Dad Entry #67

Meggie told me she wants to go on another ‘Daddy Date’. Just the two of us. Aw shucks, what a sweetheart. Although, seriously, when she mentioned it, my heart leapt. I love her. And, naturally, she will not date anyone else until she's 30. After which I will surrender to established family wisdom. Actually, law. It’s family law. Legislated, sans gavel or vote but spoken with incontestable authority by my grandfather, the Honorable Byard Cox, to his daughters Denise and Diane. He told them, “You can date when you’re 30, but only if your husband says it’s ok.”

Honestly, I might loosen up and let Megan date before she's 30 years old. But her Godfather, Josiah - formerly a bouncer and undefeated professional MMA cage fighter - will chaperone.

And Greg will be sitting in the next booth. And Jim outside with 500 horsepower idling. And Dave flying air support. Yeah, I know. It's a bad cliche. A dead horse. "Answer the door with your shotgun," and, "Make sure you're oiling your guns when he stops by." Silly. Should I tell Dave we won't need air support?

There is really nothing cuter in the world than Meggie asleep in the car. But it’s a bit scary too. Her head tilts at extreme angles, occasionally rolling from shoulder to shoulder, chin on chest. I drive carefully to prevent what I’m sure will be upper spinal cord or disc injuries if I even change lanes. Of course, driving carefully on the interstate outside of Chicago is difficult. The cars and trucks around me accelerate, then slow down, then toss the finger at me and everybody else, then angrily race and chase each other while otherwise weaving all over the place.

So watching Meggie sleep in her bed is cute too. I know Sara and I are both fond of this ritual. We just check on her, maybe straighten a blanket or contorted limb, or remove whatever is directly obstructing her open-mouthed breathing. I swear sometimes she’s inhaling a corner of a blanket with every breath. For at least a tiny instant I think, Good God, she’s suffocating! Then I think, Relax, she’s fine, zillions of people sleep every night with pillows or blankets near their mouths. And then I move the pillow or blanket anyway.

Megan and Michael are both terrific swimmers. Especially Michael. Scholarship? Navy SEALs? He’s very comfortable in the water. No surprise, given his pedigree. Both kids are fine in the deep end. Michael prefers it. More room to dive. Megan is ok with it, although maybe I’m not (see the paragraph above). But Megan stays close to the edge of the pool. Or to me. She can jump in and paddle right back to the edge by herself. No assistance. Then she climbs out and does it again. And again. Same with Michael. They will do this forever. And sleep very good that night. I remember never refusing an offer to swim. And never wanting to stop, even as our lips turned blue, as the temperature and sun both dropped. Michael will dive down and swim around the bottom, and grab at my legs. I don’t mind, even when he scrapes me with a nail or pulls out leg hairs on accident. What I mind is when he surfaces nearby and starts swimming away and kicks me square in the trunks.

I learned something at Alissa’s First Communion. It was a longer service than Megan is used to, and she got crabby and restless. She wouldn’t sit still, wouldn’t listen to whispered admonitions. She pushed my hand away when I placed it on her – gently but firmly (I’m destined for politics) – to counter some squirming and let her know I meant business. In summary: a storm was brewing. I wouldn’t say Megan has public outbursts, but on rare occasions her antics have escalated to removal from the premises for a more focused talking-to. Well… I noticed that nothing quells a threatening naughty spell from your own four-year-old like a tantrum by somebody else’s. The little girl in front of us melted down and was carried out kicking and screaming and taking swings at her mother. It was an impressive display. Most of us around the girl, including Megan, watched in awe, alarmed, or relieved we weren’t involved, or something. Megan was pretty subdued for the remainder of the ceremony.