“Say your prayers Little One, don’t forget my son, to include everyone. I tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin…‘til the sandman he comes.”
Welcome to the world of Hard Rock Daddy…a place to discover great music, go inside the mind of a modern-day dad and journey with a virtual backstage pass into the lives of an entertaining, offbeat family.
“Enter Sandman” is the perfect introduction to my family.
My daughter (“Little One”) and my son can be the best of friends at times when they are not engaged in an epic battle over seemingly insignificant events. In fact, the only time that there is guaranteed serenity in our home is when the “sandman” comes.
In a recent discussion about morning breath, I jokingly told Little One that it is caused by the sandman, a little man who puts the “sand” in your eyes and then poops in your mouth. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, our family is much closer to The Osbournes than it is to Ozzie and Harriet.
The morning breath issue came up again a few days ago…
I woke up with a pounding sinus headache to the dulcet tones of Little One screaming at the top of her lungs at my son who apparently breathed on her on purpose with bad breath. In her frenzy, she started slamming doors. One of her slams was so hard that it sent my son’s sports figurines flying off of the shelf in his room. Half asleep, in pain and dazed from the morning action, I helped my son pick up the figurines and proceeded to the bathroom where my wife was getting ready for work, and Little One was showering before school…or so I thought.
When I walked into the bathroom, the water was running and the curtain was closed, so I assumed that my daughter was in the shower. I yelled into the shower that she better not slam the doors like that again.
A little voice responded…
“I’m right here.”
Frustrated, I yelled…
“I know that you’re right there. And I’m telling you not to slam the door like that again!”
Laughing, a little voice responded once again…
“I’m right here!”
My wife couldn’t contain her laughter at my confusion and inability to determine where the voice was coming from. Little One was perched on top of the closed toilet seat like a frog as she waited for the water to heat up. I couldn’t see her because my wife was blocking my view. We all laughed hysterically at the madness, and the tension caused by the morning breath and door slamming incident was gone in an instant.
Not to be outdone by my stroke of insanity, Little One came up with a gem of her own.
After I used the toilet and flushed, my daughter was grossed out and complained to my wife because, in her mind, she was now showering in Daddy’s “pee water.” I shook my head, sighed and walked out the door, leaving my wife to explain to Little One how plumbing actually works.
Just another day in the life of Hard Rock Daddy!
Little One is my hero!!!!
Mine too, Cat! She is the best!