When we were expecting triplets, there was much debate in our house about what we hoped the genders of the kids would be. Odds were that we’d have a mix of boys and girls, but really we didn’t know what we wanted or expected. We talked a lot about what we would want if they were all the same gender. Joanne was in the boy camp – convinced that they would be “easier.” (Disclaimer: The scale of easy in our household is often skewed. We’re not well.) The image of three boys running around the house with underwear on their heads making farting noises didn’t do much for my psyche, so I was in the girl camp.

If the triplets were all the same gender, I wanted girls. I know, I know, living with three teenage women under one roof was once a form of torture used by the CIA. Then there’s paying for three weddings (thus my strong advocacy for convents). Maybe I thought I would be exiled from the house in 2020, only to return as an expat when the girls left for college. Of course, none of this really mattered, because Sam came through with a Y chromosome. And I love my boys, even when they giggle about “poopy.” (Wasn’t that supposed to happen much later?) Deep down, though, I just wanted the chance to be a father to a little girl.

What I really wanted was to hear my girls call me “daddy.” There’s just something about when those little alto voices called me “daddy.” It somehow validated who I was as a parent, what I taught them, how I was raising them. It also amplified their innocence and little-ness. After all, I wasn’t ready to assume join them on the dance floor for the father-daughter dance – not just yet.

All of these musings were dashed a few weeks ago when Peyton called me “dad.” Dad? Not cool – I was crestfallen. I cannot be a “dad” already – it’s too soon! Can you blame me? I mean, these are the things that typically follow that three letter word:

  • Can I borrow the car?
  • Stop bothering me!
  • Can I have some money?
  • Get out of my room!
  • You’re embarrassing me!
  •  Go away!
  • Get off the phone!
  • It’s not a party – it’s just going to be a couple of friends.
She only said it once, but neurosis has set in, and I’m determined to reverse the course of this recent malady. Hopefully they’ll call me daddy again soon/forever.
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