Daddy, the Enforcer

Last night, Diane called me at work shortly before the 10:00 newscast, and as we were chatting, she gasped, "Oh my gosh, Kyra's still awake. She's in her bed singing. Here, I'm going to give her the phone. Tell her to go to sleep."

She caught me off guard. "Wha...why don't YOU tell her to go to sleep?" I asked.

"Because she'll listen to you. Here she is."

And with that, I was cast into the spotlight: it was showtime. Kyra took the phone and greeted me in her cheery voice, "Hi Daddy." Today was a half-day of school for the girls, which meant Kyra would go to school in the morning instead of her usual afternoons, and that she would get to take her lunch box and eat in the cafeteria with the other kids. Kyra was going to get to do big girl things and she was excited. Too excited to sleep. But still.

I quickly took my disciplinary tone with her, "Sweetie, it is WAY past your bedtime and you need to be up early for school tomorrow. Stop messing around and go to sleep."

"But Daddy..." Kyra ALWAYS has something to say.

"Stop messing around and go to sleep...goodnight," I enunciated.

"BWWWAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa," the sound of Kyra's bawling trailed off as Diane took the phone and exited her room. You'd have thought I thrust a spike through her ear. Have I mentioned before that Kyra has a flare for the dramatic?

Diane got back on the line and I thanked her for that pleasant and uplifting phone experience and then excused myself to get ready for the newscast. Sometimes I hate playing the heavy.