"Don't Stand So Close To Me" - Sting

So, I'm tucking in Thunderchild the other night and, as usual, we have a quick chat.  I mention to her how nice it was to see the smile go from ear to ear that morning.  You see, her school (the best in South Africa) offers hockey as a subject - how cool is that!  That day she had Hockey Academy again and was excited as always:  put a hockey stick in that child's hands and she becomes a different person.  Shame, she was ready much earlier than usual and was already waiting outside for her mother to take her to school.


I mentioned all of this to her and she said I mustn't make a big deal of it.  How can one not?  Which parent would not be happy with a bouncing, sunny and happy child?  She had a spring in her step that day.  I then ask a bit about her day and what happened and I get told:  "Don't worry.  You don't need to know".  That hit me.  I'm desperately trying to keep the channels of communication open and she blows me off.  Then she dropped the bombshell (I get a feeling this had been coming for while now):  I must please not rub her back in the morning and sing to her before she wakes up.  I've been doing this for the past 10 years, and NOW she wants to stop.  So, I'm hurting a little at the moment.


Had a chat with her mother this morning about it and she says I must just accept it.  TC might be going through a difficult time (apparently it's worse for girls) but she'll be OK in a few years.  "A FEW YEARS!!!!", my brain screamed.  "But she still loves you", says the wife.  I guess I should not complain.  I am now not to push any issue or topic, I get told, but should wait for it to come from her side.  That means that I had better be available when it arrives.


Oh well, such is the life of a parent of a teenager.


Take care TC.  Mommy and Daddy love you very much.

Thunderchild and the Masked Crusader

“Dad,” she says as I enter the room, “I need to talk to you”.  Immediately I’m on my guard.  WTF?  What happened?  When?  What’s the problem? You know, all those strange thoughts that go through a parent’s mind when their child wants to “talk”.

“OK, tell me.  What’s up?” I say, expecting something bad.

She looks me straight in the face and says sternly,

.

.

.

“I’m Batman!”

Where do these children get these ideas from lately?  It seems as if the older she becomes, the wittier she gets.  She is so quick lately.  She pulls, and catches, her mother with the same trick.  However, “mommy dearest” decides to get her back.

So, a day or so ago they’re on their way to school again.  “TC, I need to talk to you”.  Now, I need to explain something about Thunderchild.  If you say these words to her she immediately becomes worried and withdraws a little.  “But I need you to relax first”, her mother continues.

A few minutes later, “Are you relaxed yet?  Can I talk to you?”.

“Yeesssss???” TC says, a little fearful.

Straight faced mom turns to her and says those immortal words … “I’m Batman!”

Gotcha!

Charity the Stripper

So, Thunderchild has this Halloween bowl into which coins are deposited each time she lets rip with a few choice phrases that might be seen to be inappropriate in polite company.  But, as mentioned, this is a bowl, so it’s easy to take coins out again.

The other day as she’s getting into the car for her mother to take her to school I say to her, “Stop taking money out of the bowl and then putting it back again.  You should give the money to charity.”

“Charity?”, the 14-year old asks, “Is that the stripper you keep emailing be about?”.  And with that her mom totally packs up laughing and they’re off to school, leaving me standing there wondering what just happened.  I think I got nailed, big time!

Thunderchild and the Aura

OK, so there we were, Thunderchild and I on the way to school.  Her mother is off for a few days and it’s my privilege to take her to school.  First we need to decide which radio station to listen to.  I enjoy a talk radio and she a more popular music kind of station – we “settle” on the latter (which actually means I lost the argument).

We’re halfway to school and some competition comes over the waves about “good advice”.  They ask questions about movies that provided some of these.  The contestant this particular morning happens to be some blonde that seems to have just woken up – she giggles.

First question is about something said by Yoda from Star Wars (the sentence construction was all turned around).  Blondie fluffs it totally, and giggles.  A bit of prodding and elimination of the other answers by the DJ and she manages to guess the correct answer, sheer luck.  More giggles.  Daddy is starting to lose it, heart rate goes up.

Next question.  “Which lycra-clad superhero that does not suffer from arachnophobia said….”.  Who cares about the rest of the question.  You should have guessed it by now.  SPIDERMAN!!!

Giggle.  Blah, blah.  “Wrong answer”, says the DJ and thankfully cuts her off before she can giggle again.  I let loose and have a go at that blonde.  TC tries to stay with me, but perhaps I took it too far and she gets a little irritated with me.

A minute or so later we’re at the school (did I say which school she goes to?  Yes, the best one in the country), she turns around to look at me and says:  “Your aura is all messed up.”.  And before I can say anything, she disappears into the school grounds, her words still lingering …

Thunderchild's 14th Birthday

My darling, Thunderchild you’re 14 today.  A very happy birthday from a daddy that loves you very much.

