MyThreeDaughters

I have this friend, let’s call him Bob, since that’s his name, who has a saying about when somebody does something stupid. “Does he not know the meaning of the word embarrass?” Bob will say. Almost always, the answer is an obvious “no.”
So I was thinking of Bob yesterday. Fontaine has been carrying three dolls around and saying they are her children. There are the twins, plus the baby, Sofe (Sophie, phonetically spelled).
Fontaine said yesterday was Sofe’s birthday, and all day was waiting for us to gather for the party. It finally went down around 4 p.m., right as a real guy named Tom had finished building a handrail for our new entrance. I had told Tom to come inside, I wanted to ask him about one more job. So he came in and there we were dressed for Sofe’s party. Everyone was in Royal Wear: Fontaine was the Princess Queen, Elizabeth was the Fairy Princess (purple gown, etc), the poor one-year old had been strapped into a tutu and a tiara, and my wife found a vintage gown and, by default, was declared the “Plain Princess.”
Being the only guy, I got to wear the Brave Knight costume, a fake chainmail hat and cape. I looked kind of like the guy in the picture (only better, of course, because I had Grammici shorts on).
So I was telling Tom that we needed a door mounted on a closet in my study, and I was wearing the Brave Knight outfit, and asking Tom about how to measure for the door we needed put up.
Tom was just answering my questions, rather the Brave Knight’s questions, with a dead serious look on his face. He never smiled, so I assume that meant he thought I was completely nuts. Or maybe drunk.
That’s about when I thought about my friend Bob.
I assume Bob would conclude that I have no idea the meaning of the word embarrass.
But, you know, a Brave Knight would do just about anything for his daughter. Especially if she’s a dictatorial Queen.