Laina came home after school last week with a Father’s Day gift for Pat. It was a cut out of a giant brown man that she had drawn herself, but it was too big to fit in her backpack so she carried it home.
By the time she arrived she was in tears because Maile had been teasing her about the gift and I was all, “Well, that wasn’t very nice of her…”
I threw Maile a look that said I’d be dealing with her later, but first I wanted to make Laina feel better about her artwork.
“I think it’s a wonderful chef!” I said.
And Maile threw Laina a look that said, “I told you it looks like a chef.”
And then I threw a quick please let that be a chef prayer to the Lord and was all, “Is that a chef Laina?”
And of course Laina sunk into a puddle on the couch because Maile had been calling it a chef all the way home and now here her own mother also called it a chef when it definitely was NOT a chef, but rather obviously it was Pat with a chef’s hat on.
Naturally, I assured her it was a beautifully accurate portrait of her father.
And then I told her a relatable story about how when I was ten I was crying about Father’s Day too, not because I made my Dad look like a chef and was in denial about it, but because my Dad wasn’t even alive to give my chef portrait to.
I had to give my Father’s Day chef portraits to my mother and she was actually a really terrible looking father.
So…see how the glass is half full now?
I definitely turned my Mom Fail into a winning lesson in feeling grateful your dad is alive.
And Pat loved his gift.
Everyone wins.
Except for me.
Because my Mom still makes a really terrible looking father.
Gigi says
It looks EXACTLY like Pat in a chef’s hat!