She's Turning...

Daycare turned my oldest daughter into an asshole.

Not a total asshole. Just a part time asshole.

It's hard to know for sure when the transformation happened but I'm pretty positive this is a fact.

I'm not making an accusation of any kind. In fact, I don't really give a crap. What's done is done. Because I was a first time parent, I wasn't fully aware of the signs. I blamed most of her "behavioral patterns" on Hannah Montana and Candy. To me the transformation seemed logical. Before I had daughters, I never knew what it was like to live with women. Sure, I live with my wife but that's different.

Living with your wife is like, partly cloudy with a chance of scattered showers.

Living with your wife and two daughters is like, watch out for the fucking tsunami, with a chance of sun.

The point is and I know I'm gonna get shit for this but I kind of expected my daughter to turn into a little bit of a bitch at some point. This is what Fathers of Daughters are told to expect. Now, you can interpret that statement however you want but I actually say that with one part sarcasm, two parts fear, a dash of love and a pinch of respect.

My wife and I always have the same discussion about our two daughters. It goes something like this...

Wife - "Why does she have to be such an asshole?"

Out-Numbered - "She just has a strong personality and remember... She's a Leo."

Wife - "She's an asshole."

Out-Numbered - "Well, the little one will eventually turn. You'll see."

Wife - "No way. She's too sweet and mushy."

Out-Numbered - "I give her two weeks at Daycare before the Asshole gene kicks in."

Wife - "Nope, not my baby. She's different."

Out-Numbered - "Keep living that lie, crazy pants."

When my wife went back to work in September, we enrolled our youngest daughter (Sweet and Mushy) in Daycare. The same establishment that her older sister graduated from with honors (GET YOUR DAUGHTER THE FUCK OUT OF OUR SCHOOL!!!).

7:53am - In the car with my youngest (Sweet and Mushy) daughter on the way to Daycare. This is the end of Week 3.

Out-Numbered - "Are you excited for school today Munchkin?"

Sweet and Mushy - "Yes."

Out-Numbered - "What do you think you'll do today at school?"

Sweet and Mushy - "Play outside on the swings."

Out-Numbered - "That sounds like fun baby."

Sweet and Mushy - "We have a swing set at home."

Out-Numbered - "Yes we do."

Sweet and Mushy - "And Flowers."

Out-Numbered - "Flowers?"

Sweet and Mushy - "Yes Flowers."

Out-Numbered - "I don't think we have any Flowers sweetheart."

Sweet and Mushy - "Yes we do."

Out-Numbered - "Oh. You mean the flowers I bought Mommy?"

Sweet and Mushy - "Yes."

Out-Numbered - "That's right but we threw those out last week. We don't have any more Flowers."

Sweet and Mushy - "Yes we do."

Out-Numbered - "No honey. We through them out. They're not there anymore."

Sweet and Mushy - "YES WE DO! They're in the kitchen you IDIOT!"

and baby makes three... the transformation is complete.

Thanks Daycare.

Now I'm officially Out-Numbered...

PostScript: I just wanted to proudly point out one thing. Upon returning home later that evening, I found said flowers still in the kitchen. It should be duly noted that my youngest daughter, while rude and disrespectful, used the word "idiot" in the proper context.

I think Louis C.K. sums it up best. Perhaps I'm not the only one after all. Forward to the 3:08 mark.