“… and she got hurt. I’m very upset with you.”
I can’t blame her. What was I thinking, letting my almost-three-year-old play in a lion cage? I must be a terrible father.
And yet, I have to probe a little deeper. Since this happened in a dream, I have to ask why she dreamed about me being a terrible father. Does she think I’m a terrible father? Or was this just a simple case of random synapses firing in her stressed brainpan?
“I was in jail so I wasn’t with you when it happened. I don’t know exactly how she got hurt.”
Well, think I, at least she’s dreaming that she’s a less-than-perfect parent, too.
***
This brings me to what I was originally going to post about the other day, and ended up sidetracked:
When I come home at night - or if I’m home and Tammy comes home with Cordelia - and the first thing I hear as the door opens is “Daddy? Daaaaddy…” it wraps my heart in a warm towel. Fresh-from-the-drier warm.
She laughs at my stupidest jokes. My silliest faces. My goofiest attempts at being entertaining. Stuff that would make another adult roll their eyes, or just walk away in irritation make my little girl laugh and giggle. Sometimes it is the greatest feeling in the world, knowing that even though I’m no comedian, my daughter thinks I am. Sometimes, however, I get neurotic about it and wonder if I’m giving her a bad example, instructing her on how to be funny, but doing it in a way that will get her shunned from the society of other children, her peers as she grows up.
And then I shrug it off. I can only be who I am, and if that ruins her, so be it. At least she’ll know that her daddy loved her and spent enough time with her to destroy her socially. It sure beats the alternative. Besides, if the only laughs I’m ever going to get come from my daughter, age 2, then I had better take advantage of it while I can.
When she’s in trouble, even if I’m the one who is mad at her (especially if I’m the one) she puts on her sad face and opens her arms and asks for a hug. Of course, I never deny her any hugs – I need them, too. The hugs are important, I think, even when she’s in trouble, so she knows she’s still loved and she has simply done something that was inappropriate or unacceptable (example: She likes to get a mouthful of water/juice/milk/etc. and spit it on the floor in fun and interesting patterns. I certainly don’t want to stifle her creativity, but the laminate floor isn’t water-proof, easy or cheap to replace, and frankly, the behavior is kind of gross).
But I’m her daddy, and she picks me over Tammy 80% of the time. It makes me feel good, and sad at the same time. Tammy is a good mom and deserves more than 20%. I suppose in time she’ll get more. Girls seem to gravitate towards moms as they get older and realize that dads are just dumb boys like all the rest.
1 comment:
Preston is totally a daddy's boy too and he chooses Will over me about 75% of the time. I've pinned the reasoning on the fact that he is the fun parent, and I am the disciplinarian. he is the one who is always throwing him in the air, chasing him, making him laugh, throwing balls with him. And I am the one who always says "Time to take a bath", or "let's go change your poopy diaper", or "No Preston please don't do that."
One of us has to say those things though. And yes Will does discipline Preston too but more often than not I am the task-getter, and he's the fun-getter.
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