As you may remember, I’ve been trying to acquire a good nickname for myself with the kids. I’m not alone in this problem. J has one that she’s not terribly happy about, either. The other night, I may have finally made some progress.

You see, over the past several months I’ve been working hard on developing “Daddy Fantastico”. Every time we’re playing a name game, where we create names for ourselves, I always include “Daddy Fantastico” for myself. I say it in a deep booming voice (or as close as I can come) and throw my hands over my head.

Unfortunately, all that has gotten me is laughing. I like to think they’re laughing with me.

The other night the three of us were playing on the swings in the backyard. We have a lot of games we play back there, many of which involve me pretending to be various scary creatures: alligators, pirates, etc. They either yell and run away – or defeat me through some clever application of their imagination.

This time they weren’t in the mood for those games. Instead, they started coming up with other things for me to be.

“You’re a statue!”

“No, you’re a bush!”

“You’re a tree!”

As you’ve probably noticed, none of these suggestions involve me moving. I like playing as much as the nice guy. I’m not so keen on standing motionless, though. So after the tree suggestion, I spoke up. “Hey, I want to be able to move!”

“Okay! You’re a moving statue!”

Okay, that one was a little better. At least I could do the Mr. Roboto moves that I learned a couple decades ago.

Unfortunately, they weren’t impressed. “No, no! You’re a bush!”

That was enough for me. “No, I’m just daddy.” I said.

N pointed at me. “No, you’re a statue!”

I swooped down on him, caught him around his belly and spun around a couple times. This is a great move, by the way. Hold the little tot firmly around the middle with your arms under his armpits and your hands clasped over his belly (with him facing away). Then you just spin, holding your arms straight(ish) out in front of you. Don’t go too fast and only go around a couple times. Otherwise, you’ll both end up way too dizzy.

“No, I’m just daddy” I said, putting him down.

He laughed, still a little dizzy, and, throwing his hands up over his head, shouted “Nah, you’re Daddy Fantastico!”

“Daddy Fantastico!” I shouted, throwing my hands up.

His brother ran over for a spin, and I spent the next ten minutes or so spinning them around.

It’s good to be the daddy.

Ah, excuse me, I meant to say that it’s good to be the Daddy Fantastico!