If You Call Me “Daddy Daycare” One More Time…

Hey, you.Daycare

Yes, you.

You who insisted on calling me “daddy daycare” when I was with my son at Starbucks.  You need to cut it out.

Seriously.  This is hard enough without throwing in the term “care.” That’s a lot of pressure.

Plus, it is a terrible movie.  One of Eddie Murphy’s worst…and that’s saying a lot.

It’s not “daddy daycare”. It’s called “taking parenting seriously.”  It’s called, “quality time.”  It’s called, “Daddy has a hankering for a Starbucks coffee and he can’t responsibly leave the 9 month old alone at home, so grab your snowsuits.”

It’s called “A quick prayer was just thrown up that we survive this trip.”

But it shouldn’t be a surprise that, on my day off, I’m chilling with my boy, right?  Shouldn’t it be the norm?

And, if you spend any time watching us, you’ll notice that I’m not so much a “daycare” as I am a magician, a puppet-master, a story-teller, a banana cutter, a whiz at opening food containers one handed, and an unending encyclopedia of animal noises.

Don’t believe me?  You try reading a book on animals and turn to the giraffe.  He’s expecting a sound, you know.  The lion has a sound.  The bear has a sound (similar to the lions, interestingly enough).  The elephant has a noise.

And then you turn to the giraffe.

What the hell?  Baby book editors: make a warning label that this book has a giraffe in it so I won’t start making sounds at the beginning.  You’re killing me.

Pro-tip for dads: a zebra, giraffe, and rhino all make the same noise…because I really can’t figure out that many variations.  It sounds like a screaming goat.

“I love seeing fathers with their children in public.”

This was actually said to me today, too.  A sweet woman, I’m sure.  But what do I say to that?  “Thanks?”  Aren’t I supposed to be doing this?

Or maybe I say, “And I love strangers commenting on my life objectively.”

Or maybe I, like I did today, just rip open a bag of raisins and cram them into my mouth before he can grab any.

Choking hazard, you know…

I’m not a Daddy Daycare.  I’m a dad.  And, if you watch closely, “care” is a strong term to use.

I’m just trying to make sure my kid survives the trip to Starbucks.

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