Super Dad - or not

I finally got a semi-creative idea to spend a little time with my 2 oldest children. Last week Dagger Jr. complained that he didn't get to stay up with me to watch my pre-recorded (YAY DVR!) Dallas Cowboys football game.

In addition The Boss and I have banned the children from eating outside of the kitchen - specifically the living room (think spills, crumbs and stains on carpet and couch.) Never mind that they try to sneak food out of the kitchen on a regular basis.

Thus, it was with great excitement, that I came up with an idea all by myself (insert Atta Boy here.) I would bring home a scrum-diddly-umptious Banana Foster's Cheesecake for dessert to share with them - in the living room (blanket covering the floor, mind you - I'm not suicidal) - and begin watching the football game. Greatness!

The reaction... my moment of paternal bliss where my children realize that I DON'T rely on The Boss for everything; that I do care, and I'm here to help them have a good time too... turned into Meltdown City.

Maybe my delivery was all wrong, maybe it was the fact that I had to turn off the Wii. All I know is that Dagger Jr. threw himself on the floor, got himself grounded and wound up in tears. I hate Mario.

My daughter at least tried some of the dessert before politely saying she was done. I've never seen the girl pass up dessert before.

Survey SAYS.... Dad sucks rotten eggs.