Dads and Daughters

I have two daughters of my own, so this post by Shaun Groves put a grin on my face, then a lump in my throat, and finally a tear in my eye.  I’ll get you started with the smile, but to get the lump and the tear you’ll have to read the whole thing at his blog:

“I’m the restaurant. What do you want for lunch?”

“I’m the baby spider and you’re the Mommey spider and we are at the park sliding. You say, ‘Wah!’ and I say, ‘Ah, poor, Mommy. Are you thirsty?'”

“I’m the big sister and you’re the baby brother and you’re sick so I will take your temperature. Do you want a popsicle or pizza, little brother?”

I’m never myself when I play with Penelope – now almost four. And I’m never in good condition: Always hungry, thirsty or sick. Also, I always have to answer questions: Questions about what dress I like, how my tummy feels, and what I want to eat.

Of course I’m indifferent on the dress question, my tummy generally feels just fine and I’m not hungry; but this is play. Talking is play. For a girl.

In a girl’s hands green beans engage in conversation with carrots about purses and parties. Ponies dialogue about their favorite foods and also where the castle is. When Penelope sits in my lap her hands become baby spiders and mine become daddy and mommy spiders and there’s an exchange of a great many words: About the grocery store and the juice baby spider spilled there and also about getting lost and about me – I mean, Daddy spider – looking for baby spider and about the drive home after we’re reunited and what we will cook for dinner…

Read the rest and see pictures HERE.

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