Slow Down, Sister

I haven’t decided whether or not it’s the natural tendency of a

two-year old or just my particular two-year old, but Finley has only one gear… fast. From the moment she wakes up in the morning and her feet touch the ground, she’s off like the Road Runner. Except there’s no little cloud of smoke or spinning sign that says “poof!” And we, as the Wiley E. Coyote parents, are left to figure out ways to slow her down.

It’s no wonder she sleeps 9 to 10 hours a night, when she’s burning out her fuse during the day. And it’s not just the rate of speed of DOING things but how many things she wants to DO.

You have to understand that we have a small place and 10 minutes of hurricane Finley results in toys and toy parts being scattered throughout the condo, some never to be seen again for months. So, we take her outside, to parks and she runs and runs and swings and slides and bounces. Does that wind her down? Not really.

For the most part, I can accept all this crazy energy and lack of attention span… She’s a toddler, after all. But there’s one little area of her personality that I wish she would take a little slower. It may be a small thing and it’s actually pretty funny.

At our house, there are several names Finley calls us by. There’s the standard Mommy and Daddy, but we also have Momma Mia and Poppa Pia or Daddy Poppa. But lately she’s taken to calling for us in a new way. I first heard it when she wanted to show Heather something and called to her… “Ummm, Mom? Look at this.” Then she started calling me “Dad.” I’m fine with Daddy and Poppa, but it seems a little early for “Dad.”

To me, “Dad” is used when your kids are too cool for Daddy. When they stop holding your hand in public or walk a little ahead or behind on the sidewalk. “Dad” is for teens who draw it out to “Daaaad” when they want the keys to the car or are afraid you’re embarrassing them in front of their friends. And as much as I will enjoy that, I’m not ready for that, now.

I like “Daddy” and “Poppa.” I like the little girl who runs in the door when she gets home from daycare and hugs my leg and says “Daddy!” I like the I like the little voice that says it. It just sounds so weird when that little voice says, “Dad.”

So, she can run around till the carpet is bare and she can dump a whole basket of toys on the living room floor then hop on the couch like a bunny rabbit. But it’s just a bit early to leave “Daddy” behind. I’m not ready to be “Dad” just yet. Actually, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to be “Dad.” She can call me “Daddy” into her 30s, right?