It is Sunday morning at 955am. My daughter woke up at 555 am. We played dolls for over an hour. She ate breakfast. I read her a Plants vs Zombies book. Now, she is upstairs in her room. I checked on her about 10 minutes ago. “I just need some alone time”. Today is an alone day. Please shut my door on your way out.”
“Okay”, I say. Then shut the door when leaving.
In this moment, tears are forming in my eyes…
It is now 745pm. As this was originally being written she came downstairs and asked if we could drive around while she read. “Did you want to go anywhere particular.” “No.”
We got in the car, drove west for 40 minutes. She said, “I’m ready to head back.” So, we took an exit turned around, and headed home. She asked to go to the library to exchange a book.
She stayed downstairs when we got home. She read and kept jumping up to share funny moments in her books. A neighbor kid came over and asked if she could play outside. This was the first time he knocked on the door to ask her to play.
They collected icicles. Wrote in the snow. Worked on a fort. She wanted to write math problems on people’s sidewalks in the snow. He was not into the math problem writing. She did it anyway. He still collected icicles with her. She came in once to get warm. Then again when she was done.
After, we painted four canvases each. She asked for a later than normal snack. She had blueberries, and cheesy popcorn, and water. She asked me to read Sarah Scribbles to her.
We got ready for bed. She got upset at me. We had a moment. Shortly after she fell asleep.
This was not the story being written when interrupted writing “…tears are forming in my eyes…”. The story changed. The day forming in my head, was not the day we had. Giving her space and respect and time. Not pushing against her. Respecting her room and her choices. I came downstairs with tears in my eyes, ready to write a story about *blank*.
She needed a moment. I respected it. There is no way for me to know what was going through her head. What led from “an alone day” to “will you drive me around”, to playing outside, creating, painting, and reading her a story. At 945 am, a father did right by his daughter. She paid his respect back generously. They both benefited.
It should be noted, had she stayed in her room reading. Had it not worked out the way it did. The end results would have been the same. Her choices respected. Her time respected. Her space respected. A father that did not push against her. A father that did not force his wants, desires, and hurt on her.
Posted. Not perfect.
A Vegan Father, navigating a non-vegan world.
A Better Father 