Tuesday, June 15, 2010
When my 4-year-old Abby wakes up in the morning, I greet her and say, “Good morning sweetheart.”
Her response? “Where’s Daddy?” Every time.
Abby is what you call a Daddy’s Girl. In her world, Daddy rocks. He can do anything.
Mom? Not so much.
Never mind that I dress her, feed her, read her books, and put her to bed. Daddy is fun. Daddy lets her eat junk. Daddy lets her sit in a booster seat instead of a car seat. Daddy lets her watch TV.
Daddy this. Daddy that. It’s really quite exhausting.
Last week I was taking Abby to preschool. (Daddy usually takes her.) During our 10-minute drive, she constantly moaned, “I want Daddy.” Then she started criticizing my driving. “Daddy usually goes that way, not this way.”
Just what I need. Another back seat driver.
When I walked her into school, her teachers exclaimed, “Her daddy usually spins her upside down five times before he says goodbye. He’s kinda started a tradition.”
I didn’t want to disappoint them all, but I wasn’t about to spin her upside down. I’d probably twist my ankle in my high heels and drop her on her head. No thanks, I’m not Daddy.
I have other qualities she’ll eventually appreciate. Wait until her hormones kick in. Wait until she wants to go shopping. Wait until her first boyfriend appears on the scene and her beloved Daddy chases him away.
(Besides, my 6-year-old Anna already thinks I’m the bomb, so my ego isn’t completely bruised.)
For now, I’m happy to let Abby be Daddy’s Girl. After all, how many little girls get a chance to have their daddies as their heroes?