Daddy's Girl

I spent a few minutes brushing my youngest daughter, Sierra's, hair last night and reading to her. I don't know why she insists on me brushing her hair. I'm horrible at it. I always pull it or get it tangled. But there she is, time and time again, brush in hand, thumb in mouth and a petulant expression on her face as she waits for me to ball up the courage to attack the hair.

So after a brief but spirited struggle that included not a few muffled grunts a couple of ow's and copious amounts of detangling spray she was almost ready for bed.

Story time.

Right in the middle of the sixth inning no less.

We are currently working our way through C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, one chapter a night. We just started. So I halfheartedly toss the remote on the bed and grab her book following her obediently to her room. Once she is all tucked in, we pick up where we left off the night before. Mr. Tumnus has fed Lucy tea and toast and sardines.

Sardines?

Anyway, she is all of five years old and completely owns me. It dawns on me as she twirls my hair and sucks her thumb as I read. The ballgame is all but forgotten and I can’t really remember what it is exactly that I do for a living anymore.

How did that happen?

Somewhere between "it's a girl!" and Mr. Tumnus's tea party I imagine.

She is the only person in the world whose motives I have never had to question or have ever felt unsure of where I stand with her. I cannot tell you how incredibly comforting that is.

She loves me.

Unconditionally and without reservation.

My other children, Caleb who is seven and Alyssa, nine, love me too but not with such reckless disregard for everything else in the world. They are independent little creatures. They go about their afternoons doing homework or playing on the computer and occasionally stop by for a hug and a kiss. I fit into their schedules. Sierra is different. I am the schedule.

Want to watch cartoons? Sure, as long as I am the sofa.

Ready for dinner time? Sure, as long as I am sitting at the table.

Nothing strange at all about how she feels. It’s like that and that’s the way it is.

I love all my kids equally but I have to admit that Sierra has the ability to bend me.

Me, mister big strong silent type, referred to as Captain Testosterone by my brothers and cousins. Bossed around by a five year old little girl.

Part of me realizes with no small amount of sadness that one day she will grow out of it and get married and be okay without me and I dread that day.

But for now at least I am king for a day and she is my princess.

Can everything that's wrong with the world be taken away with a hug and a kiss? Probably not. But she sure takes the sting out of a bad day at work like nothing else can. It's a wonderful thing, the heart of a child.

Pure.

Real.

I wonder sometimes if people take refuge in the love their kids give them? Do they realize the power contained in tiny hugs and kisses?

They should.

I do.