I have a major problem: I have a daughter. I know that sounds horrible, but ever since my wife told me that we were going to have a girl (I was underway and unable to attend the ultrasound), one of my primary concerns has been how I’m going to keep her safe (aka dateless) until she’s around 32 years old.
This job is going to be even harder for a few reasons. First of all, she’s blonde. “That’s no big deal,” you might say. Of course, it’s a big deal. Do you realize what that means? It means that she’s….blonde. That’s catastrophic.
Second of all, she’s always been very tall for her age. She has hovered right around the 90th percentile in height pretty much since she was borne. Do you see the picture that I’m painting here? These are pretty scary thoughts for me.
I’ve already seen glimpses of my hellish future. I volunteer at her kindergarten on Mondays, and I’ve noticed a few disturbing trends. Once she was playing a game with a few other kids and one of the boys got up to leave, but before doing so, he felt the need to kiss her on the head. There’s another boy who decided to invite her to his birthday. In itself that’s no big deal except for the fact that his parents told him he could only invite one girl. And all this time you probably thought I was overreacting.
There are a few things that I have going for me though. First of all, my wife and I both had blonde hair when we were kids, but it faded to brown for me in my late teens and earlier than that for my wife. My hopes are that that particular gene will kick in sometime around Thursday.
My greatest hope lies in the fact that she is really smart. I’m going to nurture that intelligence until she is so smart that she intimidates all the boys. I think that will be my saving grace.
I do wonder how am I going to react when she’s 15 (or heavens forbid younger) and boys start calling and showing up at the door though. Am I going to be outwardly threatening? Am I going to be calm and reserved yet still threatening. (Hint: the answer involves being threatening.) Maybe I’ll go straight up old school and sit on the front porch with a shotgun.
How are the other dads out there handling this problem? Let’s hear some pointers.