SHUT UP, DADDY

Last night about an hour before bedtime my wife, M.E.B. and I were hanging out in our living room as we often do during this time of day. M.E.B. was pulling a small wagon filled with a variety of knick-knacky toys around the room. I started to sing, as I often do during this time, to get M.E.B. to start dancing (Something she loves to do). A few notes into my song M.E.B. stopped pulling her wagon, looked over at me and said, “Shut Up.” Her mother and I looked at each other, astonished. Her mother told her that that wasn’t nice to say and that she should instead say, “Would you please be quiet?” M.E.B. seemed a bit confused. She paused, looked at her mother and then at me. “Shut Up, Daddy.” She said again.

Now, I should say that this isn’t the first time in my life a woman has told me to shut up. In fact, if I had a nickel for every time it’s happened throughout my life I’d be sipping margaritas on the deck of my beachfront mansion in Malibu. In many case’s “Shut Up” is the nicest thing many women have said to me. However, we certainly want M.E.B. to be respectful and kind (even to her father) so my wife, more sternly, told her that that wasn’t a nice thing to say to your daddy or anyone and that we don’t say that in this house. M.E.B. immediately perceived the seriousness in the tone of her mother’s voice and within seconds, tears gushed from her tiny brown eyes, her face became red, and a high pitched wailing came from her mouth. She ran to her mother, seeking comfort and forgiveness. I was thinking: Wait a minute; I’m the one she told to shut up. Where’s mine?

As always, my wife did a wonderful job comforting M.E.B. and explaining to her the appropriate thing to say in that situation. She then asked M.E.B. if she heard someone at the child care she goes to say that. At this point, my body tensed up, fearing that M.E.B. would respond by saying, “No, I heard daddy say it.” I must confess that I’ve used the phrase a time or two. Most often it is to know-it-all sports commentators on one of those talk radio shows or to Bill O’ Reilly when I accidentally stumble on to his prime time talk show on the Fox News Channel. Usually it’s because he’s yelling at one of his guests or repeatedly telling his viewers how “fair and balanced” he is. (Note to those who think Bill O’ Reilly is fair and balanced. If you have to tell people over and over that you’re fair and balanced, you’re usually not fair and balanced). Fortunately, M.E.B. confessed that she heard another child say it at childcare.

With M.E.B. tormented by guilt, sitting on her mother’s lap I assured her that it was okay and that I still loved her. Her mother then asked her if she wanted to go over and give daddy a hug. M.E.B. shook her head no and flashed me a face as if she was saying, “This is your fault, daddy.” The sight of my child crying, regardless of how naughty she’s been, melts my heart. I quickly reflected: Perhaps it is my fault. I was the one who was singing with a voice that would make Paula Abdul shoot me if I were to audition for American Idol. Maybe the words “Shut Up” from a two year old’s mouth was a strong sign that I should reserve future singing for the shower or when no one is around.

Eventually, M.E.B. and I made our peace and instead of singing I play the bongos for her to dance to (I do play a mean bongo).