Mara is a daddy’s girl in many ways.
Her general approach to nature is not one of them.
While she likes seeing doggies, little bunnies, and cute squirrels outside, she completely stops everything she’s doing to complain about it when she sees a bug, spider, or ant.
I was just in the middle of feeding her lunch. I turned my back for a second. She immediately started hysterically crying.
I just saw a fly! I saw a fly!
I look all around her food, the table, and general kitchen area. I see nothing. But she won’t quit crying.
So I step out for a second and grab a fly swatter in case I do end up seeing it.
When I come back to the kitchen I see the sumbitch stationed on the top right hand corner of a chair two down from where Mara is sitting.
I alert no one.
It seems like I have a fairly unsuccessful percentage rate in my past first attempts in these situations.
I walk closer. The fly crawls over to the blindside of the chair arm. At this point I can’t even see it.
On an instinctual whim I go over the chair with my top down backhanded swinging motion and nail it. Cut the damn thing in half in fact.
The noise it makes and my giddy satisfaction with myself go largely unnoticed by everyone else in the room.
Harrison keeps his head down eating and Tabitha simply leaves to go back into the office.
But Mara quits crying, looks at me, and gets a grin from ear to ear.
Gives me a fist pound and I stand next to her for a minute, telling her all about the greatness of what just happened.
“That fly flew into the wrong house.”
“Poor thing never stood a chance.”
“Split it in half too. Left no doubt.”
“I usually don’t get those damn things on the first try.”
She just kept saying ‘yeah’ and giggling after everything I said.
It was a beautiful father-daughter moment as far as I’m concerned.
Now I’m actually looking forward to the next time she sees a fly.