“Dad, I don’t want to go trick-or-treating this year,” my daughter said. I immediately assumed something was wrong. Why wouldn’t she want to go door to door asking for candy? I’m over forty and if it was socially acceptable I would 100% be doing this.
“Why, honey?” I said. I was in full-on concerned father mode.
“I think I’m too old,” she said.
“You’re only thirteen.”
“I’m too old.”
I looked at her for a minute trying to decipher if her face was giving away something deeper that I needed to be concerned about. That’s the thing about fatherhood, even when it’s simple it’s not so simple. We get protective and look for things that are not said. Is there something here that I can fix?
What do I need to do to make my little girl little again? Halloween is our jam and has always been.
“Is everything ok with your friends?” I asked. It’s my go-to question when things feel off with her. But it’s hard because she’s a teenager now and everything feels a little off. I’m trying to guide her the best I can but sometimes it can be…difficult.
“Everything is fine, you worrywart,” she said. Then she rolled her eyes at me because she is obligated to. It’s a special hormone that happens when “teen” gets added to the start of your age. It’s like when you’re in your 20s and all of a sudden you think you’re a grown-up.
I feel that my daughter needs to obtain the responsible age of 40 for me to stop worrying about her. And then, I will anyway because I would have re-evaluated my position on how old she needs to be before I stop asking if everything is ok with her friends.
“You’ve always gone trick-or-treating. We’ve done the costumes, the scary movies, ya know, father/daughter stuff. What’s changed?”
“Trick-or-treating little kid thing. It’s weird going to peoples’ houses with all the little kids. I don’t need to go anymore.”
I need her to go. Teens, by their nature, are selfish. I know that this isn’t my call but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
What bothers me is that a lot of things nowadays are not my call. As she approaches womanhood, which I still maintain is around forty, she needs me less and less. One day I’m going to wake up and she’s not even going to be in the house anymore. Where does that leave me? Doing Halloween alone and wondering if my little girl is putting enough into her 401(K) savings?
It’s a hard thing to get used to and I wonder if I ever will.
“Bullocks to that!” I said because when I get emotionally destroyed I turn to British exclamations. It’s a way to hide my hurt. Then I tell a joke so no one notices what’s going on in my head. “Knock-knock,” I said.
Her eyes rolled again. “Who’s there?”
“Dad.”
“Dad, who?”
“A dad who is going trick-or-treating with his daughter, that’s who!”
Granted, it was a weak joke. I never said that my dad jokes were good. It’s a work in progress. But she smiles.
“No. I’m not going trick-or-treating with my father!” Oomph. I forgot about the embarrassment factor that I bring to her life when she turned teen.
She stopped letting me go with her when she hit double digits, preferring her friends over my primo knock-knock jokes, the foundation of dad humor. That wasn’t a fun time either. But I still got to see her dress up and run out the front door. At the end of the night, she would come home and we would go over her stash. I would check the candy, making sure to keep a few bits for my trouble, as is tradition.
“So no trick-or-treating this year? You sure?” I asked.
“Yes, Dad!”
And there it is, another piece of her childhood gone that I can’t keep for her. I’ve given her the memories, and I’m hoping that it is enough. And I also realize how unrealistic I’m being.
She is right. My daughter is getting to that age where trick-or-treating is starting to become a little too juvenile for her. I don’t disagree.
I just don’t want to blink and have her married and someone calling me only on the weekends. I know the problem is more with me than it is with her. But I will admit, I admire my daughter’s ability to be smarter than her over-sentimental dad. I didn’t used to be but then time started to speed up and I had to hold onto things a bit harder than before.
“Besides,” she said, “I would rather stay home and hand out candy with you. And then we can cuddle on the couch and watch all the scary movies!”
See, she is much smarter than her dad.
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