Day 769 - Dancing Fool

After a long day at work, I usually rush home so I can see the kids before they go to bed. Yesterday, when I returned home I saw the sight of Lisa, Emma, and Andrew sitting on the couch watching Dancing With the Stars. I don't understand the huge appeal of this show because there's so little at stake. Is it really necessary to support a washed up b-list star to win a trophy that has no value at all? The true prize of the show is that a Willie Ames-like celebrity can earn a paycheck for a maximum of thirteen weeks.

Anyway, when I got home the kids were too entranced by the fancy footwork of Aaron Carter to give me a second of their time. Quite literally, when I said hello to the kids all that they did was turn their heads in unison towards me, then turned their heads back to Carrie Ann Inaba embarrassing Japanese people across America for another week.

I was annoyed that the kids ignored me, so I went up to the couch and demanded their attention.

"Daddy's home! Don't you want to say hi to me?" I pleaded.

The kids again turned towards me and with a touch of mockery mumbled, "...hi..."

Well that did it. I was determined to make the kids respect me. And what better way to earn respect than to dance for it.

I started to wave my legs and arms wildly in front of the kids. I did some fancy footwork and even jumped up and down a few times. The kids began to look at me! It was working! My dancing made my kids' hearts open up for their desperate whore of a Daddy. They love me! They really love me!

And then Emma ruined the party. She glared at me, waved one arm in the air, and shouted, "Stop! Stop Dada! Stop Dada!" And then turned her attention towards Bruno Tonioli dry humping Len Goodman's arm.

Maybe it was a mistake. I did a box step.

"Stop Dada! Stop Dada! Stop!" commanded Emma.

Nope. Not a mistake.

I felt slightly embarrassed and defeated that my two year old daughter was telling her goofy father to stop dancing. I felt even more embarrassed and defeated that Lisa was rolling on the sofa laughing at me. And where was Andrew in all of this? I suppose he was the only mature one in all of this sitting on the sofa...picking his nose...and sitting in his poop.