Da, The Juicebringer

Day one, soloing with the two kids. All is well. We all had a great time today. A little park, a little lunch, and nice nap and all is right with the world.
I love being a Dad. Why? because to the children of my tribe (my kids) I am not just a mere man, I am Da, The Juicebringer.
I am summoned by a repetitive chant. Often the chant sounds much like, “Da App-bul Ju-se!, Da App-bul Ju-se!, Da App-bul Ju-se!, Da App-bul Juuuuu-seeeeee!!!!!!” As the crescendo builds, there may even be a short liturgical dance and banging of drums. If the chanting continues for too long, gnashing of teeth and rendering of garments will often follow. However, long before ceremony spins out of control I appear providing the gift of apple juice to the children of the tribe, bringing with me joy and happiness to quench the thirst those in my tribe.
Even the youngest of the tribe, understands the ancient power of chant. Very often the youngest will, begin to speak in tongues, in crude hymns calling for Ba Ba. She is wailing at the forces around her, tearing the quiet with her prayers for sustenance. Just when the wailing and wrenching can get no louder, Da will produce Ba Ba and Ba Ba will quiet the maelstrom. Da, the keeper of Ba Ba.
Like many pagan gods, I have many names and often serve many different needs of my tribe. I am also sometimes, knows as Da, the bug slayer. Da, the arbiter of nourishment. Da, the remote controller.

It has only been one day and I am already cracking up.
The horror, the horror. (And today was a good day.)