A new father’s guide to daughters
A FRIEND WITH A
new baby girl -- his first -- asked if this daughter will be different from the son he already has. Are daughters different? Not so much. Yet, here are a few tips for new fathers:
Age 4: Yes, that’s you wrapped around her finger. At this age, she will wear patent leather shoes so shiny they’ll be visible from Mars. Your little girl will consider Band-Aids a fashion accessory and wear them in layers on her knees. When you pick her up, she will hug you as if you just saved her from a burning building.
One Saturday, you will buy her a baseball glove. She will wear it proudly. As a hat.
Age 6: She will begin paying for purchases by check, even for amounts as little as $1.11. When you complain, she will request her own credit card. But be strong. Girls usually aren’t ready for their own credit cards until they are 7 or 8.
You will start to play catch with her in the yard. When she throws, it will be unlike anything you’ve ever seen, even at Wrigley. She will step with the wrong foot and toss the ball with a motion resembling Audrey Hepburn fussing with an earring. Don’t panic. There’s always soccer.
Age 8: By this age, your daughter will begin interviewing prospective husbands. She will invite them over under the guise of “play dates.” You will be unable to figure out what she sees in the guy. He will stand before you, a fidgety little dude whose clothes appear to be stapled to his body. He will have yesterday’s chocolate milk on his chin. One shoe will be untied. For 10 bucks, you can maybe bribe him to look you in the eye.
Cut your daughter some slack: By second grade, a lot of the good men are already taken.
Age 10: This is the last year your daughter will think you’re God. She will be excited about helping you plant the tomatoes. She’ll thank you for letting her wash the car. Unlike your wife, she will nod gracefully at everything you say. She will have 40 sleepovers a month, and you will go broke on birthday gifts for kids you’ve never met.
At this age, clothing will become critical, and she will begin to want to dress like someone 10 years older than she is.
Fortunately, she now has her own credit card.
Age 12: Though still a year away, she will begin to behave like a teenager. This is not necessarily bad, assuming you enjoy music that resembles the gastrointestinal sounds of zoo animals.
But the boys will begin to call, with their thin, monotone voices. The voices of extortionists.
“Ummmm ... is Jillian there?” they’ll ask.
Take their names and alert the district attorney’s office immediately.
Age 14: A great age. A compassionate age. You will soon find that a 14-year-old daughter is never wrong. Never. Yet she will graciously tell you everything that is wrong with you and how to fix it. She will say this in a loud voice, usually while crying.
She will refuse to be seen with you in public under any circumstances. If by chance you’re elected president of the United States, she will ask if she really, absolutely has to go. “I can’t believe you’re making me go to that stupid swearing-in ceremony,” she’ll say. “Nobody else I know is going to the swearing-in. Why do I have to go to that swearing-in?” Then she’ll cry.
Be strong. At least she’s not driving yet.
Age 16: She’s driving. She will have a little trouble with the rearview mirrors, because every time she looks in one, all she’ll see is herself. She will attempt to adjust the radio while executing a three-point turn, then wonder aloud when she’s getting that new Jetta you allegedly promised her.
Each morning before school, you and your wife will argue with her about hooker clothes she insists on wearing because “everyone at school wears them. Everyone!”
Don’t be overly concerned by this. Because if present trends continue, in 16 years kids will be going off to school naked.
Age 18: At this point, you will have heartfelt conversations about what she wants to do with her life. First, there’s buying that $300 prom dress. That’s the first thing she’ll want to do with her life. Then she’ll give you a list of private colleges she’s considering, excited by the prospect of living in a freshman dormitory unfit for barn mice. When you say OK, she will hug you as if you just saved her from a burning building.
Yes, that’s still you wrapped around her finger.
At graduation, you’ll wonder where the years went. You’ll probably wish you had played catch with her a little more or maybe took her to lunch a few extra times. You’ll see how she lights up a room with her smile or laughs the way her mother does. You’ll be so proud, you’ll think you might burst.
Go ahead. Burst. You’ve earned it.
Chris Erskine can be reached at chris.erskine@latimes.com.
