Daddy's Little Girls

Dylan is one of three boys in his family of origin. He knows boys and brothers. That is all. When we found out we were pregnant he wanted boys…it’s what he knew. Well, karma is a bitch eh? Three daughters later he is still alive. Completely bald, but alive.

Sometimes I feel bad for him. More often than not I just laugh at him while I help him navigate the waters of the Estrogen Ocean. When they were little it was easy. All three are daddy’s girls but now as we approach the teen years he needs a little more guidance, support and information…and booze.  Lot’s of booze. I could write an entire book on Dylan’s interaction with the girls. First bras, first dances, first crushes, make up, boy bands and hormones. Oh Lord the hormones. He doesn’t get it, which usually leads to heavy dose of arm flapping and some tears. To be clear, the tears are from him…not the girls.

Truth be told is that although he originally wanted children with outside plumbing, they have had him wrapped around their little fingers since the day they were born. He is a daddy to little girls…now this is all he knows. Years later he is still wrapped around said sticky little fingers, but he needs to realize they are also playing him like a fiddle in a country fair.

We had a late Thanksgiving dinner last night with my entre side of the family. Let’s just call it Turkey Dinner with a Heaping Side Dish of Crazy. Dylan seemed a bit quiet most of the night but granted we were rushed trying to fit in sports and errands before the shit show…err I mean family gathering. He had offered to go grocery shopping earlier in the day. Nice right? Well he also offered to take the two older girls with him. Some daddy-daughter time if you will. Silly silly boy.

The time they were gone did not correlate with the size of the grocery list. It should have been my first sign something was off. I was a wee bit concerned, but was too busy basking in my one child quiet house to dig any deeper into my slight panic. I did notice when he got home that his face was a little redder than usual and I could see his heartbeat in his neck…but we had to rush off to dinner.

After dinner and a glass of wine Dylan began to describe his shopping experience with the basement trolls. Through exasperated breaths, some slight spitting and an abundance of flappy arms marked with a concerning yet entertaining repetition this is what unfolded:

Dylan described them getting ready for a trip to the grocery store like it was prom night. After an hour of prep time they were in finally in the car.

Olivia: “Dad, I’m out of mascara.”

Dylan: “I’m not buying you mascara, its not on my list.”

Olivia:  “Oh, but we are going to the grocery store and its cheaper there, we should just buy some anyway.”

Dylan: “No Mascara, please don’t mention it again.”

Olivia: “Ok, but I really need some. Do you think we can just look?”

Peyton: “Where are we going? Are we done yet? This is sooooo boring.”  <insert eye rolling here>

Dylan: “Just get the cart”

Girls: “Mom always gets the cart”

As Dylan walked through the sliding doors into the land of grocery mayhem on a Sunday ready to complete his mission, he was greeted by Miss. Olivia who had now rushed into the store ahead of him and cut him off back at the entrance with…low and behold a new mascara in her hands.

Olivia: “Look dad, I found some mascara and it was on sale. We should buy it right?”

At that point Dylan started chasing her with the cart through the store as Peyton was hanging off the side like a monkey snorting in glee.

Dylan: “Girls go pick two boxes of cereal from the isle two over please.”

Girls complaining: “But…its...so….far. Are we done yet?”

<Insert Dylan stomping feet/flapping entire body here>

Girls: “Dad! Stop it, you are embarrassing us”.

Ten minutes later they arrive back empty handed explaining the cereal was not in the isle three over.

Dylan: “I said two isles over. Or you could just look up at the large descriptive signs hanging over the isles Do you have any brains??? Its cereal ladies not brain surgery. Where have you been for the last ten minutes?”

Girls: “Looking at mascara. Can we go now? How much loooonger?”

Dylan: “Peyton, go and get some popcorn please.”

Peyton: “Well I can’t go alone, Olivia come with me.”

Dylan is perplexed by this as they cannot stand to be beside each other for two minutes in a row yet cannot go anywhere alone. After he sends them he listens as they fight in the next isle over what kind of popcorn they each want. He puts his head down and pulls his hoody over his shiny and now glistening bald head. The girls come back with two choices of popcorn and begin to proceed to fight over what kind daddy should buy. Dylan throws up his hands and puts both choices in the cart.

I explain to him that this was their master plan all along and he had just been outwitted by 12 years olds.

He told me he stopped by the liquor store on the way home.

Dylan continued to go on for a while about the lack of testosterone around him and the impossibility of pre-teenage girls. I think the room lost interest but it was good for him to get it out.

I stared at him thoughtfully during this one of many Dylan rants. I tuned him out as per usual but in this moment I was thankful for what an amazing father he is.  They indeed will forever be daddy’s little girls. He will make it through….hormones, make up, boy crushes and all.

However, I do not envy any boy that is brave enough to ask for a date.

Xoxo

J