The New Daddy

Today was just too disturbing and/or funny not to blog about. Sooo Starling and I took the kids to Louisiana to look at a little Maxima that Starling wanted to flip. He decided the car’s ailments were within his expertise, so he purchased it and was driving it home. He pulled over on the interstate to clean his windshield so he could see. (It was covered in white shoe polish saying ‘for sale’ and blab la). I pulled over behind Starling since I’m not brave enough to drive home without following him. (BEcause I still occasionally get lost driving to Petal).

Brooklyn was extremely fearful for her father’s safety. Cars were driving by him and she was about to have a panic attack. Finally, Starling finished his window washing, opened his car and ZOOM! An 18-wheeler passed.

“MOMMAY! Did DADDY just get runned over by a CAR?!” I was only half paying attention, using the moment of being parked to return a cuzillion text messages.

“No, honey.”

Well we continued on the road, singing “If You’re Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands,” “Hi, My Name is Joe,” “Rudolph,” “Jingle Bells,” etc. Brooklyn was belting out the words with gusto and Brighton couldn’t stop giggling and shouting Hooo-Waaa, throwing his hands in the air even though we were long done with “Shout Hurray!”- that being part of the FIRST song we sang. (Better slow than never I say).

Brighton let out a soft Hurrah, then slumped over in his car seat unconscious. I turned my mirror to Brooklyn, who moments earlier had been ecstatic and merrily singing. I noticed her face was scrunched up in thought and she looked rather melancholy.

“What’s up, Brooklyn?” I asked her.

“Well, Daddy got runned over by a car and so that I am sad. But, well… I’m not crying. But my daddy is just runned over right now.”

 Bewildered at her little comment, I ask, “He got run over? Well where is he?”

“Well, just- he is gone. He got runned over by a car to go live with Jesus and that he’s not okay. He’s just gone.”

“How awful! You don’t seem too upset. What are we going to do without our Daddy?”

This perplexed her greatly. But finally she sighed.

“Well. But we have to go to Wal-Mert to get a new Daddy.”

My eyes bulged and I suppressed a giggle.

“What kind of Daddy will we get at Wal-Mart?”

“Well, I’ll just have to ask one of my friends at Wal-Mert to let me have their Daddy.”

“Which friend’s Daddy do you want to be your new Daddy?”

She thought long and hard.

“Well, I’m just going to ask Alayna’s Daddy to be my new Daddy.” (Alayna is Brooklyn’s cousin. Her daddy, Eric, is about as close to a clone of Starling as you can get). I tried not to cackle.

“Can you just call Eric so I can ask him that my Daddy got runned over and he can be my new Daddy?”

I called STARLING and said, “Hey- Brooklyn’s DADDY got hit by a car and she wants to ask uncle ERIC a question.” Giggling I handed the phone to Brooklyn. Not once did she consider the person on the other line to be her ACTUAL dad. Nope; she was talking to Eric and that was that. She told him ALL about how her daddy got “runned” over and that “she was sad but NOPE- not crying.”

Starling said, “Well, your Daddy can get fixed in the hospital and…”

Her face fell and she slung the phone at me. “Uncle Eric doesn’t WANT to be my new daddy.”

I hung up with Starling and said, “Don’t you want Daddy to get better?”

Brooklyn's arms flung to her sides and she yelled utterly destraught, “YES! I do want him to be my Daddy and get better. BUT HE CAN’T! He GOT. runned OVER. by a CAR!” As in DUH mom! Are you an idiot or are you an idiot??

She fell asleep and I had to meet someone at The Barn to sell something for $75 and then fill up my van at the gas station for $65. (I love making that dough). I had a meeting at the church, so I drug two sleeping kids out of the van and made them walk.

When I finally got Brooklyn to walk KIND of in the right direction, more TOWARDS the church and not toward the random field to the side, I footballed Brighton under my arm and we made our way through the doors. Every person that Brooklyn knows had to hear about her daddy getting hit by a car. People's reactions varied, but they were ALL video worthy. Wide eyes, dropped mouth, immediate gasp and turn to me. (My smirk was probably confusing to them).

Someone asked her, “Well where did he go?”

Exasperated, she proclaimed, “We can’t FIND our FRICKIN’ Daddy ANYWHERE!” Yikes! I’ve never heard her say freakin before and it sounded AWFUL coming out of those tiny, innocent lips. And that is a SENTENCE that’s exited my mouth like a thousand times. Yes, I am ALWAYS losing my husband. WHEN we are both home.

Then Eric came through the church doors and, of course, Brooklyn thought she’d called him on my phone. He was clueless. And it was a great interaction of his niece, out of the BLUE, asking him AGAIN to be her new daddy.

She was, no other way to put it, SHOCKED to walk into our house and see her daddy sitting at the computer. She just stood there. Staring. BUT, as soon as Starling spoke to her, she went into a ninety to nothing recount of her time at church and showed him her “treasure” box that she found that she’d left. NOOOO comment about, “OH GOOD! You’re alive!”

Later she climbed on his lap and said, “I really missed you while you were DIED.” 

I’m glad to know parents are so dispensable. I wonder how much they run at “Wal-mert.” I’d be interested in purchasing a parent that likes cooking.