Today my daughter declared about our family, “We are chocolate people. . .and we eat chocolate.”
I will now humbly receive my parental lifetime achievement award.
My daughter has a little sister now. When she was little, I ate chocolate without her knowing. Soon we’ll both eat chocolate without her sister knowing. But little does she know, I’ll always have chocolate without anyone knowing. Always.
My daughter plays a game with me that she loves and I half-love. I have to lie down on the bed and keep my eyes closed. Love it! Then I have to open my eyes and “pretend scream” because she’s carefully laid plastic insects all over my body. I scream, but I’m not pretending.
When you’re young you look in the mirror and wonder, “Do I have enough gel in my hair?” When you’re a parent, you look in the mirror and wonder, “Do I have any playdough in my hair?”
Sometimes when you’re a father you catch yourself saying things like this to your child: “That’s okay, baba. Keep bouncing. You don’t need to fly all the time.” #TheGreatGyanFactory
With a surge of affection I asked my nearly 4 year old daughter if she wanted me to give her a big kiss. She thought about it and said, “Actually, I don’t need it.”
We were wondering if my daughter’s eyesight was clear but one day she caught a glimpse of John Abraham in an ad on YouTube and said, “Dadda, you’re on the TV!” #20/20
Since my daughter has learned to speak she’s quickly becoming an intoxicating voice of validation and affirmation. This morning, while searching for pieces and building a Lego house with her I was told,“Dada, you’re so good at finding.”
There was a mark of masculinity in college called the “French connection”—a line of hair bridging your beard to your moustache. It did not grow on me. I thought the disappointment was behind me. Yesterday my daughter looked at my face and said, “Dada, your beard is broken.”