The parenting sea saw

I love my daughter to the death - she is my princess for sure. She's quite the independent little heiffer too. She just goes on and does her own thing. This part may not surprise you: JACK is a pretty strict daddy. I mean, I refuse to repeat myself. I say what you need to do and if you don't do it - the warning is in the form of me in your face asking, "Did you not hear what I said?" That's when the fear-of-God face happens. We're getting there.

My daughter has always been bright - just brilliant. Her thought processes amaze me. But lately, I've had to adjust to her growing up - learning new things at school. And I am impressed that I've held it together as well as I have. Consider:

• I pick her up from daycare, having not seen the kids for 9 days. It's great when I see them after being out of town that long. Anyway, when we get outside, she says, "Daddy, Gregory gets on my nerves." I say, "well, boys can be like that." She responds, "but he gets on my friggin' nerves!"

Now, the old JACK would've lunged at her and popped her in the mouth. Seriously, that's a little too close to the real thing. No can do. But the new JACK looks at her sternly and asks, "excuse me?!?"

• My daughter tells me, "oh, I can say that now."

The new JACK says, "oh no you can't." And then she comes WIT it. "Daddy, I'm six years old now. I'm in first grade. I can say anything I want."

I am so proud of myself; she was not hospitalized. but *sigh* I have a lot of work to do with this little one.

.. and don't get me started on her TV addiction and her not understanding that now that it's the school year, the TV off limits. and especially don't get me started on the time she was on punishment and there was no TV for her at her moms house, but she went and turned the TV on anyway and balled her eyes out when she got caught because, as she told her mom, "I didn't think you would know!" Don't get me started on those things.

For now - let me just tell you what was going on ON THE INSIDE, where the old JACK was: hell the mother-fuck no, you can't say shit around this here mother fucker! The only bitch around here can say anything they want is ME, carajo! Now go do your god damn homework before I beat the shit out you.

****

Parenting has its ups and downs. That up there happened yesterday. This morning, she bestills my heart with the most interesting question I've gotten this week (and let me tell you, these mother fuckers at work are ALWAYS calling to ask me questions! - ugh!)

The mind of a child amazes me. How children process information is ingenuity at its finest and I sometimes wonder what the hell happens to us that we begin to process information like cave rats when we're adults. Like, trickle down theory ... or hearing a President say, "that's the man who tried to kill my daddy!" and then raising your fists to agree to fight a war against a country that had nothing to do with why you're mad. SMH

Anyway, I digress. My daughter knows she's bi-racial. As a matter of fact, according to her, I have White skin and she has Brown skin. Culture isn't quite an issue to her yet, but this morning she wants to know which half of her is Puerto Rican and which half of her is Bajan. She's in the back seat waving her hands across her lap, mimicing a splitting of her body in two. "Is THIS from Puerto Rico," she asks pointing to her lap. "Or is it THIS way?" she asks, waving her fingers towards her body, seemingly cutting it in half the long way.

I promise you I wanted to pull over the car, jump back there and squoosh her, and squeeze her, and kiss her and love on her and give her all the sugars she could stand while tickling her, both of us laughing up to the fabric ceiling. Just the cutest thing.

So, I explain to her that she is both Puerto Rican and Bajan mixed together. Like, you have white and you have red. And then you mix them together and then everything is pink.

"Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, daddy," she responds.

Wow - that really is my little princess. Even if she's trying to grow up. *mumbles about her growing up*

Folks, I was BORN to be a parent. I absolutely love being a daddy. A DADDY, you hear me? Not a father, not a sperm donor, not the giver of a child support check every pay day - but a DADDY. I love the ups, like when my girl wants to figure out which part of her body is from Barbados ... and I even love the downs, like when she wants to tell me that at 6 years old she can say anything she wants.

But all the downs are overshadowed by the inquisitive minds they possess. Tomorrow, it's all about my son. It's his birthday. *sigh* Fortunately, when I asked him to please stay 5 for the rest of his life he said. "well, I'll TRY ..."

So we'll see.