Which dad doesn’t enjoy a bit of goofy pantomime for his little princess? My two favourites are “look-mummy’s-undies-are-my-headband” and “ooh-ooh-I’m-admiral-diaper-head” (for my non-North American readers please substitute “nappy” for “diaper” and forgive me for selling out with my vocabulary… although I hope you gave me some credit for using “favourites” rather than “favorites”… although to be honest, my spell check is US English which means that I often have no idea what I’m doing.) Well, let’s just say that after a somewhat hilarious (note: it wan’t hilarious) miscommunication between husband and wife, I shant be playing admiral-diaper-head again on account of the mental trauma I sustained after slamming a somewhat soiled diaper on my forevermore-tainted cranium (note: it was poopy man… like… really poopy… you know?… I put poo on my head… actual poo… and it got in my hair and stuff… that’s just wrong, like really wrong… you just don’t get over that sort of thing, it stays with you, it haunts you!) The only solace I could take is that my daughter found my squealing and head slapping, and my wife’s laughing (and video taping) hilarious and I swear to god actually slapped her thigh, hillbilly style, while tears of joy where streaming down her face. Given that Admiral Poopy Head wont be coming back, I better go rummage around in my wife’s underwear drawer for some inspiration for my next performance. After all, my audience now has some pretty high expectations for me to live up to. Wish me luck!