What Makes My Day

It’s Wednesday. Oh, oh, we’re halfway there!

I’m so glad she hasn’t mastered “Angry Daddy” face yet.

I was at work until about 6:45 in the evening yesterday. I had to judge a slam poetry thing after school. I thought this might take an hour or so, so I decided that I might as well just stay and get some work done. I have fall break next week and grades aren’t due until 8 AM on the following Monday, but still. I don’t want to spend the break – and GUYS’ COLUMBUS DAY in particular – grading stuff. My Honors and Advanced Placement courses will turn in their poetry term papers tomorrow, so that’s 40 essays I’ll have to get through. That’s why I’m trying to plow through everything else.

I got home a little after 7 PM smelling of cigarettes and sweat. I was tired. I was greeted by an excited Abby wagging her tail at the top of our stairs. When I made it to the top, Madison shouted “Daddy!” and popped off the couch. She ran to me and hugged my leg. I was instantly 34% less tired.

I got undressed and Madison hovered in the area. “How was your day, Daddy?” she asked. I sighed. “It as long. A lot of grading and papers and stuff,” I said. “But how was your day? Was it awesome?” she continued. “It is now,” I said. “That’s good,” she said. “How was your day?” I asked. “It was awesome,” she said. Apparently, she’s added “awesome” to her vocabulary and like Lynnette with a new dress or me with a new toy, she just can’t wait to try it out.

“What did you do today?” I asked. She went on to give me an outline of her entire day. She was most proud of her writing time which she described as “writing the same “D” over and over again.” “That’s great,” I said. “You know, I like to write, too,” I said. “Oh, dad!” she said. I motioned for her to come over to where I was sitting and she did. I brought her in tight, her back to my belly. I rested my chin on her head. “You know, when you were a baby-baby (I use this term to illustrate extreme infancy), I used to rest you right here (I pointed to my chest) and tuck your head under my chin, just like this,” I said. “Why?” she asked. “Because it fit perfectly. And every once in a while, I do it again to see if you still fit,” I said. “I’m going to get big,” she said. “I know, baby,” I said.

And then when I thought that she had already made my night, she went and did this:

You know, when Madison wasn’t born yet and when she was a baby-baby, I quixotically believed that I would somehow influence her away from radio pop music. I had some foolish notion that I would foster in her an appreciate for Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles by the time she was 6 or something. I was waaaay wrong. Anyway, based on what I can understand from Madison’s cover of One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful,” here are her lyrics:

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else.

The the way that you flip your hair gets me all the whales.

The way you smile at the ground gets hard to tell,

You don’t know-oh-oh!

You don’t know you’re beautiful.

As you can tell from my laughter at the end of the clip, I went to bed a pretty happy guy.

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