The Unthinkable Has Happened

It is with a heavy heart that I announce that the unthinkable has happened. No, I didn’t finally manage to blow myself. Although my goal of being able to do that is fast approaching. Unfortunately, “the unthinkable” is a sobering milestone that marked a turning point in my fatherhood. At approximately 1 p.m. Eastern Standard Time on Dec. 26, in the year of our Lord 2015, my daughter Olivia beat me in a foot race. This marked the first time one of my children legitimately beat me at anything.

I gotta be honest with you. I hate most of the activities my kids want to engage in with me. There are a select few parent/child activities that I enjoy, and most of them are competition-based. It’s occurred to me that maybe I enjoy those activities because they make me seem awesome and it just makes me feel good to win at anything, even if the cost is crushing my kids’ souls.

For instance, I enjoy playing basketball with the kids. Normally, I’ll let them build some confidence by letting them make a few shots. Then, I’ll swat one of their shots into fucking orbit, reminding them that I am running shit and that I am not that far off from being a pro athlete. They probably think I could be a pro athlete anyway, with my cat-like athleticism and my ability to create more children that I can account for at any given time.

So when Olivia challenged me to a race a few days ago, I welcomed it. I even considered eating a few hot dogs beforehand just to be a dick. Well, also because I really wanted to eat a few¬†hot dogs. I didn’t get too cocky, though, because Livi has come close to beating me before. Our last race was so close that when it became apparent that I might lose, I pulled a Bruce Jenner and turned on the afterburners to beat her by a few steps. As soon as this race started, I knew I was in trouble and that I would have to pull a Bruce Jenner yet again. Sadly, it did not work. So now I have to pull a Caitlyn Jenner and show up at Livi’s school dressed like a poorly put-together woman to embarrass her for beating me.

Livi showed a lot of class in victory, which is more than I can ever say for myself. Most of my victories over the kids are punctuated with me ripping off my shirt and pounding on my chest like a gorilla that just got tricked out of his lunch by an asshole zoologist. I have a feeling this is the start of many victories for her over me. The same day she won the race, she swung across all of the monkey bars in seconds. I honestly don’t know if I could do the same, so I ran home and sent an anonymous email to homeland security to say there is a kid training for ISIS on the playground.

As much as the loss stung for me, I hope Olivia continues to excel at whatever she tries. As for me, I’ll be okay. I’ve already moved on. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run up to Mikey’s room before he goes to bed for the night. I’m hanging our last tic-tac-toe game, which I had framed, above his bed, with my three winning “X’s” outlined in neon lighting. Hopefully, it will be the last fucking thing he sees before he drifts off into a peaceful dreamland, which is the only place that dude can even fathom beating me at anything for the foreseeable future.

I’m writing for and have a recurring role in a new Comedy Central web series called Delco Proper. Like the Facebook page for Delco Proper here!

 

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