Cool Hand Luke, Tangled and My Daughter Rapunzel

After taking the advice of an amazing blogger (Rachel from Wordstream,) I brought The Scribe on a date to the library and she found Hank the Cowdog.  It's a humerous mystery series and I'm shocked, but The Scribe is already halfway through the book--in less than a day; that's over 75 pages!

Between that, her Blog and my mom who pulled out The Scribe's picture so she'll pray for her every day, hopefully my girl will start scoring better on the reading tests at school--they're testing her again in two weeks.
Yahoo, for Rachel and her awesome advice! 

P. S. You should check out her blog.  I LOVE it.

Here's the link:
Wordstream
 
Now, on to the story.

The Hippie has been watching Tangled non-stop.  She loves it and I think the biggest reason is because she looks so much like Disney's Rapunzel.  That would be fantastic IF The Hippie didn't have such a good imagination AND wasn't hellbent on proving she's not Rapunzel! 

Yesterday, after short day, she pulled me aside and said, "My whole class thinks I'm Rapunzel.  I have to do something to prove them wrong."  She shuffled her feet and slouched forlornly.  "I put my hair in front of my face.  I even showed them yucky, frowny lips, but they said no matter what I do, I still look . . . just like Rapunzel!"  She stomped off.  I know she loves every minute even though she acts like she doesn't.  "I have to prove them wrong," she whispered as she trudged away probably to watch Tangled--again.

My dad called as The Hippie left the room.  Now, my dad is amazing.  He's not your average fellow, not at all.  He's cooler than Cool Hand Luke or Hud!  He has a Harley AND the tan I've always dreamed of having!  He's tall and strong with long blond hair.  He's in perfect shape even though he's over sixty.  But all that aside, he has this personality of gold.  You hang out with that guy and feel like you can fly, climb rainbows, be famous . . . you name it, my dad makes you feel like you're better than you are and he does that all with a simple nod--because that's just how he is.

So, when he called and said he was coming over, I thought that was pretty awesome, but I also wanted the house to be spotless.  I hung up the phone and whirled around like the tornado of cleanliness.  I love my dad, but think he's so legendary, I want him to like me too.

We cleaned, or rather I cleaned as The Scribe read about Hank and The Hippie sorted her conflicting emotions.  She kept watching the very beginning of Tangled where Gothel cuts Rapunzel's hair and that lock turns brown as it loses its magical power.

The Zombie Elf (my two-year-old boy) grabbed the broom and swept the carpet as the baby cooed by her toys.  I thought everything looked great and thankfully that's when my dad showed up.  I hugged him big and hoped the kids would behave like they had while I cleaned.

Have you ever loved someone so much, looked up to them in such a way that you want them to think you're perfect?  That's what I do with my dad, that's why this story is so mortifying.  The Hippie and The Scribe forgot whatever they were doing and rushed over the second they saw "Papa."  That's when they started acting like monkeys in a zoo.  I huffed--so they could move, now that I'd finished cleaning ALL BY MYSELF!

I groaned, knowing what was about to happen.  A mattress, slid down the stairs, teetered and slapped against the floor.  I put my hands over my eyes before braving a glance at my father's reaction.  He did looked stunned, but more by the Zombie Elf who thought he was a jungle Jim!

The girls started jumping on the mattress at that point.  In my defense I let them use it for tumbling, but it probably seemed weird to my father who had no idea it's their exercise mat.  My oldest girls are both pretty good tumblers and they thought it would be great to start showing Papa their backhand-springs and flips.

The Hippie turned up the volume on the "Mother Knows Best" song and I nearly screamed as a foot flew near my father's face!

"They're not normally like this . . . I swear."  A halfhearted chuckle flew from my actress mouth.

He stayed quiet and observed in his "I'm a kick-butt biker" sort of way.  "They sure are . . . athletic."

Well, that was putting it nicely!  His comment might have made me feel better if I didn't have this plan of perfection.  So the girls did get quiet after a minute and I heard them whispering.  That's when they left the room and went back upstairs to the front room.  Their quietness scared the Hell out of me, but I didn't want my dad knowing.  We were having an awesome conversation about Tangled.

