Hey – That’s My Daughter!
I’ve said that twice in the last 24 hours, each time in very different contexts.
The first time was yesterday at a local restaurant. I took my 13-year-old, Anna, to get a baked potato (soft food) after an orthodontist appointment. As the waiter showed us to our table, Anna walked on several steps ahead of me. Then I noticed it. A table of 3 men, all older than me, ogling my daughter. My daughter! These weren’t looks that said, “Gee, what a cute girl.” You know what I mean. It frightened me. Even more, it made me angry. I stopped short of their table and glared. Physically, any one of them could have squashed me with their thumb. But when it comes to a mother protecting her young, size doesn’t matter. I didn’t speak a word – not verbally anyway – but they heard me loud and clear. “Hey, that’s my daughter. Don’t bother her. Don’t speak to her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her again.” It is a sobering thought for me. My “little” girl is growing up. She is already grown up enough to attract the attention of grown men. It is only natural to feel protective, but even more so in light of the frightening stories out of Florida these days.
The second time was today. My daughter qualified for the Upper State Track Meet in both of her running events. I live vicariously through her. I wish that someone would have encouraged me to try more sports as a teenager. She runs like the wind. I watched her compete against other runners, some as much as 5 years older than she is. As she won her race handily and then as her relay team won first place, I couldn’t help but say, “Hey, that’s my daughter!”
There’s nothing in the world like motherhood, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything!