Tuesday, February 7, 2012

It's Not Like I Haven't Tried

My daughter is growing up. She turned 6 just a few months ago. I don't feel 6 years older, but it is obvious that time has passed and she is growing up.

She was my little girl until she started liking Miley Cyrus. Well, to be fair, she like Hannah Montana - but you say tomato, I say tomato. Wow...that phrase just doesn't have the same effect when it's in the written word.

Anyhow, M graduated from watching Nick Jr. to The Disney Channel a short time ago. This was a rite of passage that she initiated on her own. It was so much easier when I could turn the T.V. on for an hour in the morning, enjoy some coffee, check some emails, and know that Nickelodeon would not air something I wouldn't want M to see. Disney, on the other hand, isn't always appropriate for a 6 year old.

 A father doesn't mind (so much) their daughters emulating the image on the left. The image on the right, however...well, not unless you've always dreamed of your daughter posing with ducklips and looking like a whore.

I don't want my daughter to be a whore.

My standard reply to most things is "Not until you're 16." My wife says that's what her parents always told her when she was younger. Makeup, certain clothing, dating...all waited until she was 16. Who are we kidding - no it didn't. She would wear baggy sweatshirts in August weather to cover the tiny tank top underneath. 

My wife and I have exchanged stories of the things we did when we were younger. Through this sharing of information we hope that we have an adequate amount of counter-intelligence which we can use against our children. We also have an intricate network of spies planted throughout the city whose sole duty is to observe and report.

It's soon to be 14 years that our son has been on this earth. If we didn't catch him in the act of misbehaving, we found out about it shortly after it happened. More than once we've heard "How did you know?!"

Because, my dear boy, as hard as it is to believe, we were once your age too. We've either already tried it, thought of it, or came up with a better version than you.

So, because of all of this, I have come to the conclusion that M is simply going to be locked in the basement until the age of 23. This should prevent many duck-lip, parent shaming pictures from being taken 

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