Cruel and Unusual Punishment

There isn’t much I won’t do for my kids.  I would give my very last breath for their happiness, blah blah blah and all that.

In fact a few summers back, when my babies were actually babies, the twins were playing on the floor of the kitchen as I made dinner.  The back door was open to let in the breeze… ok ok ok… the door was open because inevitably my “cooking” was going to set the smoke detector off.  Still, the breeze was nice too.  Suddenly from the corner of my eye I saw a GIANT tarantula skittering towards my chubby little babies!  With nary a thought for my own safety…. Or even my own life… I twirled and slammed my BARE FOOT down onto the Kong like Arachnid.

I stood there for a moment.  I was pretty sure that the spider had already injected me with its deadly venom, these were my last moments on earth.  I lifted my foot to see the crushed remains …. of a leaf.  A frickin leaf.  But hey… it still counts!  I think this is sufficient evidence as to how far I will go for my children.

However… if you’re like me (and I assume you at least aspire to be) you have limits.  And my line in the sand is firmly set at “Daddy can you play/ watch sportsball with me?”

 

I am fully aware that my future consists of sitting in the stands on cold hard bleachers, watching various… you know… games or whatever.  I have come to some acceptance around this. I will be there for it all, and I will loudly cheer and gleefully embarrass each of them.   Although I am not sure I can pull of the uniform.  The hair for sure is going to be tricky.

And as far as “playing” with them, I assure you I will build, I will smash, I will paint, heck I will play doll tea party dressed as whatever princess you want me to.

I am down for it all, bring it on…. But…. watching sports (when not legally required) is too much to ask.  I went to a “gay superbowl” party once before we had kids.   My expectations were high and the hosts did not disappoint.  The home was gorgeous; the décor was AMAZE balls and the food…. GUUUUUUUURL shoot. 

Here’s where they lost me.

They still made me WATCH THE FUCKING SUPER BOWL.  Seriously, 10 hours of watching men chase a baseball up and down the court.  I was literally dying inside while my sisters were hooting and hollering like … straight men.  All I could think was “What the VERY hell?”  One of the perks of being gay is the lack of athletic expectation.

My kiddos, you HAVE a big, manly, sporty type dad… over there.  I CHOSE him for these very reasons!  This is kind of his whole deal.

Besides, I don’t even know how to kick the football into the hoop.