Occupo pardus!

There used to be a concept called "quality time" with your kids. It was popular in the early 90's. I remember this because my Dad often invited me for it in my early teens.

I remember it well because for Dad it seemed "quality time" meant barking my knuckles doing some menial work that was too depressing for him to do alone. Like dig a hole in the backyard looking for the sewer exit from the house. This was to discover his estimate to be wrong by 30 feet only after I had dug a 10 foot hole in the yard.

As a father myself I try to have what would be termed "Positive Memorable Situations" at least once a month with my two young daughters. I think it's important that they develop a strong connection with their father. It's also so my wife doesn't warp them too much.

The main trouble is you can't usually plan or predict these teachable, impressionable moments. You just have to roll with the moment. Perhaps if some Dad successfully plans time with his kids he can let me know the secret. I'm sure it has to do with using the calendar and writing.

So today, my wife and I and my younger daughter arrived home together. The older child was at an activity for the day, a perfect opportunity for 'bonding'.

My wife did something odd as she was removing her wallet and keys from her person. She began to do what could be best described as a personal cancer check of the lower organs, but while fully clothed. She must have caught my "what the mercy are you doing" look as she said:

"There is a hole in these pants. Right here." Gesturing to the location she sought to verify the said wardrobe defect from both sides.

In an instant of cosmic alignment my younger daughter and I both mimicked my wife, only with looks of consternation to match some trying to taste test which motor oil is synthetic.

And that was the magic moment where we connected as father and daughter. We simultaneously pulled our underwear up to our belly buttons and poking fingers at our own midsections. It was classless but fun.

I'm sure that I managed to accomplish the triple task of connecting with my daughter, loosing a little of her remaining respect for me as an authority figure, and ensuring my wife will treat me with the same intellectual fortitude that I displayed in that moment. I'll remember it as the time in the porch that my younger daughter and I gave ourselves front wedgies.

Maybe I can coin a new term for Parent/Child bonding: Occupo pardus!