Hmmm…well my 7 yr. old daughter says I’m a nice guy. And she says I need to find a nice gal. (Ok, she didn’t actually say “gal”.)

“So Ms. Claire, what should I say about myself here?”

“Oh that’s easy Dad…tell her you love to watch iCarly, Hannah Montana, Drake & Josh...oh, and Spongebob.”

“I don’t know if any other people my age watch those shows, honey. What else can I say that doesn't have anything to do with TV?”

“Well, tell them that you’re the best Daddy in the whole world who could have stayed in warm, sunny California and not moved to cold, cloudy Kenosha when Mom got a new job...but you didn’t want to be one of those once-in-a-while “Disney Dad’s” and now we're freezing our behinds off...but we're together, so we’re really happy. And then say that you are really good at golf and not so good ice-skating. And that you aren’t really a good cook because all you make is grilled cheese and spaghetti. Every time I stay for dinner it's either spaghetti or grilled cheese. Grilled cheese or spaghetti. Spaghetti or…”

“Ok, got it sweetie, thank you." (She’s forgetting about the frozen pizza rolls, so it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds.)

"What kind of a person should I say I want to meet?"

“Geez Dad, that’s easy…she has to be nice. Hey, how tall did you say you were?"

"5 feet, 10 inches"

"Is that tall, cause you're not really super tall Dad."

"Well, they didn't really specify if it's with or without shoes. Too bad they don't have a space to put in broad shoulders."

"What kind of shoulders?"

"Nevermind. Is there anything else we should talk about?"

"Did you tell them you were 53?"

"Yes Claire...mainly because I know if I didn't, you would. I'm still not sure why you feel it's so important to tell absolutely everyone you speak to how old I am."
"Hi, I'm Claire...my Dad's 53." "Which rink is the open skate on? My Dad's 53."
"Excuse me, where is the girls room? My Dad's 53."

"Okay, okay...I'll tell 'em your 39. But you have to say I'm 10."

"Deal. Time for dinner...do you want spaghetti or grilled cheese?"

The thought of sitting in the back of a restaurant when the waiter comes to tell us we have to leave because we lost track of time talking sounds like a nice evening...