Super Bean to the Rescue

This is the power of  Hannah-Bean, Spawn of Witten.

The other day, wife wakes me up at some ungodly hour - like 06h30 - to ask me to rinse her car down. Now, to put this all into context, she works very close to a major construction site that includes a new road being built. To say her car is constantly covered in dust would be a gross understatement.

Being the man I am, I grumbled, rolled out of bed, crept into a pair of shorts, slid into a tatty t-shirt and headed to the front yard still crusty-eyed even after brushing my teeth. Now, as any man would know, dust happens to be waterproof. So rinsing down a dust-covered electric blue vehicle is like trying to counter a gale-force gust with a well-directed fart - no matter the intention, it simply will not work. So instead, I decided to just wash the damn car.

Just before I was about to rinse it down, wife emerges ready to leave for work - despite the hour still being somewhat ungodly by my standards (07h00) - looks at her now clean, albeit soap-sudded vehicle and says "I just asked you to rinse it."

Now, I'm pretty adept at using the English language, but I'm sure "I just asked you to rinse it" can in no way be interpreted as "thanks for washing my car". Either way, I responded by telling her it was the worst thank you I'd ever heard, proceeded to rinse the old girl down (the car, not the wife) and trudged back inside.

My day, now so very nearly ruined at such an early hour, needed rescuing. After my shower, hunched over the sink shaving, Hannah-Bean arrives in the bathroom asking if we can "do that thing we do that we saw on Boomerang". Dads have fantastic memory. I instantly knew what she was referring to. What followed made my day...

Me: Shhh... be vewwy quiet. I'm hunting Wabbit.
Bean: *imitates chewing sound* naah, what's up, Doc?
Me: I'm hunting Wabbit.
Bean: What's it look like, Doc?
Me: He's got long pointy ears..
Bean: *interjects, pointing her fingers at her temples* Like this?
Me: And a white fluffy tail...
Bean: *shakes hips to imitate a tail-wiggle* Like this?
Me: And he hops around...
Bean: *begins hopping around like a rabbit* Like this?
Me: Saaay... you look a lot like a Wabbit

At this point, four-year-old superhero Bean can no longer contain herself. She bursts into raucous laughter, and my half-shaven face - the other half of which is still covered in shaving foam - erupts into a guffaw along with her.

Day made.

Daughter Commentary

My daughter, Hannah says the most incredible things.

She calls me awesome names, too. When she was 2, she'd call me Daddy-Laddy. I could understand this, because it rhymes. But there are some other interesting ones she's come up with since then.

My favourite is Mister Lance. So authoritative. From now on, that's how I'll introduce myself.

I also have my own nicknames for her. Very seldom is it just Hannah. I also call her Bean. Because, well, in the words of a very dear friend "She's a little human bean". So it's Bean, Hannah-Bean or Babyshoes. To which she often responds "But I'm not a baby anymore." She's 4, and I assume will always be my baby.

I usually post her crazy ramblings on Twitter under the hashtag #DaughterCommentary

Here's some of the other stuff she says:

"Dad you forgot to tighten my button loose when you put my shorts on this morning. I always tighten it loose when I wee"

Pouring a scotch while I'm braaiing, I say "Hannah, turn the meat for daddy please?" She replies "but I'm only small"

Daughter in a robotic voice: "I'm. not. Hannah. I'm. a. robot. I. don't. need. body. cream. I. need. oil."

Trying to switch on a DVD, I kept telling her to press the triangle (for PLAY). After a few failed attempts, she looks all forlorn and says "but I'm only small"

Dodding about in the garden, she asks to go to the park. I say "When mommy's done studying, we can go to the park." After a long pause she says "We should get another mommy. Then she can study and we can go to the park."