How I became Sharkdaddy

Standing on the ladder with the picture in one hand, hammer in the other, and two nails between my teeth, I almost lost it when the phone on the desk below erupted with an alarming squeal.  Luckily, my previous trampoline training paid off, and I landed on my feet.

“Hello!”

“Hey dad, you have Wi-Fi, right?”

“Ye-e-es.”

“Great!  There’s an awesome new application for your I-phone.  We can play chess online. When you download, you’ll just need to select a username.”

“Well then, if we’re going into combat, my username will be Shark.”

Okay, so I got the game on my iPhone, but of course many of the forms of Shark had already been taken.  Then I remembered the discussion my wife and I had recently about what I wanted our new grandchildren to call me.

“What are my choices?” I asked.

“How about Poppa?”

“Nope.”

“Poppy?”

“Definitely not.  Maybe I could be Big Daddy.”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Just not, end of discussion.”

So I lost that argument.  Maybe a little synthesis could provide some retribution. Aha, of course, Sharkdaddy.  It felt so good that later that day, when I logged on to writing.com, it was only natural that my WDC handle should change to fit my new found persona.

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