Welcome to Abu Halen.

If you listen real heard, you can actually hear the good times roll. Or at least limp. Maybe crawl.

Bad Parenting, by Abu Halen -- Part 1,183 (or, "Father Administers Known Allergen to Daughter While Horrifed Nurse Looks On")

My family got flu shots last week. I arrived late from my office while everyone else was in the back of the clinic lining up for their shots. A nurse sat at a table in the lobby and asked me to fill out paperwork that had somehow been skipped when my family arrived. So I sat in the lobby, filling out forms with the nurse, my pockets full of mini Snickers bars that I had pilfered from a communal candy jar back in my office. My intent was to distribute the mini Snickers bars to my kids as a reward for bravely receiving their shots, or, in other words, as a means of buying their affection, or at least staving off my own irrelevance as they get older.

Proof that both Violet and Deity forgive me. (Abu Dhabi, UAE; Oct 2019)

The door from the lobby into the clinic opened and Violet poked her head through, noticed me, and ran to give me a hug. The nurse smiled at this clear bond of father-daughter love. It must have been an inescapable fact in the nurse’s eyes that only an attentive, doting father could have fostered such a sweet relationship with his little girl.

I hugged Violet and then reached into my pocket with a glint in my eye. Her face brightened in anticipation. I pulled out a mini Snickers. “Guess what I brought for my best girl?” I said.

Violet took it and turned it over in her little seven year-old hand. Her face dropped, her shoulders sagged. “Dad,” she sighed. “Once again, I am allergic to peanuts.” She handed the little candy bar back to me as if it were a hand grenade.

“Riiiiiiiight,” I said in a thoughtful voice, nodding slowly, remembering that, in fact, Snickers have peanuts in them, and that, in fact, Violet has been allergic to peanuts for the past almost eight years. The nurse was stifling, not laughter, but an expression of grave concern. I turned slowly to face her. “Please disregard what you just witnessed,” was all I said. She allowed herself a nervous smile, I turned back to the paperwork, and Violet lumbered away into the clinic to where the shots were being administered. She must’ve wagered it was safer there.

The Future Is Coming -- Thank Goodness? (or, "Who's Your Butcher?")

There Goes the Fear (or, "Dang Hippy World-Hugger")