Put a Sock in It

A text from me to Cap’n Firepants regarding an afternoon surprise for our daughter.

Can you guess what the surprise was?

Cap’n Firepants came home from work to take us out for lunch – and a few other things.  Our daughter, Dimples (9), a summer flip-flop gal asked us, before leaving the house, “Are we going anywhere after?”  She held out one foot with her new leopard-print flats adorning it.

The Cap’n and I looked at each other.

“Why do you want to know?” I casually asked.  At the same time, the Cap’n blurted, “Why don’t you wear your new tennis shoes?”

Have I mentioned that the Cap’n is horrible at keeping secrets?

“She doesn’t need to wear her tennis shoes.  Why would she need tennis shoes if all we are doing is going to lunch?” I said, very slowly, turning to open my eyes very wide at him.  This is my secret way of saying, “Shut up, Cap’n Firepants!”

“O-o-kay,” Dimples said.

On the way to our surprise destination, Cap’n Firepants took the most ridiculous circuitous route possible, weaving behind strip malls, and taxing my “Take the straightest line possible to your goal” obsessive/compulsive mini-disorder to its greatest extent.  This was partly because he did not want Dimples to know where we were going until the last possible minute, and partly because he did not know where we were going at the last possible minute.

“Where?” he loudly whispered to me when were almost there.

“Best Buy,” I hissed.

When we finally arrived at our destination, I said, “Surprise!” to Dimples in the back seat.

“I knew where we were going before we got in the car,” Dimples grinned.  And she wasn’t lying.  I could tell.

“What gave it away?” I asked.

“When Dad told me to put on tennis shoes.”

I glared at Cap’n Firepants as I whipped out the neon green socks I had secreted in my purse.

“You can still bowl, though, because I brought your socks!” I bragged.

“I know,” she said.

She may not have been surprised, but she was happy.  Dimples’ dimples were in full evidence as we bowled and skee-balled and wheel-of-fortuned our afternoon away at Main Event.

My one fervent hope is that she inherited our crappy ability to lie.  That could come in handy during her teenage years…

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Posted on August 18, 2012, in Cap'n Firepants, Children, Dimples, Family, Humor, Parenting and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 27 Comments.

  1. I am the ‘de-facto step mother ‘ (his words) to a teenager who is incapable of lying without several obvious facial cues. It definitely has many advantages!

  2. Much better was to sneakily pack her shoes behind her back. Seeing that she readily sniffed the mystery, I think your hopes are all for a nought. 😛

  3. Kids…

    They say parents are supposed to know. I can sometimes tell when they are lying, but I often have to lie and pretend I know, when really I have no idea when they are doing something wrong.

  4. That is too cute of a story! My daughter can’t lie to us. In fact, she actually just tells us stuff that I would have never told my mother when I was her age for fear of being grounded. We don’t sweat the small stuff. That helps her feel like she can just communicate with us about everything and anything. No need to lie, or try. She’s almost 14. I hope our honesty streak keeps going!! Good luck to you!

  5. I think you should practice these set ups on Wonderbutt.
    And once you’re comfortable and prepared, you can feed him the socks as a reward!

  6. Thank you for the story. It reminds me of a family tradition my parents started. They called it Mystery Rides. I don’t remember all the places we went but the fact that they tried stuck and I carried on the fun with my own kids. It’s harder as they get older but the effort pays off. Keep up the good work. And, thanks again for such a fun little story. It was just the thing to start my day on the right note.

  7. My son definitely can’t keep secrets. I hope that stays too!

  8. Don’t count on her inheriting that critical crappy lying skill.

  9. I think all teenagers get a super lying ability that goes away when they become parents.

  10. My husband figures out surprises based on the most minuscule scrap of evidence. I have almost given up.

  11. That’s an awesome surprise!! You guys may not know how to lie, but you sure know how to have fun!

  12. She knew and didn’t call you on it. Be very afraid for her teenage years. Very afraid. 🙂

  13. I thought you guys had been quiet, but then checked my blogs I follow list and you (and Chuck & the Collies) had somehow disappeared from it! So not happy with that little WordPress glitch, but fun to have extra blogs to catch up on.

  14. My husband is terrible about keeping secrets, too. Terrible. Men.

  15. Kids, they KNOW, they always Know!!! LOL….

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