Neanderpundit

Now, I am a big guy. I’m not merely fat, I’m strong too, and I love to eat. I love to eat good food, I haven’t become what I am because of cheeseburgers alone. Now, I try, I really do, to avoid the cornucopia of chow laid out before me at work nearly every day; sometimes, liike today, it is difficult as hell.

Today someone brought in three dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. Featured prominently in the collection were Chocolate cream filled oreo cookie frosted donuts. And for lunch, tons and tons of pizza. And although I went so far as to take one of the donuts back to my cube with me, and stare at it for a long while while I drank my sugarless coffee, I did not eat it. At the end of the day I breathed a huge sigh of releif, drove home to find thwt the Wife had discovered Krispy Kreme Chocolate Cream Filled Oreo Frosted Donuts! Aren’t they neat?

I thought I was going to blow all my gaskets at once. I feared I’d have an embolisim there on the spot. As it was, I ate my dry chicken breast and came here to relate the story. Maybe if I get it out of my system here I’ll avoid strangling the next person to bring in a fourteen pound coffee cake.

Sheesh.

All of the crap being floated around about gay marriage sort of astounds me. I just had a discussion with a friend about this, and as we were talking via IM, I was unable to judge her reactions. I wonder, even now, if she was screaming at the screen in disgust, or just cleaning her gun. At any rate, as is often the case when she cannot “bring me over to the light”, she makes her apologies and leaves.
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And I couldn’t be prouder.

No, I’m not abusing my child, and don’t even go there. I’ve never raised my hand to her, and I think I would personally rip the spleen out of anyone who did. No, it’s extremely rare that I ever even raise my voice

All in all, she is an incredibly happy child, and the high point of my day is seeing her run to me and jump into my arms at the days end.

Today, there was no running, no jumping. I learn from the wife that she and the daughter had a little disagreement on the way home from school; nothing major, the daughter just said something unkind to the momma, and realized what she’d said and apologised. When she heard the garage door open, though, she rushed to the momma and said, “Please don’t tell daddy”.

The wife said “We don;’t keep secrets from daddy. No secrets, at all, ever.”
The daughter was in tears.

When I confronted her, she told me the whole tearful story.

When you’re trying to raise a child, and you have only the training of memory, and you hope not to make the mistakes your parents may have made, or the ones you see friends making, you often have no guide.

I do. My daughter was so fearful of my disaproval that she was afraid to tell me of even the most insignificant transgression. No, she knows nothing will stop me from loving her. She knows I’ll never hurt her. She knows she can make the wrinkly chin pouty look and only want to hug her and make it all better. She fears nothing as much as she fears my disaproval. It’s a teensy, tiny sign that just maybe, We Are Doing It Right.
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