Donuts with Dad
Jim Dayton
Donuts with Dad
by
Jim Dayton
PUBLISHED BY:
Donuts with Dad
Copyright 2011 by Jim Dayton
To Maura
Donuts with Dad
I think I was more excited about November seventeenth than Jae. I had it on my calendar a full month in advance and I never put anything on my calendar a month in advance… unless my job depended on it. Even then, I question the person who has to plan for anything that far in the future. I guess I was even a bit surprised that the school had sent out the invitations that early. On a light green paper it read, Donuts with Dad. The rest of the message was irrelevant. This was a fatherhood milestone. It was my first opportunity to escort my little girl to class and see how she really behaved with her classmates and teacher. Anna and I had always imagined Jae acting as she did at home while she was at school, which made us instantly embarrassed. Every parent-teacher conference seemed to commence with our sincerest apologies until the teacher reassured us that Jae was a perfect angel who simply chose when she was done paying attention. And when that moment came, she didn’t act out. No. Instead, she simply stopped doing what she was asked and sat there, singing to herself or staring at the other children. We were always told that her schoolwork never suffered and, in fact, she was progressing slightly ahead of the others. Anna and I always left happy. But as soon as we were home and Jae was misbehaving, our fears resurfaced.
Anna and I would remind each other that Jae was only five and her behavior was no worse than any other five year-old. But she was our first child, and with that honor came a level of social ineptitude. She had no one to teach her how to act around the other children. To make matters worse, she had inherited her father’s physique. She was built like a linebacker. Other parents in the neighborhood were constantly mistaking her for a seven year-old and treated her as if she were retarded. First impressions from other children were mixed. Some thought she was just being funny while others were cruel, completely ignoring her or outright telling her she couldn’t play with them.
She cried a lot the summer of her fifth birthday. She was definitely old enough to understand that the other children were being mean. But what do you do? I could tell the other parents how their children were behaving. But parents whose children act like assholes are generally assholes. And I’d outgrown giving the neighborhood bullies a public beating. So, it quickly became the summer of consoling my daughter by being the father that played outside with all the neighborhood kids, the “fun” dad. After being beaned with a dodge ball, whiffle ball and soccer ball, the cruel kids quickly learned Jae’s dad didn’t jerk around. Make his daughter cry and sooner or later you’d have a ball sized bruise in the name of neighborhood sport. And the other parents said nothing. It was simply “part of the game.”
The week leading up to the seventeenth was spent counting down the days until “Daddy comes to school.” Jae and I would talk about it every night after her bedtime story.
“Four more days until Daddy comes to school, Jae.”
She would smile, “Will we have donuts and juice?”
“I hope so.”
She giggled.
The next morning she would inform Anna of the details of our conversation.
“Daddy said we are going to have donuts and juice in four days… four days, mama!”
“Really, is that what your father said?” Anna liked to tease Jae by making her question anything I may have told her.
On our way to school, Jae would ask, “Mama didn’t know you told me that we will have donuts and juice in four days. We will, won’t we, daddy? Maybe I should ask Mrs. Faire.”
“Maybe you should.” I could play Anna’s game and confuse the poor child.
Three days passed. Jae and I replayed the conversation every night. And every morning Anna and I messed with her head. Every afternoon, the thought of Jae asking her teacher for verification of the Donuts with Dad menu made me laugh. I could almost see Mrs. Faire smiling and answering the question, all the while cursing Anna and me under her breath. It was funny… and worth every second of embarrassment I would suffer when I visited Jae’s class.
The night of the sixteenth brought a different question.
“Daddy, are you coming to school tomorrow?” Jae looked a little worried.
“Of course I am. Why would you think I wasn’t coming?”
“Cal’s daddy isn’t coming.”
I was thinking, yeah, so. But I said, “Really, why not?”
“I think he’s allergic to donuts.”
“I doubt that. Maybe he’s just scared of kindergarteners. Or, more likely, he’s scared of… the room mothers,” I said in my scariest voice.
Jae giggled, “He’s not scared of the room mothers.”
“I’m scared of the room mothers,” I said.
Jae laughed.
“Now, go to bed so we can wake up and get some donuts!” I made a funny face and blew her kisses as I closed her door.
