Just call me big pants
Saturday, May 14, 2005
After a performance earlier this evening I was more than gratified when my audience rushed me, calling out my name. The organisers felt it necessary to award me a special token of their gratitude and presented me with a bottle of San Miguel and a pair of XX Large M&S Y-Fronts. Quite an accolade, I felt.
What?
Ah, well, you see I went to pick up Sean from a party and was encouraged to join in the last event of the evening, namely the most embarrassing dance by a father contest. Of course it was no contest and my flapping arms, uncontrolled legs, and general lack of self-consciousness put all the other fathers to shame. Or put Sean to shame, at least. My son complained that I was actually too embarrassing. Can you imagine? Hey, but who left with the San Miguel?
And the really big pants?
We have eight children sleeping in the house tonight. I think that's a record.
What?
Ah, well, you see I went to pick up Sean from a party and was encouraged to join in the last event of the evening, namely the most embarrassing dance by a father contest. Of course it was no contest and my flapping arms, uncontrolled legs, and general lack of self-consciousness put all the other fathers to shame. Or put Sean to shame, at least. My son complained that I was actually too embarrassing. Can you imagine? Hey, but who left with the San Miguel?
And the really big pants?
We have eight children sleeping in the house tonight. I think that's a record.
