Fat Dad with Glasses: Alignment

I’ve spent hours, literally hours, looking for a cell phone that was underneath a comic book that was setting in exactly the same place I usually leave it.  If the ketchup is behind the salsa in the fridge, it might as well be on the moon.  Once, I scoured a new apartment looking for a clear plastic shelf that was resting on top of the shelf directly below where it should have been.

What I’m doing here is admitting that I’m not always the most observant person.  But even still, I have recently been picking up on an alarming trend.

I’m pretty sure my daughter is going to be a super-villain.

I have no idea when the signs first started showing, but I definitely started noticing the trend in the last year or so.  I shrugged it off at first.  “Just regular kid stuff,” I’d say to myself.  Putting soft rubber stickers on the floor that you could never possibly get off, or leaving building blocks out to be stepped on.  Every kid headbutts and/or karate chops the old man in the nuts.  It’s just a rite of passage into fatherhood.  Don’t worry about that obviously maniacal laugh that accompanies it.  Kids will be kids.

I mean... that doll would be creepy even if it didn't have marker all over its face.

I mean… that doll would be creepy even if it didn’t have marker all over its face.

Slowly, it started to become more apparent that her habits were just outright evil.  Maybe your run of the mill kid would hide the TV remote, day after day, in the deepest crevasses of the couch, or that chair no one ever sits in.  Though, it takes a special kind of evil genius to take the batteries out and throw them under a different chair first.

Then, I started to notice the oddball way she always picks the bad guy in any role play.  Most little girls want to be Dora.  My daughter is Swiper.  She’s Skeletor, Hordak, Darth Vader, Mumm-ra, The Joker, Bowser and a Creeper.  Without fail, if she’s introduced to a new set of characters, she always picks the bad guy as her favourite.  If I’m lucky, I’ll get to be a hero.  Usually, I’m delegated the role of a random expendable sidekick.  In Super Mario World, I’m a fire breathing statue of Bowser.  I’m not just expendable, I’m immobile.

Once that reality sets in… you notice the creepy.  Last month, I came home from work, or in from the woodshed, or something–I walked in the fucking door, it doesn’t matter where I was–and there was a doll lying on the floor in front of the door, with little letter-puzzle stickers on top of its eyes, and one on its mouth. It looked like Jigsaw had designed the funeral for Jon Arryn on Game of Thrones.

Nothing to worry about here.

Nope.  Nothing to worry about here.

So, all that I’m left with now is acceptance, and a choice.  Do I encourage her obvious progression down the dark path, forever, will it dominate her destiny?  Or do I try and mold her into an anti-hero?  Your Wolverine, your Dexter, your Rorscach?  Clearly the Lawful Good alignment is just not on the table.  I mean…  she hid the batteries.  It’s obvious that one day she’s either going to rule the world, or reluctantly save it.

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