Oh snap!

At work this morning, we were sharing information about the type of viewers who are our core audience. For the most part, they are affluent, white, and educated and between 35 and 55.

No one had ever shared this with me, so I said, "Basically our core viewers are people like me."

"Except for the wealthy part, yes" replied my anchor.

Yikes!

Rachel and I went to lunch together today. At one point, I returned to the drink dispenser to refill my lemonade. Rachel came with me.

There was a woman who was standing in front of the cash register who was sporting what were at least 3-inch heels.

As we approached, Rachel proclaimed loudly, "Mommy doesn't like those!"

I yanked her arm to the drink machine and wished I could crawl into it for a minute or two.

Heck on Wheels!

Rachel and Atlanta Thrasher Goalie Johan Hedberg

Rachel and Caroline at Purim

Love Triangle

Unorthodox Teeth Brushing

The Essence of Love

As we ate dinner at a sports bar/reataurant last night, Rachel said she needed to go to the bathroom. I went with her.

This time, she asked me to join her in the stall instead of waiting outside. She then requested I sing her a song.

I squatted down in front of her, looked into her eyes and began to sing:

You are so beautiful, to me
You are so beautiful
Can't you seeeeeee?
You're everything I hoped for
You're everything to me
You are so beautiful, to me

And I repeated it.

Her blue eyes gazed into mine, moving slightly from one to another. Her lips upturned slightly when mine did the same, as I thought how fortunate I was to be chosen to raise a little girl who brings such joy to my world.

It was a brief moment. It was a lasting moment. I'm so blessed to be Rachel's father.

Pas de Deux?

Rachel has taken ballet as an after-school elective every Wednesday this year. She just told me that her "Dance Recycle" is next Monday night. I guess that means they are not premiering any works, just performing routines that have been done before!

Son of a....Gun!

That's what is left of my innocence, crumpled in the corner.

On the drive home from school recently, 4-year-old Rachel asked my wife, "Mama, what does bitch mean?"

My wife responded it was the name for a female dog.

Naturally, we had to find out where she learned the word. We told her it wasn't a very nice word and we didn't want to hear her say it again. And we demanded to know the asshole who taught it to her!

Eventually, we got out of her that it was a classmate who we'll call Scott. Not only did "Scott" teach Rachel and her classmates the word, but he was gracious enough to teach them a song containing the word. Lovely, just lovely.

I fired off an e-mail to Rachel's teacher, but it turned out she was already aware of the situation. She made sure all the kids signed a contract that they wouldn't use it or any other bad words.

Rachel signed off at the deal, but the obvious shock value of the new word was just too intriguing to resist.

"Daddy, 'Scott' said, 'bitch.'"

"Well, Sweetheart, just because 'Scott' said that word doesn't mean you should. It's a bad word."

"That's right. You shouldn't say, 'bitch.'"

"Correct, so stop saying it!"

"Right, don't say 'bitch.'"

Now I have to admit it. I'm not the best dad when it comes to keeping a poker face. And to hear Rachel's sweet little face and voice say, "bitch", it was very difficult to prevent a smile from creasing my face. That would encourage her even more.

We prayed she wouldn't say it in front of strangers. How badly would that reflect on us as parents? And besides, when you say that word in front of strangers, you always imagine the word overmodulated, like Spinal Tap turned up to 11..."BITCH!"

It's now weeks later and Rachel still says, "You know what's a bad word?"

And we both shout, "No, don't say that word!"

Last night, in Temple of all places (of course), I had taken Rachel to the restroom and she says, out of nowhere, "Scott said, 'bitch!'"

Somewhere, G-d is laughing.

But I tell you, breaking my child of saying that word has been a real bi...uh, chore!