Dillard gets a book about bugs as a gift. It's not a present that I would necessarily get excited about, but she has a thing for all things creepy and crawly. She gets pretty geeked about cockroaches and screw-worms and weevils. Those things make me want to reach for a can of Raid or a flyswatter. But everybody has their own obsessions, although I can't imagine what is under Dillard's tree on Christmas morning.
Speaking of gifts, today is my daughter sixteenth birthday. She reminded of that fact last night as she was going to bed. "Just think, daddy," she said. "Tomorrow, I'm going to be sixteen." She smiled and walked off to her bedroom. I sat on the couch for the rest of the night, feeling fairly old.
We aren't having a big party today for her. That comes this weekend with our extended families. Tonight, we will have cupcakes, sing to her, and let her open a present. Small and simple. Frankly, I can't believe that my daughter is over half-way to 30 years of age, in high school, and on her way to graduation in two years. Like I said, I'm feeling fairly old tonight.
We did not get my daughter a small, illustrated layman's guide to insect pests. She's not into bugs that much. However, because she is the daughter of two English majors, she will be receiving a book tonight. A book that she's been wanting for a while.
I know I spend a whole lot of time on this blog talking about how moody, sensitive, angry, and hormonal she is. I want to take a moment to say that she's also beautiful, smart, funny, independent, creative, and full of love. My daughter doesn't hate anybody, with the exception of Donald Trump.
Saint Marty is a blessed father.
|This is not my daughter's birthday present|