I love my daddy. He’s taught me a million things; he taught me how to build forts (I’m really awesome at it, just ask the kids i babysit), he taught me who won the Rose Bowl in 1902 (Michigan) and, most importantly, he taught me not to believe everything I hear. How did he do this? He told me what were probably some of the most entertaining lies a father can tell.
- “Yep, Dace. Obese means beautiful, smart, and funny. Your teacher will love it if call her that!”
Thank goodness Anna nipped this one in the bud, or I would have been in second grade calling teachers obese left and right. Lord knows I loved a good unusual vocab word; I’d have thought the strange looks were just those uneducated folks wondering what kind of wonderful complement I had bestowed upon Mrs. Wells. By the way, she was a pretty fit lady.
- “We do have a favorite child, Dacey. His name is Johnny. No, no. You’ve never met him.”
My dad used to tell us stories before bed. We took these as fact. They included everything from tiny people living in our house to “the boy with popsicle feet.” Many times, these stories included our “brother,” Johnny. There was much speculation as to the reason for Johnny’s absence in our everyday lives; Eventually, my brother decided that Johnny had probably “shot a panda and is now in jail for life.” Yep, don’t ever say the Orrs don’t have great imaginations! It’s a shame Johnny never makes it into the Christmas card pic, huh?
- “You couldn’t find that Barbie shoe, because (OOPS!) it was in my nose.”
This won’t come as a shock to, well, anyone, but I cried alot as a child. Sometimes I cried at dinner if my meal wasn’t as good as I thought it would be. I cried if someone made fun of my glasses or used a curse word. I REALLY cried when I lost something. Most of the time, my “lost” items were in pretty obvious spots (I didn’t earn the name “Spacey Dacey” from nowhere) and my dad must have found them somewhat quickly. Then, he would make a huge production out of coming up to me and sneezing them out.
“Ahhhh AHHHHHH AHHHHH CHOOOOOOOOOO! Oh, Dacey, LOOK! Here it is! It must have just been in my nose this whooole time!”
Good ol’ Summey got what he deserved for this one, though. Every time I lost something for a few years, I would come up to him sniffling and crying and pleading with him to look in his nose. Not only was this likely very annoying, I imagine it got somewhat offensive when, instead of tiny Barbie shoes and accessories, I decided his nose was large enough to fit Beanie Babies. Ouch, dad. Sorry about that.
- “This is Daddy Juice. And these are Daddy Chips.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is a clever ploy to keep your children away from your game-day snacks and beverages. I believe the street-names for these substances to be “Bud Heavy” and “Doritos.” Sorry daddy dearest, but I’m twenty-one and have easily gained quite the freshman fifteen: I know beer and Doritos when I see them.
“Duke is for losers and weenies.”This was the little line my dad would make me say at parties and gatherings from the time I learned to talk. Turns out, this wasn’t a lie. Duke really is “for losers and weenies.” It must suck to be pale, have a terrible haircut, and live on the lame side of town, huh?