Happy Father's Day

Some friends of ours threw a birthday party for their two-year-old last night. We made new acquaintances. I was relaxed and had good, if light, conversation, which does not always come easily for me. There were lots of kids there so my daughters had a blast.

It was after eight o'clock in the evening, past my daughters' bedtime, when we said our good-byes and headed home. Both Havilah and Simcha were dirty, sweaty, and quite happily exhausted after several hours' play. In the car they occupied themselves with discovering, comparing, and sorting various goodies and candy from their little gift bags, affording Michelle and me time to chat during the short ride home.

"Carlos offered me a cigar tonight," I say.

"I know, Michelle says. "I was afraid you would take it. I was glad to see you kept your promise."

There is a momentary pause. Then I say, "You know, a cigar's not the same thing as a cigarette."

This is the wrong thing to say. But, that's okay because I know that it is wrong. You see, there's a little game Michelle and I play sometimes. It's called Since Everything Is Going So Well And We Are Having Such A Nice Time And We Have A Moment Alone Let Us Now Try To Drive Each Other Insane With Annoyance. (SEIGSWAWAHSANTAWHAMALUNTTDEOIWA for short.) Well, I assume she knows that's the name of the game. We never really discussed it; but that's never stopped us from playing.

Michelle says, with an irritated tone, "Of course I know that."

Aha! I am winning the game! Already she is annoyed, AND she failed to come back with a clever quip to annoy me back. I wonder if she even realizes that we are playing! This gives me the tactical advantage.

I gather my thoughts for the next move. Then I say, in a tone and manner calculated to sound light and off-hand: "I should take up chewing tobacco. That's not smoking."

I can feel her gaze boring into me from the passenger's seat. "Don't you dare."

"Or snuff."

"Oh, please."

"You are not going to do any of those things," she adds.

"You are sssnot going to do sssnuff," she adds further. Now she is catching on!

"Or Cocaine."

"Brrrnt!" Havilah pipes in with her best game-show buzzer immitation. "Wrong answer, Daddy!"

"What did you say," I ask, astounded. She has never talked to me this way before.

"I said, 'Brrrnt! Wrong answer, Daddy!'," she repeats.

The sound of laughter explodes around me. Dammit! I lose. To a five-year-old!

I'm kidding really, I wasn't annoyed at all. I was laughing as hard or harder than everyone else.

What troubles me about the incident was that I said the word "cocaine" in front of my daughters, assuming that they wouldn't know what it was or remember the word afterward. I thought they were occupied with their gift bags and not paying attention to us.

I reason that Havilah said what she did because she's good at reading our non-verbal cues; she probably realized that I was joking, or that Michelle disapproved of what I was saying, or both. Still, I was surprised that she jumped into the conversation as if she knew what we were talking about.

Knowing children, she will reserve the word for a long time, then choose to repeat it at the most embarrasing possible moment.

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My younger daughter, Simcha (have I mentioned this more than a hundred times yet?) is about three and a half. She is devilishly smart, but not very verbal. She has a great ability to concentrate; she uses this wonderful talent to focus on everything but what we are saying to her.

First thing this morning, Michelle tells the girls, "Today is Father's day. Wish your father a happy Father's Day - give him a big hug!"

I imagine Simcha heard something like this: "Blah blah father blah blah father. Give him a hug!"

So, she naturally assumed it was time for me to go to work. "Goodbye, Daddy. Goodbye, Daddy," she said sweetly, and gave me a hug.

I work too much.

Maybe one of my Canadian friends can tell me if Father's Day is celebrated there.

Happy Father's Day!