When you are a little girl, there are certain things that only a Daddy can do. It’s not that a Mummy can’t do them, it’s just that to a little girl, Daddy can do them better.
As AJ and Bart get older I find it fascinating that two thing I loved my Dad to do for me are the same thing my girls want Jay to do for them.
One is polishing shoes. I remember my Dad showing me how to apply the polish, then brushing and buffing the leather until it shone. Jay has given the girls the same lesson, but there is nothing like a newly polished pair of school shoes that Daddy has taken the time and effort to do. I would walk with my shoulders a little straighter and a little more pride in my step on those mornings I had beautifully polished shoes on my feet that Dad had done.
Bart is taking such care of her school shoes this year. They are normally badly scuffed within the first couple of days, but one week in and they still look fabulous. Although it was a little worrying the other day when she came home and told us she had gotten a scratch on them. Upon inspection neither Jay or I could see any evidence of the afore-mentioned scratch.
“Oh,” Bart casually said “It disappeared after I licked it. My teacher showed my how.”
Upon explanation, we found out Bart’s new teacher had shown her how to slightly dampen her finger with spit and then rub her shoe over the scratch. Still gross, but a least the image of Bart holding her shoe like and ice cream and giving it a huge lick was suppressed… kind of.
Monday morning when Jay had the polish out for his work boots, (yes, he does polish his scruffy, steel toe capped work boots) Bart sidled up to him with her new school footwear in her hands, batting her eyelashes. I couldn’t help the nostalgia flowing through me. Of course Jay did hers as well. Who can resist a little girl looking at you as though you are a boot brush wielding hero?
The other evening Jay had been called upstairs by Bart. When he got there she wanted him to shake out her duvet and tuck it around her. AJ too, likes Jay to take the time to tuck her in and make sure her toes are fully covered by the duvet. Again I completely understood.
I loved it when my Dad tucked me in. Sometimes I would deliberately wreck my bed until the blankets were on the floor, then call Dad until he came upstairs and remade it. He would tuck me in so tight I could hardly move. It was the best feeling.
Daddies and their little girls. It is such a special bond.