paisan

Mornings at our house run like the Sodor Railway.  Everyone is very useful, and we generally run on time.  At least in theory.

I first realized that this particular morning had jumped the track when Claire began yelling for her brother insistently in Italian “Paisan, paisan, PAISAN.”  I was a little confused at first.  For one thing, Claire doesn’t know Italian.  For another, William was all the way across the room playing with legos and minding his own business.  I hadn’t had my coffee yet.  

Eventually, my slow brain and Claire’s toddler tongue synced up.  It turned out that my little princess was not a linguistic prodigy after all.  “Play sand” she insisted in English.  This time she pointed at the sandbox, helping her idiot father to get the picture.  “Noooo,” was the only sensible response.  I already had both toddlers fed, changed, dressed, and ready to head out the door for mommy’s house.

If she knew how to stomp her feet she would have done it then.  Instead, she assumed that I still listening in Italian, and ran to the sliding glass door.  “Play Sand, plasand, paisan.”  Strident now.  She speaks in triplets.  She speaks in tongues.  No matter.  Her body language made it clear that she was not getting into my car without a fight.

Now, I am not above spoiling my little girl.  It is my right as a daddy.  My girl sees a baby bear in the store that she wants, she has a better than even chance of coming home with it.  She wants another story before bed, she gets it.  But my back was up against the wall.  She was already dressed.  I was dressed in a suit.  I had to get to work to do a witness interview.  Plus it was cold and wet outside.  There was no way it could happen.  No way.  No, no, nope. I had to get her into the car.

Desperate times, right?  I did what every other sensible daddy would do – I threw mommy under the bus and didn’t look back.  “Mommy has a sand box,” I explained.  Claire looked doubtful, guessing rightly that she stood a much better chance convincing daddy to let her play in the cold, wet, sand.  “I will tell mommy that you want to play in the sandbox when we get there.”  I was hopeful that I was getting through to her.  “Peas” she corrected me.  I nodded, “I will ask mommy to PLEASE let you play in the sandbox.”  She nodded and went happily to my car.

Tags: Twins