My blog for the next 3 weeks will be snippets of dialogue between me and my 10-year-old daughter, Rhiannon, who is staying with me in Montreal.

12 July 2011 – 2:30 PM: Montreal Central Station

Me: Hi honey!!!

Rhiannon [standing waiting with VIA Rail Attendant]: You’re late, Daddy!

Me [smugly]: Actually, your train was 15 minutes early so I am, in fact, early!

Rhiannon: There’s this thing called the Internet, Daddy, where you could’ve checked the train schedule.

VIA Rail Attendant [coolly, tapping her foot]: She’s right, you know.

Me [pointing at Rhiannon]: Gaaa! Don’t agree with her! She’s devil’s spawn!

Rhiannon: Daddy!!!

VIA Rail Attendant: I will require one – actually no, make that two – pieces of official ID with your address on it.

Rhiannon: He probably lost his wallet on the way over here.

Me: I did NOT lose my wallet! Here! See!!!

VIA Rail Attendant [meticulously scrutinizing the ID]: Hmmm… okay… you sure this jerk is your father?

Rhiannon [sighing]: Ugh. Yes. Come on, Daddy. Let’s go.

Me [looking over my shoulder at the VIA Rail Attendant]: Okay, what a bitch…

Rhiannon: Daddy!!!!

*

12 July 2011 – 10:35 PM: My Place 

Me: Going to bed. ‘Night.

Rhiannon [shoving ‘Life Story’ magazine in my face]: Look at this. Just look at this!!

Me: What the fuck!

Rhiannon: Stop swearing all the time. Selena Gomez!!!

Me: Who the hell is Selena Gomez?!

Rhiannon [incredulously]: Whhhaaaaaaaaat?! You don’t know who Selena Gomez is?

Me: Haven’t the foggiest idea.

Rhiannon [after spending an hour explaining the life story of Selena Gomez]: And she’s dating that asshole Justin Bieber.

Me: Watch your mouth!

Rhiannon: Look at this picture! Look! He’s trying to kiss her but she’s clearly leaning away from him. Can’t he see that she just doesn’t like him?!

Me: What exactly is you problem with Justin Bieber anyway? You really can’t stand that guy.

Rhiannon: Daddy, he is such a geek and he’s just… just… gross. Selena Gomez can do WAY better than him…

Me: You’re right! She could be with me!

Rhiannon: Pwaaaaahahaaaaaaahaaaaaaa! Ha! I mean – HA!!!!!!!!!

Me: Good night, Rhiannon.

Rhiannon: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!

*

13 July 2011 – 1:45 PM – Labyrinth

Rhiannon: This is so cool!

Me: I’m going to be sick…

Rhiannon: What’s your problem?

Me [curled up in a ball on the floor, quivering]: Claustrophobia!

Rhiannon: Man up, Daddy!

Me: Man up? Who taught you that phrase?

Rhiannon: Mummy.

Me: Oh, God.

Rhiannon: Are you sucking your thumb?

Me: No, just pretending to.

Rhiannon: Why do you hate Mummy so much?

Me: I don’t hate her, honey. I just find her… well… let’s say – I feel the same way about her as you do about Justin what’s-his-face.

Rhiannon: Why?

Me: Because she’s annoying.

Rhiannon: Why?

Me: What do you mean “why”? That was a statement of fact!

Rhiannon: What do you mean “a statement of fact”?

Me: A “statement of fact” is something that is verifiably true.

Rhiannon: What does “verifiably” mean?

Me [smacking Rhiannon in the back of the head]: Did that hurt?

Rhiannon: Yes!

Me: I have just verified that smacks to the back of the head hurt.  Do you want me to now verify that Mummy is a jerk?

Rhiannon: You’re a jerk, Daddy.

Me: You better verify that allegation!

*

14 July 2011 – 2:43 PM – Granby Zoo 

Me: Look at that gorilla, honey!

Rhiannon: He reminds me of you.

Me: What?

Rhiannon: Big. Ugly. Rude. Smells bad. Drags his knuckles on the ground when he walks. You figure it out.

Me: Man, that stings.

Rhiannon: Well, you’re not as gross as the hippos, at least.

Me: But you love the hippos!!!

Rhiannon: True – but they’re gross. They eat their own shit.

Me: Hey!!!

Rhiannon: Okay, fine – you don’t eat your own shit. But you’re definitely gross.

Me: I feel so much better now.