came home last night to find two little kids who had discovered the magic when clean socks and hardwood floors come together. They were gleefully running back and forth across the livingroom floor slip sliding with reckless abandon.
“C’mon, Daddy! You can do it with us. It’s fun!”
So I kicked off my shoes and got ready for the DorkDaddy freestyle livingroom ice-capades.
“No, Daddy! You have to do it in your undies!”
Well naturally. They were both clad only in their t-shirts, skivvies and socks. It made sense to me. Off came my trowsers and in short order I was “ice skating” with the kids in my “Risky Business” uniform (boxers though. I gave up tighty-wighties a long time ago). We screamed and hollared “Yahoooo!” loud enough for the neighbors to hear. In fact, had you been standing on the street at that moment and looked through the big bay window directly into my livingroom, you may have seen more of this DorkDaddy than you ever cared to see. My wife made no attempt to hide the head shaking as she prepared dinner. “You too, Mommy! Take off your pants and come ice skating with us!” I was all for the idea, but at 7.5 months pregnant I can’t fault her for declining.
“You realize my mother will be over any minute for dinner” said un-dorkMommy. It was a statement, not a question.
My daughter quickly and excitedly responded, “Maybe Dabba will ice skate in her undies with us too!”
Hah! That would be the day.