Hooters in about a decade — having once been to one in Florida in the nineties — and I suppose my expectations of a Baywatch-era Pamela Anderson approaching us as our waitress and suggestively asking what we’d like this evening was a bit too much to ask. In fact, next time, perhaps George and I should just order a pizza and rent a few episodes of Baywatch. It’s just a thought. George astutely speculated that perhaps Wednesday nights was the “B Team.” (Ladies, I can give you George’s email address for your direct responses to this truly horrifying albeit hilarious comment. Did I say hilarious? Of course, I didn’t think it was hilarious. I was laughing at, um, something else.) I can’t say for sure whether his observation holds any water. I suppose that, in the name of research and thoroughness, we’ll have to go back sometime on a Saturday to know for sure. I’ll keep you posted.
This entry has officially lowered the bar on “Scenes From Fatherhood.” And sometimes, that’s just the way life is.
I’ll talk to you soon.