YOU HAVE A PRESENT FOR ME. YES.

i happen to have been out of town a few times this year already -- twice for work, once on vacation with my bride. on each of those trips, because i felt guilty for being away and because i missed my child with the intensity of a dead lightbulb (sweet, sweet ipod, it has been lovely to reacquaint with you)--which in turn made me feel guilty for not missing her enough--i would always come home with a big fat present. or six. t-shirts, puppets, coin boxes, dolls, sea shells. this child gets HOOKED THE FUCK UP every time i leave the house for more than 12 hours. sometimes, because the occasional "no strings attached" (except for the strings tied to my very SOUL) freebie crosses my desk at work, i don't even have to be out of the house for more than half that long before returning laden with plush goodies ...

unfortunately, she has figured this out.

every time i get home these days, it goes like this:

daughter: DADDY! i'm so happy to see you!
me, melting: aw, babe. i'm happy to see you too! gimme a hug.
daughter: you have a present for me!
me, solidifying: um. no. not today.
daughter: WHY?

this, as you can imagine, has become something of a problem around here. generally she takes no-present-daddy in good stride. shrugs him off and returns to cramming stuffed animals up her shirt ("you have to be CAREFUL. there's a baby in my tummy." clearly there is a fair amount of processing going on around here.)

other times, the sailing is less smooth. like the other night. at 2 AM. when she woke up shouting "DADDY!" i stumbled into her room. "what's wrong, baby?" she rolls over: "i want a present." i delivered her a present, all right. a sotto voce f-bomb and a promise to introduce her tomorrow to the gypsies who will be her new parents. for some reason she did not thank me. i am mystified.