  

That's the thing with my dad, he makes anything fun.  Even when he takes me deer hunting--it's gold, pure and sweet.  He made me shepherd's coffee one time and I remember sitting on the side of a mountain.  It was around five in the morning and we sat there, riffles slung over our shoulders, four wheelers resting far behind us.  We drank that shepherd's coffee 'til the sun came up and I'll never forget just sitting there, thinking how great life is.

That's why when we walked back up the stairs, I nearly choked.  The girls had found my yarn!  They'd strung it all across the house in less than a few minutes!  I'd bought variegated yarn and different rainbow colors shot out everywhere.  Why do they insist on doing these things to me?  That freaked me out, but what made my heart drop in horror, was the chunk of hair lying on the floor!  So, The Hippie didn't want to be Rapunzel?  Well, I'd have a word with her!  I'd have a GOOD word with her about how looking like Rapunzel is better than being bald!

My dad walked after me and I thought fast.  He'd see the hair if I didn't hurry, but there wasn't time to pick it up.  How in the heck could I get his attention from it?  I suddenly darted and put my jacket over the hair.  What the Hell was I thinking?  The place was a disaster!

I stood in front of my jacket AND the mess of knots--a whole tangled web of yarn my girls had hooked from doorknob to doorknob!  The house looked how my heart felt--like a monster mess--a ball of confusion.  My world was crumbling because of my addiction . . . TO THE SEWING STORE!

"Wow, they sure work fast," Cool Hand Luke said.

"Yes, they do."

His eyes went wide as he peered around.  I wondered what he thought and I could have crumpled on the floor that had been so clean!

"You all right, hon?  I mean, how you holding up with all these kids?"

"Oh, I'm fine.  Perfect."  What the heck was I saying!  My jacket rested over a pile of Rapunzel hair!

The Hippie hollered.  "We're coming through the spiderwebs!

I cringed.  Maybe we'd see how bad her hair looked and then my dad would know what a failure I am.  Maybe he'd never take me hunting, never drink shepherd's coffee with me; we'd never watch a sunrise together again . . . me and my Cool Hand Luke father!

But as The Hippie crawled through the mess of string, I sighed, glad we couldn't see where she'd cut her hair--that was at least something and that was when my father surprised me.  He caught The Hippie and started tickling her.  "Well you little, teeny," he caught The Scribe too, "girls!  These aren't webs.  These are lasers!"  He got on his hands and knees--my father--the man who I look up to so much, actually got down and crawled through those lasers.  Tears filled my eyes as The Zombie Elf jumped onto my dad's back and the baby's legs got tangled in some nearby string.  The five of them looked like a bunch of puppies, a bunch of incredibly happy puppies.

I sat down on my jacket that covered the pile of hair and tears filled my eyes.  It was such a beautiful scene, but more than that I'd realized something.  I don't need to try and be perfect, especially for my father; he'll love me no matter what because he likes me . . . for me.

So later, after my dad left and I'd cleaned up all the lasers and hair, I asked The Hippie, "Where did you cut your hair and why did you do it?"

She swept her waist-length hair to the side and showed me a section in the very back.  "I wanted to see if my hair was magic.  I wanted to know if it would turn brown after I cut it . . . like Rapunzel."

I laughed so hard.  I couldn't believe it!

"You know how I said I didn't want to be Rapunzel?" she asked and I nodded.  "Well I am kind of sad my hair didn't turn brown."

"You may not be Rapunzel," I giggled, "but you're something much better.  You're my little hippie and your hair is always magical  . . . even if it gets cut."  I hugged her big and we smiled at each other as the song "Mother Knows Best" boomed from the TV for the millionth time that day.

Here's a fun trailer for Tangled if you haven't see it yet.

Wanted:



Here's an awesome story my buddy wrote about The Hippie's first break-up.

This is a really cute story and awesome blog:



Mr. P.'S first love story