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You are not my papa

Filed under: Kids,New York City — Thomas @ 02:30

2022-02-18
02:30

Last night I rode our bike home from Brooklyn, with my daughter crying loudly "You are not my papa!" most of the way.

We were a few minutes late picking her up from her class, and she was the last one there, crying in the arms of the teacher, and yelling something loudly, too loud to understand.
I picked her up, hugged her, asked what's wrong and tried to calm her down, but she wasn't having it. I put her in the back of our bike, strapping her in, checking with my son what she could be saying. We finally started making out that she was saying "not my papa".

I tried to convince her that I am, in fact, her papa, but she just kept repeating the same thing. We started our ride back home, and at the first red light I was acutely aware of her still yelling the same thing while standing still in traffic next to other bikes. What would I do if I was stuck in traffic next to a vehicle with a crying child yelling "You are not my papa?", I wondered. I started asking her questions like, "what hair color does your papa have?" to get her to stop and think, and I would respond, "that's interesting, just like me". I'd ask a few questions like that until the lights turned green.

I was hoping this would work for all the stops on our 25 minute ride home, and I was hoping we'd not run into any police cars along the way, just in case. Of course, two minutes later, I was parallel with a string of five police cars, all with their lights flashing. I kept repeating the questions at every stop, until she fell asleep as she usually does on the bike.

She slept all the way through dinner, and the next morning at breakfast I asked her, "who's your papa?" And she beamed at me and yelled, "you are my papa!"

My best guess at what happened is that at pickup she saw a string of papas pick up their kids, but didn't see me, and started saying "you are not my papa" at every other papa, until I was the last one to show up. I'll never show up last again.

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