EDITOR’S NOTE: The following is an excerpt from That’s My Girl: How a Father’s Love Protects and Empowers His Daughter by Rick Johnson (Revell).
CAUTION: This excerpt contains discussion of mature subject matter.
What Are Little Girls Made Of?
It’s your turn to try to quiet the baby. . . . Gently lift the baby to your shoulders. If you’re holding baby correctly there should now be vomit on your shoulder. If there is poop on your shoulder, you are holding the baby upside down.
—Dave Barry, advice to new fathers
There’s an old nursery rhyme that talks about little girls being made of “sugar and spice and everything nice.” Our firstborn, Frank, was a very compliant, easy-to-raise child. Like many families, our second child, Kelsey, was just the opposite. Some might say she was made of “vinegar and vodka and all sorts of drama.” It’s a common joke around our home that if Kelsey had been born first, Frank might never have been conceived. We would have been scared of having other children. Kelsey is what we call in polite company a “strong-willed” child. She has always had her own mind and her own way of doing things. She frequently did things she knew she shouldn’t, despite the consequences involved. In fact, consequences of any kind didn’t seem to make a difference once she decided she wanted to do something.
Because of her temperament, Kelsey was a high-maintenance child and took a lot of our attention and resources. For instance, when she was about six years old, she pushed a babysitter down the stairs, and she treed another sitter, who wouldn’t come down until we got home. At age two she managed to escape from her crib during naptime, climb up on the stove, and turn all the burners on high. My wife found her sitting and screaming in the middle of the stove between four red-hot burners, her puffy acrylic dress inches from going up in flames.
Once while my wife and I were away, Kelsey “stole” my wife’s brand-new sports car and went for a joyride—at age fifteen! Luckily, sibling rivalry was stronger than loyalty, and our son ratted her out with a quick phone call—prompting us to leave for home early. Another time she loaded up our minivan with her “posse” and was involved in an auto accident in a seriously bad part of town.
Still another time she was chased down by a baseball-bat-wielding lunatic who smashed out the windshield of our car. Again at age fifteen, she snuck out at 2:30 in the morning once and walked across town to a friend’s house—she was gone when we woke up in the morning! I think you get the picture.
One day during Kelsey’s tempestuous teenage years, I was talking with a friend. Roger had raised three daughters, and all had been “good” girls who never caused a lick of trouble. They all seemed perfect. Frankly, I was envious of his daughters and not a little concerned about the apparent lack of my own fathering abilities. When I told him about my envy, Roger said something that surprised me. He said, “I know I have been blessed with good girls. I think God gave me good daughters because he knew I couldn’t handle ones who acted out.” Perhaps he was only being gracious and was really just a better father than I was, but I like to think perhaps there was some truth in what he said.
