‘Never’ has arrived at my house

I’ve made declarations many times, and most of them because of something my parents did or said over 30 years ago.  ‘I’ll NEVER dress like that!’  ‘I’ll NEVER say that to my kids!’  I can actually remember making these proclamations with the conviction of Mel Gibson in Braveheart.  “FREEDOM!”  Freedom from doing things like mom and dad, freedom to be the world’s coolest adult and, eventually, its most understanding parent: this was my decree.  Others might age and grow odd in the eyes of the young, but by the grace of God, not I!  NEVER!

‘Never’ has come to my house.  It didn’t make a big scene, either.  I had no idea it had arrived, nor how long it had been here when I finally noticed, but there’s no doubt that ‘never’ is here.  I first noticed ‘never’ out by the mailbox one afternoon.  Working from home, I’m no longer compelled to conform to the world’s view that you HAVE to change out of your sleeping attire in order to be productive.  I’m a husband, a father, and a mortgage-holder, so leave me alone.

‘Never’ appeared wearing black dress socks, slippers, Mickey Mouse boxers and a too-tight T-shirt, standing at my mailbox.  Remember ‘jolting’ awake in class, feeling as if everybody else was staring at you?  That’s how I felt, standing at my mailbox, realizing I’d unknowingly (or subconsciously, if you wanna go there) dressed like my father.  Here’s the personal revelation that kept me awake that night: this wasn’t the first time.  And no, I do NOT want to talk about it anymore.

As the kids grew older, ‘never’ appeared ever more frequently.  Many times he came in the form of a Jeopardy game show answer (“WHAT is wrong with you?” or, “HOW does your mind work??”).  The mother of all ‘never’ moments, the one that I knew I could never EVER utter is tossed around like confetti now.  “Because I’m your father and I said so!”  Yes, I know.  Don’t judge me.

There are also many undeclared ‘never’ moments.  These are the things that you wouldn’t imagine, couldn’t imagine in your wildest nightmares ever saying. Thinking about them would be like buying a padlock for a shed you don’t have to protect things you don’t own: why would you do it?  But, nevertheless, they pop up everywhere.  “Is that your underwear?  Then why is it on your head?”  I never imagined I’d have to say that to anybody anywhere.  “Don’t bite the bottom of your shoe!”  Nope, never crossed my mind.  “Yes, it’s yours, but not everyone wants to see it, ok??”  Not unless I moved to New York city would I have imagined a need for that one, but I underestimated what kids can make you say.

My kids have broken down my social guards.  If my socks don’t match, it’s usually because I was busy making sure my sons’ did.  If the inside of the car looks like McDonalds after a birthday party, it’s because at some point, having a happy meal was the most important thing in the world to somebody in the back seat.  And when my wife and I giggle at something that makes my daughter roll her eyes, we just keep it up until she gives in and giggles with us.  And when kids make their ‘never’ proclamations, I just smile.  You see: I won’t make those anymore.  Never.

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Keeping my prince card

My daughter is 9, which automatically makes her a recovering Disney princess devotee.  At least that’s what I’m hearing from moms who also have rooms bombarded with Ariel pillows and Jasmine bedspreads.  “It doesn’t last forever.”  They deliver this information like a verbal pat on my back with a reassuring smile.  They’re sick of listening to “A Whole New World” and “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, and mending all those dress-up gowns is one more chore added to a never-ending list.  And I get this, I truly do.  But it’s a little different for a dad.

At least it’s different for this dad.  It’s not just because I work from home, either.  The pinnacle of the princess period ended before I started writing from home and I see only the remnants of it now.  But unlike my wife and all those other moms, I miss it.  I miss seeing it go because of what everyone swears will follow: the revocation of my prince card.  Oh, it’s inevitable.  I’ll be replaced because it’s the natural order of things.  I hate the natural order sometimes.

Every princess needs a prince or else she’s just playing make believe.  Now, you have to understand that I waited 20 years to get my prince card, and it’s not an easy thing to come by.  It’s only awarded to a father by his daughter, and then only if she’s really into playing the part of a princess.  Nobody was more into being a princess than my girl.

I had two suit jackets that hung in her closet: one I grew too chubby to wear in public and another purchased at Goodwill specifically for dressing up.  Mom added dramatic brocade and gold buttons, plus plenty of ribbons that no doubt had been won for doing all sorts of valorous deeds while rescuing distressed damsels.  At a moment’s notice, I could transform myself from dad to whatever prince she required.  Mom would call me from work and give me the heads up.  Prince Charming for her Cinderella, John Smith for her Pocahontas, and Aladdin for her Jasmine: whatever prince was appropriate, that was me for the evening.  I’d arrive home and there she was, literally sitting by the door waiting for me.  I’d put on my suit jacket and I was my baby girl’s prince.

Every daughter is a princess in her father’s eyes, but not every dad gets to be a real go-to-the-ball, glass-slipper finding prince.  I did, and I loved it.  We danced and we drank grape juice out of wine glasses at the Royal Balls held in our tiny living room.  We greeted the invisible guests: we held ballroom dancing contests that we ALWAYS won, and a reporter who looked suspiciously like my wife was always there to interview us afterwards.  It was born of Disney’s films and my daughter’s imagination.  It was all make believe, but…I was her prince.  Me.

I woke up one morning and realized the princess parties had stopped.  It’s been years since I wore my special jacket.  No more little feet on top of mine as we dance.  She’s so smart and so beautiful and…so much bigger now.  And it hit me hard that everybody was right.  Things do change and I’m just dad again.  She’s too cool now and I’m…well, I’m just dad.  That makes me sigh one of those shuddering sighs that get stuck in your throat and make your eyes moist.

But I’m not turning in my prince card, not yet.  Last week, my daughter invited me to have lunch with her.  At her school.  In front of her friends, even.  I was prepared for all the dramatic eye rolling every time I said a dad thing that would prove how un-prince-like I really was.  It happens, they grow up.  Get used to it, dad.

But it never happened.  She clung to my arm as we walked to the cafeteria.  She smiled at me with the same excited blue eyes that melted me when we danced and I realized I’m still her prince, even if the title has changed.  How big can a smile get?  I thought I knew, but then she proved me wrong by inviting me to join her for lunch again this week.

So I’m keeping my prince card…and this goofy smile shows no signs of disappearing anytime soon.

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