Clark: 'Tis the season to be merry.Mary: That's my name.
Clark: No shit.
It’s pretty amazing that I’ve made it nearly 13 years as a father without (a) the kids being taken to foster care or (b) me being led away with handcuffs over my strict “clean something for food” policy. I’m not saying I’m a bad husband and father, I’m just saying that Mrs. Nitmos and the kids get more sympathy than a partially squashed puppy gasping for air by the side of the road. Despite my best efforts, like flowers growing through a gravel pit, the kids have found a way to thrive anyhow.
But there are still those “some times” when I know a little bit of me has passed along in the genes.
Case in point: My 9 year old filly has the Christmas Crazies right now. And she has a lot of questions. Like any good Dad, I don’t actually answer questions. I remain vague and, if pressed, provide needlessly detailed circular logic that makes her so confused she’s afraid to ask a follow-up. One of the great joys of parenthood is pretending to know it all without actually doing or saying anything of value. You’ve read this blog…you know I’m good at that.
We are hurtling down highway 127 Sunday on our way home from the grandparents with a back end loaded with dirty clothes, a dog, and various dolls and Nerf guns. The radio is rocking holiday favorites by Trans-Siberian Orchestra, The Jackson Five, and Taylor Swift. I’m driving and wondering why I’m listening to a station that plays those songs. Clearly I’ve lost control.
In the middle of “White Christmas”, my daughter asks what Jesus’ last name is. (Ok, so right away you know we are not regular church goers. Don’t judge.) We provide the answer and breakdown the word Christmas for her.
She seems satisfied and looks out the window for a minute. Then, she speaks back up, “So what is God’s last name? Is it Damn?”
I smile proudly. My heart grew three sizes that day. God Bless Us One and All!
This 'tude knocked in 24 goals in 19 competitive league soccer games this fall!
Happy trails.
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I see Ian wandered out of the desert (or dessert?) and tore open the shutters and threw up the sash of Half-Fast. And then changed his blog subtitle to include a poop joke. Stay classy! His comeback announcement came complete with references to LL Cool J and Culture Club. I suppose that foretells some upcoming posts about the new fitness fads he discovered called the “hula’ed hoop” and a “flying disc”. Stay current!
Still, this is my second favorite “comeback” of the year. Right behind the Backstreet Boys.
22 comments:
Where EVER did your daughter get the idea that God's last name was "damn"? :)
"pretending to know it all without actually doing or saying anything of value"
Hmmm. You have an Arts degree, right?
Brilliant, I laughed so hard I nearly pooped. You can just see the cogs churning that one as the innocent mind marinates the next question. I can sense your pride.
Psh. The backstreet boys never left.
Brilliant comment by your daughter though. She must take after you :p
I would laugh, but I might go to hell.
"She seems satisfied and looks out the window for a minute. Then, she speaks back up, “So what is God’s last name? Is it Damn?”
I smile proudly. My heart grew three sizes that day. God Bless Us One and All!"
I don't think I've laughed this hard in awhile, ESPECIALLY after I saw her adorably cute mean face. Priceless!
Wow, you are doing a fantastic job of parenting. I hope I'm as lucky as you some day to have a child who is so clever. Mary Christmas--Cheers!
Hahahahaha... that is awesome!
I now fully expect your next post to be about you taking your son Christmas shopping... "Can't see the line, can you Russ."
She definitely looks like she has some attitude. Someone to watch out for in a few years. I suspect her behavior may attempt to drive you to an early grave...
Jesus' last name is "of Nazareth." Sheesh. Get it right next time, willya?
The Backstreet Boys had a comeback this year? I totally missed it.
She's too damn smart and funny. I'm assuming that's from the Mrs. Nitmos side of the family.
What's this? I get a whole season to be myself? Cool!
The picture of your daughter is beautiful. That probably means she is too :)
This: " I remain vague and, if pressed, provide needlessly detailed circular logic that makes her so confused she’s afraid to ask a follow-up. " is going to be my new official strategy. You are brilliant!
Smart kid!
Merry Christmas to you and the fam... give the little rug rats a break for the holidays, would ya? :)
Clark: Whew, it's warm in here.
Mary: Well you have your coat on.
Clark: Ah yes I do, why is that?
Mary: Because it's cold out.
Clark: Yes it is, it's a bit nipply out. I mean nippy out, what did I say, nipple? Huh, there is a nip in the air.
Your daughter is genius.
Merry Christmas!
LOL. wonder where she got that idea from? did you then claim her as your child or pass her off as the mrs' child? (i overheard some people at walmart talking about sweet kid = theirs, wild child = their spouses)
Your daughter is an excellent person and clearly a genius.
This post made me feel all warm and fuzzy for the holidays- and since I'm a bit of a Grinch that is a remarkable feat.
Something about the combo of all the Christmas Crazies resonated with my slightly sarcastic brain in an pleasant way. Well done.
"She seems satisfied and looks out the window for a minute. Then, she speaks back up, “So what is God’s last name? Is it Damn?”
I just spit coffee.
Sadly, my children DO know what Jesus' last name is...and its not because they learned it in church. They learned it while riding in the car with me driving. :)
Ha! I just watched that very scene from Christmas Vacation night before last. "These are french cut. I am wearing a pair right now...see?" Great post...kids have such a wonderful, witty, straightforward view of things.
Your daughter comes by her spitfire nature honestly, I see. She also seems to be growing like a weed though admittedly I don't think you've posted a photo of your kids for a while now.
The story about your daughter is probably the funniest "my kid said" story I've ever heard.
hahahahhaha. You're raising them right. I don't care WHAT CPS says, you're raising them right.
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