aka, “PA!” (only when yelled loudly and abruptly); aka “Daaaadddddy?” (usually only when wanting something, but also occasionally if scared).
Fun Facts:
Physically, pretty much me in dude form, only middle-aged and tall. Seriously, almost every one of my quirkiest, “autopsy-yep-that’s-her” features came from him. One cheek fatter than the other? Check. Deep-set eyes? Check. High arches? Check. Long limbs? Check. Maddeningly even (if slightly torso-centric at the extreme) natural pattern of weight distribution? Check. Broad, well-defined shoulders? Check. Freaky-ass shelf in the middle of our noses, making it damn near impossible to find glasses that fit properly? Check.
Forced to play along with that hippie-dippie, “she’s not being disrespectful, just give her the answer, how else will she learn to think critically?” bullshit in raising me. Split the difference by simply making answers up.
Scar on his knee and leg from a downhill bike accident? One was from ‘WWII, one was from ‘Nam. (He was born in the ’60′s.)
“Why are those geese waddling towards us on our picnic, you ask?” [Stage left: Mother, vigorously wiping child's hands and face with deli-provided citrus moist towelettes.] ”Come on, Jess, everybody knows geese love lemons!” [Cue child's maniacal screams, circular sprints; Mother rolling eyes, Father wiping tears of laughter from eyes.]
“Oh, that air freshener in the restaurant bathroom? How does it know when to spray? It’s got a built-in sensor that detects when people make it really stinky, and goes off then.” [Child sits quietly for remainder of meal, worriedly ruminating over how her pee could smell that bad without her even noticing.]
Later turned the “are you serious? are you lying? how do you know?” tables on me and insisted that I “name my source.” FOR EVERYTHING I STATED AS FACT. And by later, I mean about 3rd grade. Led to a badass gossip-nipping tool in adolescence; lifelong paranoia about accurate and adequate citation otherwise (including in casual conversation).
Hates basically all vegetables except lettuce (eats “salad”) and green beans. Because no, potatoes don’t count as a vegetable for paleo-hippie-dippie-wife-food purposes.
Requires maddeningly little sleep to function; actually cannot sleep longer than 4.5-6 hours unless incredibly ill. Still functions at a higher set-point of productivity than roughly 93% of the population, including special-ops teams and surgical residents.
Doesn’t say much; usually thinks before he does. Considerably more observant and analytical than most people notice, and I’m pretty sure he likes it that way.
Generally very stylish, if conservatively so, inexplicable* yet intractable love of cargo shorts notwithstanding. (*ok, not inexplicable - “the pockets hold a lot of stuff”. But *I’m* the hoarder. Hmph.)
Way more of a closet hippie than he will ever recognize, let alone acknowledge. Taught me recycling as a moral imperative – I still can’t actually *throw away* a plastic bottle at home, and feel like I need to tell someone and take a shower when “forced” to do so out and about. I actually got grounded for getting caught throwing away a soda can one time. Spoiler alert: Mom didn’t bust me.
Loves trees more than any Republican I know.