Notes along the father-daughter continuum: The Question

It comes out of nowhere.

Sort of sneaks up on you.

You never see it coming.

You don’t feel it.

You don’t sense it.

You turn around. And it’s there.

The Question.

“Daddy, is there a Santa Claus?”

Many times this is a trick question. They look to you for confirmation of what they already believe they know. They have worked it out. The physics of it. The general understanding of what is, what was and what could be. Is this possible?

So they blurt it out. . .and wait.

“Daddy, why is the sky blue?”

This one they don’t know but they are still at that age where they truly believe you do. You scramble for an answer. The truth is you could say just about anything but you want to at least give them a kernel of truth. How horrible would it be if they were at a friend’s house and this question was raised? They would confidently answer: “My daddy says the sky is blue because there was a tear in the space-time continuum that formed a worm hole which collapsed on itself and exploded into a our big blue sky.”

“Daddy, if God created the heavens and the earth, who created God?”

It’s the ever-feared theological question. What the heck? Aren’t they supposed to be all about “Jesus Loves Me” and all that? What’s up with a theological question that even the most learned men of the cloth have a hard time with?

“Daddy, what does it mean when someone says they are having their ‘period’?”

Ah. . .yes. You would think that this question would throw off even the most confident of men. But, no. Generally speaking, by the time this question is uttered, you have already formulated the ever-popular answer. . . “Go ask your mother.”

The interesting aspect of this is that as they get older, they just assume you’re as dumb as a sack of hammers. Therefore the questions tend to slow down a bit. I mean, think about it. Why ask a question of someone whom you know has no freakin’ idea what they are talking about? What’s the point?

But then they begin to learn about sex. This opens up a whole new avenue of exploration, questions and potential for embarrassment. It doesn’t help that I specifically have told both of my daughters that they can ask me anything at anytime and I will answer them honestly.

My wife and I have always been fairly forthright with our children about sex and private parts. This has proven to be a positive development in some ways but a detriment in others. Knowing my general unease for this type of discussion only encourages both of my daughters to make up songs using the anatomically correct names of private parts in the refrain. These are most often sung in the car on the way back from the beach. There is no escape.

But there is from time to time the Question.

“Daddy, what does mean?”

My oldest daughter asked me this while we were driving home one day. I haven’t heard that word uttered aloud since I was a sophomore in high school. It’s important that you show no fear. No emotion. No laughter. No tears. Don’t lose control of the car. Stare straight ahead. And in a voice void of all emotion, I told her what it meant and explained that you are not to use that term.

It had been a while since I had gotten any questions. But, as I said before, they sneak up on you.

My youngest daughter and I were watching the NCAA tournament. And, as is the norm, just about every other commercial had to do with erectile dysfunction. Over and over. Men smiling. Women smiling. Holding hands. Sitting in tubs. Going into the hut. Driving a motorcyle. The catchy tune. It seemed like they lasted forever. Then, blessedly, they were done. But, as it turns out, not done soon enough.

“Daddy, what is Cialis?”

It came out of nowhere. I suppose I should have expected it.

“Well, sweetie, Cialis is a medication for men.”

That should have been it. Had it been any other child in America, that would have been it. But, no. Not my youngest. Not the one who can sense fear from miles away. Not the one who knows when she’s got you on the ropes. Not the one who will one day be a feared litigator stalking the nation’s courtrooms like a red-headed female version of Perry Mason.

“Okay but what does it do?”

It was then that I had a choice. I could use the fall back position of directing her to her ever-trusted mother. Or I could manipulate the truth – “Well, it designed to help increase blood flow.” Not exactly the whole truth, but not a lie either.

Or I could tell the whole, unvarnished truth. So that’s what I did. I explained to her what Cialis was and why men took it and what it did. I didn’t crack a smile. I didn’t laugh. I didn’t cry. I answered her as if I were reminding her of when she was born.

She looked at me in disgust.

“Okay. . .eeeewwww.”

Then she didn’t talk to me the rest of the day.

Sometimes it pays to be honest.