I’m no longer a cheer dad.
Her season is over and, unless she changes her mind, Baby E has said that she doesn’t want to do it again next year. That is quite all right with me.
Not only was it expensive (we had to pay league fees, money for her uniform rental, buy her accessories like hair bows, pay admittance to get into the games that she cheered in, and admittance for her competition), but it was also incredibly time consuming. For the first couple of weeks, it wasn’t bad. Just a couple of practices during the week. Once the season started, however, it turned into three practices a week, plus a game on the weekend. On top of that, the two weekends before competition, they added an extra practice on the weekend.
It was too much. And,that’s from me, the guy who only attended games and competition. Mrs. Revis took care of all the practices (not because I didn’t want to or anything, but because practices started before I got home from work). It ran my wife ragged. She’s even more glad that Baby E has said that she doesn’t want to do it next year.
Obviously, a lot can happen between now and then. Maybe she’ll change her mind and want to cheer again. I certainly hope not. But, if she does, her daddy will be there cheering her on.
P.S. For those of you wondering, her team won the competition for her age group. Baby E will soon get a jacket that proclaims that they were the “Grand Champions” for our region.
When it comes to parenting, everyone is different. What may be right for some will be wrong for others. Despite what haters on the internet say, there is no surefire method to raising your children. We each do the best we can and pray it’s good enough.
Or, at least, that’s what I do.
I don’t know if I’ll ever really know how good of a father I am. My beautiful princess will be turning 6 next month, so I still have a long way to go, too. I suppose I’ll leave it up to my wife and daughter to be the judges on that. There aren’t many people’s opinions that mean a whole lot to me, but those two are certainly the most important. No matter what, out of everything that’s happened since she’s been born, I know for a fact that I did at least one thing right.
Every time we drive past a water tower, Baby E will say, “Look, Daddy, a water tower! That’s where the Animaniacs live!”
That’s a win, my friends. That’s a win.
My wife and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. From across the house, I hear my daughter yell, “Daddy, come here!”
I go to the kitchen, because that’s where it sounded like it came from, but she wasn’t there. I peeked around the corner and saw the bathroom light on. So, I looked in. There she was, sitting on the toilet. Was she out of tp? What else could it possibly be? I asked, “What, honey?”
That’s what she made me get up off the couch for? So she could ask me math questions while she was on the toilet? “Don’t worry about it, Baby E. Just finish what you’re doing.”
“Come on, daddy. (Grunt) What’s 2 + (Grunt) 2?”
“You don’t need to worry about what 2+2 is right now. The only number 2 you need to be worrying about is the one you’re dropping in the toilet.”
Baby E fixed me with a blank stare while I hear my wife laughing in the other room. Ah, the joys of parenthood.
A few days ago, my mother was over at my house visiting. She was sitting on the couch with my wife, while I was sitting in a computer chair next to them. We talked for a few minutes before Baby E ran up and stopped in the middle of all of us. My daughter pointed towards the kitchen and said, “Doo doo.”
The three adults looked at each other in open confusion. We are all fluent in Baby E talk, but none of us knew what she meant by that. Doo doo isn’t a phrase that we use around here. So, I ask her, “What?”
She points to the kitchen again and repeats, “Doo doo.”
We debated amongst ourselves for a few minutes on what she could possibly be talking about, but none of us had a clue. Finally, I tell her to take me to it. Baby E grabbed my finger and led me into the kitchen. She stopped in front of one of our cabinets.
She points to the cabinet and screams, “Doo doo!”
Now, I’m even more confused. The cabinet she was pointing to is the one where we keep our chips, crackers, and other assorted munchables. Was she trying to tell me what happens after eating the contents of that cabinet?
Baby E raised her arms in the universal signal for “pick me up”. I grabbed her and lifted her up in front of the cabinet. She opened the door and pulled something out. I immediately start laughing as she hands me this…
image from walmart.com