Fashion no image

Published on October 14th, 2013 | by Richard Black


The Pants Issue Revisited

One of my favorite quotes for any book or movie is a bit of dialogue is from the movie “The Way of The Gun”.

Ryan Phillipe and Benecio Del Toro are in this shitty little Mexican town and getting ready to assault a bordello. The two of them scope out the situation and Benicio turns to Ryan and asks, “so what’s the plan?”

“I think a plan is just a list of things to go wrong,” is Ryan’s response.

I had so many plans for today. I’d take Darcy to school, go for a quick jog and a barf, rehydrate and then finish staining a set of chairs I’d stripped a year ago, stained and then stripped again because the color wasn’t right.


It was not to be. Part of the blame lies with myself, it usually does. I’ve always used my daughter’s waking time as an alarm clock but today she woke up at 8:00 a.m. instead of her usual 7:00.

The upshot is that I had forty five minutes to get Darcy changed, diapered, fed and dressed before she went to school and this would have been all well and good if my daughter was with the program.

She wasn’t.

I gave her two choices of outfits. She reluctantly picked one and then caterwauled like a shaved cat when I tried to get her dressed. After many threats and cajoling I was able to get her into a top but it was the pants that caused the problem. I knew they’d be, I’d taken as many precautions as I could. I let her play with her bunny and mouse lovey. I let her look out the window as I changed her diaper in the hopes of distracting her from the fact that I would soon be wrestling her into a pair of leggings.

Once Darcy saw what was happening she let loose with every passive aggressive phrase in her vocabulary.

“They hurt, they hurt daddy,” she screamed, “I love you. They hurt.”

I checked to make certain that there wasn’t anything weird in her pants; a stray hair, a fingernail, a katana, really anything that would warrant such a vehement response but there was nothing.

I gave it another shot, told her that she couldn’t go to school without pants and when she calmed down I gave it one more college try. In response Darcy gave a great imitation of a Grand Mal seizure and kicked me in the throat.

“Time out,’ I yelped and put her in the corner, “no pants, no school. You have to stay at home with daddy. No TV and no movies.”

“I’m sleepy,” she said as she howled for her loveys and lunged off the changing table.

Something felt not exactly right about threatening not to take my daughter to school. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized that this would become fodder for a visit by Child Services. I followed up my threat by telling my daughter that if she didn’t go to school and stayed home that there would be no TV, no Dora or Princess Sophia, no time at the park.

Again, as soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized the implications but it was too late. I’d sentenced the two of us to a day inside without television. Darcy didn’t budge and I stuck to my guns…my stupid, stupid guns as she ran around in a diaper and a sequined shirt.  The two of us spent an incredibly crabby day together while she pounded non matching puzzle pieces together with her fist in frustration and I wondered if anyone still sold Quaaludes.

All in all it could have been worse. Instead of barfing out a two mile jog or finishing one of the many projects I’ve started over the past three years and haven’t finished I cleaned the oven and the kitchen. Darcy seemed to be pretty much OK with everything other than the occasional plea to watch a cartoon or movie every fifteen minutes.

When she did I reminded her why she wasn’t allowed to see “Jake and the Neverland Pirates” or “Dora the Explorer” and why she didn’t go to school.

“Daddy was in trouble,” was her response.

“No Darcy was in trouble,” I corrected her.

“No,” she responded with a furrowed brow, “Daddy’s in trouble.”

I certainly am.

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