FATHERHOOD 101: All dads have their blond moments

Blonde moment. Doing or saying something that even by dumb dad standards, hits a new “LOL”.

For my father, every day is blonde day. When he calls, and the conversation ends, he always forgets to hang up. On several occasions, I have been entertained by sounds of cows mowing and birds chirping in the background; and my conscience pricked after eavesdropping on snippets of dialogue.

All dads have blonde moments; whether they live in the west or in Western Kenya. Last week, I read on the internet about a father who accidentally recorded his entire vacation the wrong way: as one long selfie.

“Evan Griffin’s dad visited Las Vegas, he borrowed his son’s GoPro to capture the sights. Things didn’t go exactly as planned.

Griffin never told his dad how to use his GoPro kit and assumed he could figure it out on his own. Upon returning from his trip, it became overly apparent that technology doesn’t come easy to his dad.

His father mistakenly pointed the camera backwards – at himself – during the entire trip. He recorded various angles of his face rather than the Vegas landmarks he had thought he was capturing.”

WHO’S THE DUD NOW?

In my bachelor pad, I used a paraffin stove. I called it gari ya moshi, (train) because after putting it out, it let plumes of suffocating black smoke. To save my crib from the smoke bomb, I would extinguish the stove outdoors. The first day I bought a table top gas cooker, I only realised my dumbness when I reached the kitchen door with the cooker, after unplugging the regulator.

When we bought our first refrigerator eight years ago, I did not know the purring sound was normal. Fortunately, the shop assistant from the supermarket where I bought it left me his phone number. Just in case. I called him first thing in the morning, thinking I had been suckered. 

“Nothing’s wrong with the fridge,” he gave me his verdict, as Tenderoni gave me who’s-the-dud looks.  

Recently, we bought a cooker. At the supermarket, the gizmo guy explained how to light it without a matchstick. After the cooker was delivered, I told Tenderoni to stand back and watch. This was my moment. I flicked the button. Nothing happened. Twice. Nth times. Nothing. I called Gizmo Guy. “Boss, this thing is broken,” I griped.

Gizmo Guy: “Has the cooker been plugged to the wall socket?”

Blondie: “No.”

Tenderoni’s expression: who’s the dud now? 

LAST AMONG LATE ADOPTERS

Four months ago, Tenderoni travelled upcountry. Among other gifts, she bought my father a new mobile phone. He had called weeks earlier, telling his daughter-in-law that his phone had become a clunker.

“Buy me a phone that has a feature that allows me to see who is calling,” he gave the specs of the gadget he wanted.

“Dad’s the last among late adopters,” I told Tenderoni when she told me about the 4G request.

Around 2007, I tried sending my parents money through mobile phone money transfer service. My father, a technophobe, still lived in the eighties; when money transfer was done through Postal Corporation or a trusted relative. 

“No. Don’t. The money will get lost,” dad insisted, “send it through Posta.”  

Mama thought fast. I sent her the dough, through dad’s phone. Only after she had withdrawn the stash did she squeal. The next week, when I called home, dad lectured me about the endless advantages of MPesa, and I was like, “I hear you, Michael Joseph”.  

SEX TAPE

Our daughter is a breathing manual. She is chop-chop at learning how electronics and gadgets work. Give her a phone, and she will reverse-engineer it. While I still have blonde moments operating our digital TV, baby girl can do it in her sleep.

Don’t blame me. Back in the day, our red and black Great Wall analogue telly had three buttons. Talk about simple days. Nowadays TVs come with remote controls that have millions of buttons.

And so it goes …

“I still haven’t learnt how to answer this phone,” dad said yesterday when I called, after I asked why he lets it ring for anniversaries, until dear mama can hear it in her grave.

When I go upcountry, I will take a peek at dad’s phone.

Unlike GoPro Dad, he has accidentally recorded a sex tape, I’m sure. Heck, pop’s passionate about his new beloved female, Nya’Yala getting little ones.

And the sex tape is? The vet putting Nya’Yala the cow through artificial insemination. Tee-hee!

Techie:

Our daughter is a breathing manual. She is super-fast at learning how electronics and gadgets work.