Sometimes-Friend, Always-Daddy (II)

Fortunately for me, “I’m not your friend anymore,” is too easy. I saw and anticipated this Puppetphoto © 2010 Newsbie Pix | more info (via: Wylio)
maneuver from miles away. And believing as I do that friendship with your child is fleeting, believing in the discipline of healthy boundaries of love and respect, I firmly and exuberantly shot down any hopes she had of marionetting me. In the future, she would be a teenager, but, today, she would not make me cry!

I did not miss a beat*. “That’s okay, Jocelyn. I don’t need to be your friend. But you know what? I’ll always be your daddy. And you’ll always be my daughter. And nothing, ever could ever change that. No matter what, I’m your daddy, and you’re my daughter.”
And it worked!
It worked so well, in fact, she repeats this refrain to me every time she is bothered by my inability to acquiesce to her every diva whim:
“(Nodding. Stern. Index finger blazing and blond eyebrows scrunched.) I’m not your friend. (And then open, warm, thoughtful, almost repentant.) But I’m your daughter.”
In hindsight, I probably could’ve warned my wife. But her shock at this statement amused me, and I don’t like wasting amusing opportunities.
———-
*It’s a rare moment of genuine pride in myself. Can you tell?
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