Conversations With My Daughter
Zoe and I are talking about school when she mentions that there’s a new staff member in her after school program.
Me: Is he nice?
Zoe: Yeah, he’s cool. I like him.
Me: What’s his name?
Zoe: Marco.
Me: Polo!
Zoe looks at me, confused.
Me: What’s his name?
Zoe: Marco.
Me: Polo!
Zoe scowls at me.
Me: What’s his name?
Zoe: Dad! I already told you!
Me: I know. What’s his name again?
Zoe: Marco!
Me: Polo!!
Zoe: (Angry now) Dad!!!
Me: (Innocent) What???
Zoe: You keep asking me what his name is and then when I tell you you keep saying polo!
Me: You’re right, I’m sorry. Is it annoying you? I’m sorry.
Zoe: Just stop it, Dad!
Me: I will. I’m sorry.
A moment passes.
Me: What’s his name again?
Zoe: (Warning) Da-a-ad…
Me: What? I just want to know what his name is. I forgot.
Zoe: No.
Me: No, really, I forgot. Just tell me.
Zoe: Da-a-a-d!!!
Me: No, seriously, I forgot. Come on, just tell me. Please?
Zoe: No.
Me: Okay, I’m just going to call him Picklehead the next time I see him because I don’t remember his name. And I’ll say you told me that’s what his name was.
Zoe: Dad!!!
Me: So Picklehead’s nice, is he? Does he play with the kids?
Zoe: Dad!
Me: What? You said his name is Picklehead!
Zoe: I did not! It’s Marco, Dad, you know it is!
Me: What is it?
Zoe: MARCO!!!
Me: POLO!!!!
Zoe: Da-a-a-a-a-a-a-ad!!!!
My kid is so gonna hate me by the time she hits puberty.