I’ve been teased about having four daughters and no sons. I don’t mind. I don’t have to deal with the rough and tumble of boys tearing my house apart. Granted, my girls have eardrum shattering screams, but I’ll take it.
I’ll admit part of me is relieved that I don’t have sons. I’m an Eagle Scout, mostly because of a supportive mom and a great scoutmaster. I don’t like camping. Or hunting. Or fishing. Not having any sons means I don’t feel obligated to do any of those manly things.
What do I like to do? Well, you’re reading it.
My daughter Amy reminded me of a story when she was in first grade. It was a Daddy-Daughter day at school. The students had written things about their dads that they would read in front of the class.
One boy wrote something along the lines of, “My dad likes to wrestle gorillas.” Another wrote, “My dad is strong. He can cut down trees with his bare hands.” Yet another said, “My dad could beat up your dad.”
When my adorable, little red-headed daughter got up to read, I was curious what she would say. She wrote, “My dad is sweet and kind. He likes to give me hugs and kisses and play dolls with me.”
The parents laughed—and so did I.
Never in my life had I felt so manly.