The other night at dinner Abby told us about a boy at school who keeps asking her if she'll go out with him "and it's starting to get on her nerves." (her words-not mine;) I glanced over at John to see his reaction and sure enough his jaw was clenched tightly and his creases on his forehead were more pronounced then ever. Clearly he was not okay with this news, but since he wasn't offering any advice I figured I would. So, I simply told Abby that the next time that he asked her out she should just look straight at him and say "DREAM ON" and then simply walk away.
I don't know, I thought that would have been the perfect way to handle it? John however didn't like my suggestion and so finally he piped in with his own advice:
"Abby dont' say that (obviously referring to my suggestion with copious amounts of disdain). Look. All you have to say to that little punk if he asks you out again is this- "My Dad says that you have to stay away from me-or you'll have HIM to deal with! And if he has to make you stay away from me- he will. So, get lost!"
Oh sure, that's much better then my suggestion. For a moment I stared at John trying to determine if he was joking or not.
He wasn't Joking.
There are few things that really get John going, and even fewer times when I've actually seen him mad, but you should have heard the way he went on about this kid (who neither of us know) as though he'd just pulled into our driveway and honked the horn or something. I mean really. It's grade 2!! I hardly think its time to go into scary over- protective Dad mode already. Is it?
Fortunately last night during our walk (while at our
"Secret Tree"), Abby told me that she had simply told
that boy that she "was not allowed to be his girlfriend until she is 16."
Nice solid concise answer Abby. Well done. Problem solved.
Though, I don't think that particular kid has a hope in "heck" of getting past John now.
Not even 8 years from now. Not EVER for that matter. ;)
Speaking of crazy, over - protective Fathers. This experience reminded me a lot of my own Dad who happened to be a private investigator during part of my childhood. At one point, as I reached my grade 12 year, he presented me with a letter titled "Ten rules for Dating my Daughter". It was his intention that each and every boy who even tried to talk to me, familiarize himself with my Dad's simple list of Rules first.
Luckily, I was by far taller then all the guys my age. And I weighed a mere 80 lbs. And had braces. And a perm. And ran a deficit in the personality department. So naturally....I never really had to distribute one of those embarrassing letters. (I consider it one of those "Tender Mercies" in life.)
Needless to say, my Dad had plenty of copies floating around. You know...just in case!
(I'm glad now that I saved a copy;)
*********
Ten Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter
by: my Dad Randy
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk - you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two: If you cannot keep your hands off my daughter, I will remove them.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. My daughter can not date an idiot.
Rule Four: sorry ...can't post rule number 4. Totally not appropriate;)
Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me. However, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make YOU cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway waiting for my daughter to appear, and more then an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer then painting the Gold Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is dancing, hand holding or happiness. Movies with a strong romantic theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dim witted has been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. The moment you are late, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car. There is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Thank you.
Signed... Randy
aka: (in my opinion)- The BEST DAD EVER!!!