Little Girls

As a husband, a father of two grown daughters, and a grandfather of a teen age grand daughter, I figure I’ve learned a little about girls over the last two thirds of my life.

Little girls are absolutely wonderful. They tug at Daddy’s heartstrings and regularly play their favorite song on them. Daddy just smiles, hums, and does whatever it is they want. Oh I’ve eaten pretend cakes, drank hot tea at play tea parties, baby sat with dolls upon request, and occasionally turned tears into smiles.

I learned early on that when my daughters teamed up with my wife, my protests were only symbolic. There was no way I could win. But, I still had to put up a good front to preserve the sanctity of manhood. In the end I would either acquiesce or pretend to compromise....sometimes I would even pout about the outcome.

And though they didn’t know it, I could hear the giggles from the other room as they bragged about their victories. I was pleased to help make them happy.

Then they start to grow up. A friend who had daughters older than mine once confided that I need to cherish each good night kiss because pretty soon they would be too old to want to give Daddy a good night kiss. And he was right. I locked them all away in my memory bank and feel much richer as a result.

Daddies don’t always understand their little girls. Boys are different; aloof....independent....happy in the moment. Little girls are hell bent on growing into women. They wear their mother’s high heels as soon as they can get feet into them. They play with purses, comb their hair, play with make up, and play house.

And then there comes the early teen years when they begin to practice their bitching. I learned early on that little girls quit smiling when they turn 13 and frown for at least two years before rejoining the human race. Nothing is right. A hair is out of place. The jeans just don’t look right. This doesn’t go with that. Doesn’t matter that it was purchased as a set. They have no self confidence.

If I looked at them, they would scowl and ask, “What’s wrong now?” They never figured I might be wanting to pay them a compliment. So there’s a lesson for all you would be Daddies....give the compliment before looking....oh how demeaning can you get? Hey anything for peace and tranquility.

About the age of 13, they put on so much make up that they look like old retired streetwalkers. I remember once having three of them in the back seat of the car. I looked into the rear view mirror and noticed that my daughter looked like an Indian in war paint. I didn’t even look around but said, “Get out. Go inside and take some of that make up off.” All three of them got out and re-emerged about ten minutes later looking more like the teenagers they were.

Another tip for Daddies. When you have little girls in the car, play whatever music they like. They will all sing to it and will remain reasonably happy until you can unload them at their destination.

Then there’s the stage when they don’t want to ride the school bus any more, and want you to drive them to school, but they want you to let them out where the other kids can’t see you. Then they stroll on up to school trying to impress their friends that they didn’t ride the bus and they didn’t come with their parents. I guess it was the cool thing to do.

The early teen years with little girls will wear on you like sand in a desert storm. Even if everything is perfect, they will find something wrong. Feelings are easily bruised, and the favorite expression is, “I’m bored” as if you should whip up some name brand entertainment to their liking within the next fifteen seconds or all hell is fixing to break loose.

Now as adults, my daughters still play their favorite tune on Daddy’s heartstrings and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Little girls are absolutely wonderful.