A Day With the Daughter

I had a nice outing with my daughter over the weekend. Typically, she’s consumed with her friends as any 14-year-old would be. Somehow she carved out a day for Dear Ol’ Dad. We achieved an elegant compromise on our activities, and we only had to endure a half-dozen or so calls to her cell phone from friends atwitter with some adolescent emergency.
Any car ride with her, regardless of its duration, is an adventure for the senses. Of course, more often than not Dad does not approve of her choice of clothes. The shirts are too tight and the skirts are too short. Bless her, she’s built like her mother and is physiologically precocious. With the right hair and make-up, she could pass for eighteen with barely a glance. She’s fourteen all the way, though. That’s important to remember.
I call her a “radio terrorist,” because we can’t seem to listen to any one song all the way through. There are too many music options in my car: the vast array offered by XM, on top of the usual FM stations, plus a six CD changer and some contraption that allows one to play an I-Pod over the speakers. So, here we go from the moment we sit in the car: changing sources, changing stations, shuffling songs. Now playing: Attention Span Theater. Heaven forbid I should ask to catch a two-minute SportsCenter at :20 or :40 past the hour on ESPN Radio. Listen to an inning of an Astros’ game? As she might say, “Are you high?”
Since it was Sunday morning, our first destination was church. We were feeling rebellious, because we slept in and did not attend the church where we are members. Instead, we drove to a nearby place of worship with a Sunday service which closely approximates our own. To her dismay, I forced her to listen to our church’s activities on the radio (AM, to boot). They don’t play any Black Eyed Peas or Five for Fighting during that service. We made it through, actually finding amusement as someone made the unfortunate decision to turn on one of our priests’ microphones during a hymn. We suffered through an ear-splitting unintentional solo instead of hearing a magnificent choir.
We didn’t agree on a lunch destination. She wanted Chili’s. A kid will always default to the familiar. I suppose one must develop a sense of adventure when it comes to dining out. I had a $25 coupon for a barbecue/ steak place east of town. Of course, that appealed to me. Certainly, it did not appeal to her. So, we compromised on a new restaurant we had heard good things about. It was expensive, but the food was good and she was happy. Plus, she had an experience the rest of her family had not, and she had a chance to talk about it.
I also had free admission to the local community college’s production of “Grease,” which had received a reasonable review in the local paper. She had performed in a production of “Grease,” and I thought she would enjoy seeing it again. Plus, it was free. Of course, that didn’t appeal to her. “Dad, I’ve been in ‘Grease’ and I’ve seen it about seven times.” She wanted to go see the Robin Williams movie, “RV.” You can guess what we did.
The movie was nice. The teenager in the film thinks her dad is some kind of massive loser, only to discover he’s actually okay. So, it was a good father-daughter experience. The movie is over-the-top stupid with scatological humor and preposterous plotlines, but I laughed out loud seven or eight times. She liked hearing me laugh, since the movie was her idea.
I got caught up on all the middle school romantic drama that seems to dominate her thinking. I am privy to vital romantic secrets, such as who is planning to break up with whom and who’s afraid to make the first move. If knowledge is power, then consider me a benevolent dictator lording over the sensibilities of middle school heartbreak.
We did the kind of things that are important to young girls, like shop for make-up and purses. Over and over again, I was asked if I needed help. I would simply point to her and say, “I’m just the driver.” That is, of course, until I became the Provider of the Credit Card.
It was, over all, an exceedingly pleasant day. She’s a well-spoken, obviously exceptionally bright kid. Her grandparents are often dumbstruck at the sight of her, because they assert that she looks exactly like her mother did at fourteen. Day after day, she is told how she looks almost eerily identical to her mother. Naturally, I think she’s beautiful.
When the adventure was finished, she had had enough of me. We got home and she went directly to her room, where she permanently affixed a telephone to her ear. That was enough of Dad. She had to know who had broken up with whom in the last four hours.

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