Dear Julia:
Can you believe it? Today you’re 17. You’ve gotten so tall and so mature looking, but you’ll always be my baby. Not just because you’re my little girl but because even though you’ve taken 17 trips around the sun your mind is still that of a toddler. Sometimes, my sweet, I wonder whether that is good or bad.
Some fathers have had major arguments with their seventeen year old daughters because some chucklehead showed up at the front door ready for the prom or homecoming dance. I won’t ever have that sort of an argument with a guy you bring home to meet us. Perhaps it is better for that imaginary fellow that he’ll never encounter me armed with a list of questions and a gun cleaning kit.
There are fathers telling their daughters that the car is now off limits because they were late getting home from some teenage adventure but for you a ride in the minivan is always the best trip ever. You get so excited when we buckle you in to your seat because you know that you’ll be watching a great DVD filled with songs that always seem to prompt squeals of delight. The only thing that makes a trip better is when we stop at a Dunkin’ Donuts or Wawa and get some sort of treat. Maybe it is better that the biggest concern we have when you’re going somewhere is that you’ll drop a Munchkin on the floor.
As we speak, some daughter somewhere is telling her father that she absolutely, positively needs a brand new outfit and the shoes to go with it. Mom does an incredible job of dressing you like the beautiful young lady you are and fortunately you don’t often have to endure my sad attempts at getting you ready, although I have to state once again that there is not actually a law that says both socks have to be the same. No, I’m not dealing with expensive purses or dresses but is that really better than buying pants that will fit over your braces or figuring out what size diaper you wear?
When you’re eighteen and living in your own place you can do whatever you want! Every father everywhere has told their daughter that at some point. Whether those words are said in English, Hebrew, French or Russian there is the bittersweet understanding that at some point, our kids will grow up and get to make their own way in the world. But next year, when you turn eighteen we’ll celebrate it in the same way we always have. We’ll eat some cake, sing a song and then eat some more cake but when the calendar again reads March 7th Mom and I will be confronted with a stack of paperwork that will make your perpetual childhood a reality.
You’ll never get to drive or vote. You won’t be choosing a major in college or worrying about your career path. Instead, you’ll still be enjoying the warmth of the bright sun shining through the window. You’ll be savoring a delicious taste treat and giggling when I tickle you. Every father talks about his baby girl but when I speak of you, you really are my baby girl.
Well, funny bunny, no matter what your age you’ll always be my favorite girl.
Kisses and cookies Jules Bagools. Daddy loves you more than you will ever know.
Jeff and his princess at the 2020 Daddy Daughter Dance.