Daddy of Steel

Daddy of Steel

“C’mon Daddy.” My five year old daughter squealed as I walked through the door. “Hurry and get changed.”

“Well, good afternoon to you!” I laughed. “What’s the hurry sweetheart?”

“It’s almost dark!” She tugged forcefully on my pant leg. “Time to get your costume on so we can go trick or treatin’.”

Smiling at the seriousness in her face, I reached down and picked her up. “Whoa there princess, Mommy is supposed to take you after supper.”

“Mommy can’t!,” Her little blue eyes teared up. “She cut her finger a little when she was carving the pumpkin. She had to have stitches.”

“Oh no!” I looked around, expecting Janice to pop out from behind the door laughing. “Where is Mommy?”

“She said she had to go lay down for awhile,” she said, pointing upstairs, “she said her finger hurt and she had to take some medicine from the bottle in the cupboard.”

Carrying Michelle under one arm, I strode up the stairs. “Janice?” I called softly. “Janice, where are you?”

Putting Michelle down at her bedroom door, I patted her head, “Honey, why don’t you go wash up for supper while I talk to Mommy for a minute.”

“Okay Daddy!” She turned to go before turning back. “But you got to hurry, it’s almost dark outside.”

“Okay honey, I’ll just go see how Mommy is and be right back.” Before I could open our bedroom door, Michelle came running back.

“Daddy,” she whispered, “you know what else? Mommy said some bad words when she cutted her finger, she said damnitall, shit!”

Feigning shock, I looked down at her so serious face as I struggled to hold back a laugh. “Wow,” I whispered, “what did you do?”

Still whispering, she looked around. “I runned and got the band aides while Mommy washed her finger. Daddy, are you going to make Mommy wash out her mouth? She didn't mean it, her finger must have hurted a lot!”

“No, we’ll have to wait until her Mommy comes at Christmas so she can do that.” I smiled. “I’ll bet it did hurt a lot though. Did Mommy cry?”

“Nope,” she said in all seriousness, “she just said damnitall, shit and mother... Was she talking about her Mommy?”

Manfully holding back another laugh, I hugged her quickly. “Okay, you run and wash up now and I’ll talk to Mommy. Maybe she was thinking about her Mommy washing out her mouth.”

Turning to the bedroom door, I could hear Judy Garland singing faintly from inside.

Opening the door, I saw Janice reclining on the bed, a glass of wine on the nightstand beside her. The flickering images of Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tinman and the Cowardly Lion, cast a multicolor rainbow across the darkened room.

“Janice,” I whispered, “are you okay? Michelle said you had to have stitches.”

Turning her eyes from the television, Janice laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t all that bad, I was trying to show her how to carefully cut off the top of the pumpkin and the knife slipped a little. Almost showed her how to not so carefully cut off a finger.”

“Oh Lord sweety!” I crossed to the bed. “Are you all right?”

“Ten lovely stitches.” She held up her bandaged hand. “I may never play the piano again, of course I'd have to learn HOW to play one first. You’ll have to take Michelle out tonight, I picked up a costume for you on the way back from the doctor.”

“A costume?” I frowned. “I have to dress up too?”

“Of course darling!” She laughed, a twinkle in her eye. “It IS Halloween after all. Michelle helped me pick a costume especially for you.”

Looking in the direction of her gaze, I saw a Superman costume hanging from our bathroom door.

“Oh Lord!” I laughed out loud, imagining my 300 pound portly frame squeezed inside. “I’ll look like a lumpy sausage with a cape!”

“Michelle said with a Superman costume on, you’ll be safe from all the monsters out there.” Janice laughed.