The same exact chore is so completely different (and better) with Dad. I can't tell you how many times I've asked if anyone wants to help me paint, cook, garden, anything and gotten total silence. The same girl who begs me not to take her to the hardware store is the same girl who begs to go with when her father asks. She says it's because I'm always around, so there's no real reason to spend time with me. Perry says it's because Daddy is more fun, and that Daddy is very smart, you know.
This particular chore was fun to watch, and to listen to:
-
Arden: "Do you think I am a blue jay mixed with a calico cat? I'm trying to be a domesticated griffin."
Perry: "…"
Arden: "Or do you think I am a dog mixed with a bluebird?"
Perry: "…"
Arden: "Do you think I should have rainbow paws or should I just wear a necklace?"
Perry: "…"
Perry: "Wait, is there someone talking behind me?"
Little do they know that when they help him, they help me. I'm sure once they realize they're actually helping me, it suddenly won't be fun anymore and they'll put the kibosh on the whole helping "Dad" thing. A friend told me once that moms are like furniture—sturdy, always around, keeping things up, holding stuff in—so familiar that the kids don't even notice we're here. Honestly? I'm more than okay with that. I think it means I'm doing my job.
