I am very familiar with the “Daddy’s girl.” I have two of them. And it drives me crazy.
Tuesday night was meet the teacher night at Omelette’s school. She came home all excited about the free pizza that would be served after the class and PTA meetings. I had already decided that we would not be attending the PTA meeting and would therefore not be staying for pizza. I told her this, and she responded by lamenting several times throughout the afternoon, “I wish I could have free pizza.” I responded with my standard “I wish you would stop trying to guilt me into getting what you want. That doesn’t work on me.”
Oh, but it works on Daddy. And she knows this.
We met her dad at the school, and the first words out of her mouth were “Daddy, can we stay for free pizza?” Never mind that I had already told her we would not be staying. And never mind that she was supposed to be going home with me, not him. I started to tell her that we had already discussed this, but he interjected and said he could bring her back to me afterward.
Not wanting to argue with both of them outside her classroom in front of the other parents, I reluctantly gave in. I’m pretty sure she knew this would happen.
Later, when he brought her back to my house, she came through the door with tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“She wants to stay the night with me,” he said.
My next words were to her.
“You’re supposed to be with me tonight, and it’s too close to bedtime to be changing things around.”
At this, she began sobbing. Loudly.
Dad tried to explain, “She’s upset that she can’t stay in her room and has to sleep with her sister.”
“She rolls all over me,” she complained in between sobs.
Wait a minute. Yes, both girls are sleeping in our room while we remodel and rearrange, but Omelette asked if they could sleep together on her mattress. Early Bird has her own bed, and no one is forcing them together. And besides that, we have a camera installed in the room, so we know who is doing the playing around. Roostler pointed out this flaw in her story, but to no avail. Omelette only cried harder.
In the end, Omelette went home with her dad. He explained to her that there would be no play time. She would have to go straight to bed. The tears stopped almost instantaneously.
I rolled my eyes as I shut the door behind them. Then, I turned to Early Bird and started readying her for bed. All the drama with her sister must have done something to her because she decided to throw her own fit. Roostler had to force her nightgown over her head as she screamed, and I had to hold her mouth open to brush her teeth. I then carried her into the bedroom with Roostler behind me.
“You know she’s going to want you to stay if you go in there,” I said.
“We can both stay for a few minutes until she calms down,” he replied.
I wasn’t going to argue with him there in the hallway with her whimpering in my arms.
I settled her into bed, and we both sang to her. When the songs were over, she clearly stated, “Sleep here.”
Knowing this was directed at him, Roostler said, “I’ll be right here. Maybe Mommy can lie down with you.”
I did and was met with immediate resistance.
“No! You sleep here!”
Before the tears could resume, I got up and left the room, grumbling as I did.
“You’re both ridiculous.”
I said this in reference to the two girls, who could easily redefine melodrama, but my assessment could go for their fathers as well. They are both strong men, who are not likely to bow to anyone else (especially me), but they are putty in those little girls’ hands. It’s almost comical. Almost.
Perhaps I would find it funny if I weren’t the butt of the joke. It’s not me Omelette is begging to stay the night with, and it’s not me Early Bird wants to stay with her at bedtime.
Funnily enough, though, the termite guy had come over for our annual check earlier in the day, and as he was shining his flashlight into each corner of our house, he commented on the subject of fathers and daughters.
“We (fathers) can be pretty stupid when it comes to our daughters.”
I wonder what manner of stupidity he’s been suckered into.