Fifty Shades of Pig

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Fifty Shades of Pig

Shannon Carpenter, Lee’s Summit, MO

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If you look closely, and perhaps from the side, it kind of looks like a pig. And by that, I mean it is pink and has what could be generously called ears. Kind of. The eyes are certainly off. One eye looks like it’s growing out of the pig’s head, the other is lopsided and by its nose. If you have ever seen the movie Goonies and the character Sloth, that is pretty much what I have drawn on this kid’s face. But it is a pig, hand to God, it is a pig. Or it is supposed to be a pig.

I wasn’t meant to do face painting. On so many levels, my very being is against it. I have big sausage fingers, and I often scrape my Neanderthal knuckles by just making the bed. I am made for making big sweeping movements, wrapping arms around little individuals for big hugs or perhaps moving a piano down a flight of stairs. I am not good at detailed, minute movements.

The dexterity required to paint a pig on a little girl’s face requires control I just don’t have. If I were a brain surgeon, I would have killed everyone. But if you need a rock moved, I’m probably your guy.

Oh, and I have zero artistic talent. I would probably need that as well as finger dexterity.

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I wasn’t supposed to be doing any face painting. That wasn’t in the cards when I signed up to volunteer at my kids’ school carnival. No, I was to run the inflatable obstacle course. That was the deal. At my kids’ school, that is what the dad volunteers do. I take a kid, throw him inside, and then hide his shoes when he’s not looking. That’s the job you want me for.

I had just finished my shift at the inflatable obstacle course. My kids were still having a good time spending their little game tickets, so I sat down in the gym with one of the other dads I see twelve times a week because our kids do a lot of the same things. I like him. He’s a cool dude.

That is where I planned to spend the remainder of my evening. Then I would go home and have a glass of wine with my sausage fingers. Perhaps some cheese. I’m fancy.

However, I was hijacked. The volunteer coordinator rushed up to us. “I need your help,” she pleaded. What is it? Is someone stuck in a tree? Is there a rock that needs to be moved?! Yes, I will help. Let’s go, sidekick. Let’s go help! I lack only a cape and a secret identity.

“Okay, you two sit here. There are the stencils, and there is the face paint,” she said after delivering us to the face painting station.

I thought it was a joke. Ha Ha, good one. Where is the air conditioning unit you want me to lift up?

Nope, not a joke. Apparently, we were short of volunteers for this carnival. Something about an “ice storm coming.” I don’t know; I just go where I’m needed. Like Batman. Or a brain surgeon. So now I am face painting.

The little girl ran up and wanted a pig, oh a pig would be so great! I did not have a stencil for a pig. I tried to convince her that perhaps a nice skull and cross bones would be better suited to our situation. Nope, she wanted a pig.

So I gave my best shot at a pig, and when it was done, it looked like a poor science experiment you want to put out of its misery and then stuff into a little formaldehyde jar.

“Now do a kitty cat on the other side!” she said.

It turns out that my kitty cat looks a lot like my pigs, only the kitty cat is somewhat orange and appears to have a mustache.

The next kid wanted a unicorn. I suggested a tank or perhaps an American flag? Nope, she wanted a unicorn. For those that don’t know, a unicorn looks like a pig but it’s white, and it has a weird spear coming out of its forehead. I nailed that unicorn.

On and on this went. Different shades of pigs really. I assumed I would get better at this as time went on and I got more practice. Nope, my different arrays of pigs pretty much just changed shades.

“I want Batman,” a little boy asked. Hell yes, I can give you some Batman! After a good ten minutes, I gave him Batman Pig. Close enough.

I also did one mustache, you would think that a bearded man could do this pretty well. Not so much. My mustache looked worse than a pig, like some poor soul suffering from leprosy.

My son came to my booth and wanted his face painted. He said he would let me choose because he did not know what he wanted. I love my boy, I really do. So I gave my son horns. Or to the untrained observer, red pigs.

It is important to me that the kids see me involved with their school and activities. I know it sets a good example and it also shows them I am interested in what is going on in their lives. I don’t want to just be a casual observer, I want to be a part of them.

Sometimes that means I coach a team or run an inflatable bounce house. And other times that means I paint the creatures from the Island of Dr. Moreau onto the faces of their classmates.

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Shannon Carpenter is a strapping older gentleman who enjoys the occasional donut topped with chocolate. And sprinkles, yeah sprinkles. Sprinkles are the bomb. As an at-home dad for the last nine years, he vows to take all comers in the speed diaper changing challenge. Bring your A game. Read more of his adventures, with his three kids, at www.hossmanathome.com. Currently represented by The Kepner Agency.

Hogan Hilling is a nationally recognized and OPRAH approved author of 12 published books. Hilling has appeared on Oprah. He is the creator of the DADLY book series and the “#WeLoveDads” and “#WeLoveMoms” Campaigns, which he will launch in early 2018. He is also the owner of Dad Marketing, a first of its kind consultation firm on how to market to dads. He is also the founder of United We Parent. Hilling is also the author of the DADLY book series and first of its kind books. The first book is about marketing to dads “DADLY Dollar$” and two coffee table books that feature dads and moms. “DADLY Dads: Parents of the 21st Century” and “Amazing Moms: Parents of the 21st Century.” Hilling is the father of three children and lives in southern California.

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Originally published in Dads Behaving DADLY 2: 72 More Truths, Tears, and Triumphs of Modern Fatherhood Copyright © 2015 Motivational Press. Reprinted with permission.

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