Actually, your birthday started last night when your sister and her boyfriend brought you some presents.  It was such a joy watching you open the presents, especially the one that had the portable hard drive in it – the smile went around the face.  I know how long you’ve wanted one of those to store your movies on.  Now you do.  Of course, Emo needed to annex one of the pieces of paper for herself to lie on – weird kitty that one.  You gave your presents the most unique name I have ever heard:  “Cool Random Junk”, later referred to as “Awesome Random Junk”.

This morning I was the fortunate one to wake you up and sing “Happy Birthday” to you, along with all the other songs – couldn’t start the day off better than that.  I took you to the party shop this morning because, as always, you were thinking of other people.  You went and bought a whole lot of key chains for your friends for their birthdays and what not.  Proud of you TC.  Then, some totally random lady just walked up to you and gave you a hug and asked how old you were.  When she heard it was your birthday she mentioned that it was her 22-year old son’s birthday today as well.  I still don’t know what to make of that incident, but I’m sure we’ll find out some time in the future (connecting the dots…)

Lunch today was so cool with the family:  it was great having everyone there.  You also received some more presents from the rest of us (more CRJ).  I took the most amazing shots this afternoon of you, your mother, sister and the rest.  Just realized now that there were none of me, but that’s OK because my love is in the shots of you.

There was one that so totally captured you:  the way you look, hold your pose etc.  It seems odd now, but the last year or so I’ve been able to capture the essence of TC.  These shots go deeper than the skin:  they reach down to the very atoms of your soul.  Maybe you need to love someone very much to be able to get these.

Anyway, you’re back now from your sojourn with your sister and her boyfriend to Randburg, nogal.  Went to play putt-putt.  Glad you’re back safely, lying there on the couch with one of my Springbok T-shirts on.

Sleep tight, child of the storm.  Daddy loves you very much.

Colourless Daddy

Thunderchild walks into the bedroom, hanging her shoulders and head so that the hair covers her face.

“What’s wrong?” asks her mother.

“My daddy is colourless”, she replies.

…wavy lines…screen blurs…scroll back a few hours.

15h51.  TC calls me at work.

“Daddy, is your email still x@y.z?”  “Yes, or you could use me work email…Why?”  

“I need you to print something for me, please.  But I need 5 copies.”  “OK, sure.  Send it” I reply.

“OK, just wait.  Wait. Wait.  It’s on its way”, she informs me.

“Where did you send it to?”

“You work email”

“OK, got it.  I’ll print it and bring it home.  See you just now. Bye”

I open the document and click “Print”.  It prints one copy and I make 4 photostats of it (she said she wanted 5!).  Put on the desk so that I don’t forget it when I leave the office (I have a tendency to forget documents at work when I go home…).

Get home a short while later and TC comes running down the stairs to greet me.  I know what’s coming.  She goes to the other side of the lounge and waits for me to get ready.  I strike the pose – it’s very similar to the inside center waiting for the fly-half to pass the ball in rugby – I’ve been catching her like ever since she was a “certain” height.  She comes running at me, jumps and I have to catch her.  I’ve learnt by now not to try and catch her straight on as she’ll flatten me.  Just catch her from the side and swing – that works.

“Did you bring my documents?”

“Yes”

“All five copies?”

“Yes”

She eagerly takes a look at the documents to see how they came out.

“They’re colourless.”

You see, the default printer setting at work is to print in greyscale, not colour.  Somehow the colour thing did not get through to me. 

… wavy lines … forward a few a few hours

And that is why I was referred to as “Colourless Dad” for most of Thursday evening.  Later on she revised the document, put it down on my PC and told me to print it in colour for her.  I’ll do that just after this post.

She didn’t say I must print 5 copies, did she?

The hungry thunderbolt

It’s 6h31.  Time to go to school.

“I’m hungry”, Thunderchild says.  This just after she entered the kitchen and proclaimed “My school shoes are missing”.  I had just found them in her cupboard and brought them to her, which she promptly put on by squeezing her feet into them without first loosening the straps.

Back to the food.  “There are pampoenkoekies (pumpkin fritters)”, the wife says.  “No, it’s too late.  There’s no time”.  “Yes there is,” I say and get going.  TC and her mom head for the car so long.

I get the food from the fridge, take out the gravy that comes with it, punch a few holes and into the microwave for 2 minutes.  While that’s going (and I can hear the gate opening so that the car get out), I get serviettes, a fork to eat with and a bag in which to put everything.  Open the gravy.  Ping!  Food is done.

I put the food into a lunch box, add the gravy (the gate is starting to close by now!!!), grab everything else and run to the car.  TC had already opened the window and was in “receiving mode”.  “Thank you.  Love you Daddy.  Bye”.  I make it back before the gate finally closes on me.  All this in 4 minutes.  The wife and TC are gone, off to school.

And tonight she has a sleepover, so it’s going to be noisy.  Will have to read a book or something.

Good luck, TC.  Have a nice day.