Life Lessons From Steve Winwood... and Zoey
Don't complain.
Don't say a thing out loud.
Don't let yourself open those floodgates, and they're most definitely floodgates.
Don't let that idea take root.
You're not #$%king jinxed this morning, but what on earth is happening. Was there a full moon? I didn't think so, and who knows if I even believe all that bunk. Have the heavens somehow gotten all out of wonk, or our conflicting energies banged into one another in some weird, untimely out of orbit fender bender of sorts?
Don't go there, just go with it.
Maggie's been up since the wee hours of ungodly I-don't-know, doing that I think I wanna cry but I'm not sure, so why don't you say with me thing that she can occasionally do. It's been at least a dew hours...and Zo stumbled into our room at 5:30 or 6am in bewilderment..."Daddy, I thought I had to go pee, but then I also thought I was dreaming, and then I did pee, and now I guess I understand that, uhmm, it wasn't a dream, but it was real pee, and, uhmm, my bed is wet and my bum is wet and I'm sorry. Can you help me?"
Oh my, too sweet. Of course I can.
"Are you okay? Are you upset that you had an accident," I asked.
"No," she replied quickly, "I'm not upset. It happened and...(shrug)...I guess I just have to change into new pajamas and wash my sheets...(second shrug)."
Wailing from downstairs. I look at the clock. WTF.
Don't complain about it, and don't try to figure it out. Your daughter just gave you the most timely of zen lessons ever, so pay attention to it. Don't open the can of putrid negativity. The sheets smell funky enough. Besides, has June even slept?
How long 'til the sun comes up. My God, the alarm is set to off on a half hour.
"Zoey," I ask, "can we lay down and try to sleep for a little bit. Daddy's going to feel terrible all day if he doesn't sleep a little more."
"Okay Daddy," she smiles, "we'll sleep. Come with me." She says, and takes my hand. She leads me back to my own room, crawls into bed, and promptly falls asleep beside me.
No need to get upset. Just change your pajamas, rip off the sheets, and crawl back into bed.
Lesson #349 from daughter to dad with a Steve Winwood twist. You got to roll with it.
Don't say a thing out loud.
Don't let yourself open those floodgates, and they're most definitely floodgates.
Don't let that idea take root.
You're not #$%king jinxed this morning, but what on earth is happening. Was there a full moon? I didn't think so, and who knows if I even believe all that bunk. Have the heavens somehow gotten all out of wonk, or our conflicting energies banged into one another in some weird, untimely out of orbit fender bender of sorts?
Don't go there, just go with it.
Maggie's been up since the wee hours of ungodly I-don't-know, doing that I think I wanna cry but I'm not sure, so why don't you say with me thing that she can occasionally do. It's been at least a dew hours...and Zo stumbled into our room at 5:30 or 6am in bewilderment..."Daddy, I thought I had to go pee, but then I also thought I was dreaming, and then I did pee, and now I guess I understand that, uhmm, it wasn't a dream, but it was real pee, and, uhmm, my bed is wet and my bum is wet and I'm sorry. Can you help me?"
Oh my, too sweet. Of course I can.
"Are you okay? Are you upset that you had an accident," I asked.
"No," she replied quickly, "I'm not upset. It happened and...(shrug)...I guess I just have to change into new pajamas and wash my sheets...(second shrug)."
Wailing from downstairs. I look at the clock. WTF.
Don't complain about it, and don't try to figure it out. Your daughter just gave you the most timely of zen lessons ever, so pay attention to it. Don't open the can of putrid negativity. The sheets smell funky enough. Besides, has June even slept?
How long 'til the sun comes up. My God, the alarm is set to off on a half hour.
"Zoey," I ask, "can we lay down and try to sleep for a little bit. Daddy's going to feel terrible all day if he doesn't sleep a little more."
"Okay Daddy," she smiles, "we'll sleep. Come with me." She says, and takes my hand. She leads me back to my own room, crawls into bed, and promptly falls asleep beside me.
No need to get upset. Just change your pajamas, rip off the sheets, and crawl back into bed.
Lesson #349 from daughter to dad with a Steve Winwood twist. You got to roll with it.
posted by Unknown at
7:13 AM
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