My poor daughter…nearly 11, headed unwillingly towards puberty, and she’s got me for a dad. Growing up with just a younger brother I’m generally unaware of the sensitivities of young girls (or older girls, or women, or men, or children for that matter), what with the changing bodies and all. My wife has tried to explain; my daughter has tried to explain but I just didn’t get it…until tonight.
A couple of weeks ago I made some crack about my daughter starting to develop and she did not appreciate it, nor did my wife. She’s scared (my daughter that is, though not more than I am that’s for sure) and she’s having a good time being a kid. Why ruin the fun with puberty? She does not want to acknowledge the inevitable despite me throwing books at her like, “The Care & Keeping of You: The Body Book for Girls (from American Girls)”, “The ‘What’s Happening to My Body?’ Book For Girls”, and, “Mommy, Why Are Old Guys Following Me Around The Mall Now?”
Tonight we were squeezing dinner in between an orthodontist appointment (don’t ask me how the hell I can afford braces for 2 kids and flying lessons…I’m not sure myself) and rock climbing class. My daughter was dressed for class in sweat pants and a tank top. While the tank top has an unneccessary shelf bra built in, it was a bit large and gapped on the side.
Well, I’m not particularly modest myself but my daughter? I’d like to make a stop at Burkas-R-Us en route to the convent but though I am master of the house and lord of all I survey I don’t always get my way.
In my direct yet clueless manner I said, at the dinner table, entire family assembled, “Hey Iz, you need to change that shirt before we go – you don’t want to be showing off your little boobies at the gym.” Yes, in retrospect I see the error of my ways. That’s the beauty of being me…I see a lot in retrospect. Perhaps I should take time to introspect and be more circumspect, but on the other hand my social stylings have reduced time with the in-laws by over 90%.
As you might imagine this comment didn’t go over well. It kind of killed my daughter’s appetite and her mood. As I was changing for the gym she came to my room to talk. She was in tears, upset that I made the comment in front of her brothers. She’s scared, doesn’t want to change, and doesn’t want to think about it at all. I felt horrible…Isabelle is my first born, my only girl, and I’ve always been close with her (while Jack bonded more with his mother when he was younger).
I assured her that she would always be my princess and that while I wish I could stop time right now, we’d always be close no matter how much she grows up or how decrepit I get. Most importantly I assured her that I would never make jokes or references to anything that starts sticking out of her body. After much hugging and many I love you’s I told her I needed to change and if she didn’t leave right then I’d strip down in front of her and scar her for life.
She fled and the rest of the night was back to normal…just a dad and his little girl.
Sorry baby, your dad’s a dope and does stuff like that without thinking. One thing I do know…I’m never showing you this blog, at least for 10-15 years.