My cousin, Waylan, is a fabulous, funny single father and recently shared this on facebook. (He's also a fantastic pianist!)
Who's kid would have the nerve to text their dad at 12:30 am to come to their room....and then say, "Can you turn my ceiling fan on?" MINE would! Luckily, I have a sense of humor.
We're Tippetts and humor runs in our veins. Our grandfather, affectionately known as Papa, was reknown for his humor.
|Papa loved to tease his grands, like Lloyd Jr. here.|
Except for one time in the middle of the night. The family story says one of the six children called for water. Papa stumbled through the darkness to bring a glass to the child, who had the gall to whine, "But I wanted MAMA to bring it!" Papa doused the kid with the water. Wet kid, wet bed. The event was never discussed. Papa couldn't remember which child it was and the guilty culprit never confessed. Some people's sense of humor goes to sleep when they do.
|Kimberly on a happier day|
I may fall into that niche as I think back to our own wee hour stories.
A stomach bug hit one of our girls, maybe Kimberly. I recognized the sickly tone calling "Maaa-maaaa!" It's a sound denoting I'm-gonna-vomit-in-about-30-seconds. I sprinted to her bedside, grabbed the trash can by her bed just as she heaved in the darkness. I was proud that I made it in time. Proud until I heard the muffled splatter on pink carpet. Puke sounds differently hitting metal than shag. Did you know that upchuck turns brownish pink and remains so, even when you try to clean it from carpet? Guess I held the trash can a tad to her left.
My humor waned another night when daughter #2, Katy, came to our bed feeling nauseated. She'd recently gotten braces and chose a glow-in-the-dark retainer to wear at night. Sleeping, I vaguely heard her voice, "Mama. . .Mama. . .Mama. . ." When I opened my eyes, however, all I saw in the dark bedroom was this glowing mouth opening and closing, coming closer and closer to my bed, chanting "Mama. . .Mama. . .Mama!" I screamed! She screamed! Doug bolted then rolled over and went back to sleep. I'm no ghost buster so it took a recovery period before I could hold my other sick daughter's head over the toilet that scary night.
|Kimberly and I lovin' on each other, just before Kent's birth. I was tempted to crop|
this shot to exclude the top of my hairdo. . .but reality then was all about BIG HAIR!
When our son, Kent's kids hurt their toes, he calls for a Toe Truck! Humor heals too.