When you’re the father of daughters it means getting your nails painted.
It means breaking that rule you had before children that you’d never let them paint your nails.
It means trying to hold your ground about only painting your toenails because that’s easy to hide but eventually giving in to getting your fingernails painted too because you’re a sucker for a hug from your daughters.
It means taking off your socks and feeling a sudden fear that your toes are bleeding because you forget that your 4-year-old painted much more than just your nails with red sparkly nail polish.
It means going to the pool and taking off your shoes, and suddenly everyone is looking at your poorly painted pink toenails that you were too lazy to clean. You glance at your daughters, and they give you a half smile that seems to say, “Got it.”
It means going to the hardware store alone with painted nails and people looking at you with a furrowed confused brow, like it was a life choice, but it wasn’t. You just have daughters.
It means crouching down in the bathtub with a bottle of nail polish remover, scrubbing at your toes, knowing that it’s easier than removing it with a pocket knife like you did the first time but wishing it would work faster. But you also feel something warm in your heart when you think about your daughters calling you a beautiful princess and knowing the moment they see your nails are clean that they will insist on painting them again.
It means going to work and having all your coworkers comment on your “nice nails” because you ran out of remover and didn’t have time to run to the store.
It means secretly looking forward to them painting your nails because it’s probably the cutest thing ever.
It means suggesting they paint your nails to keep them from clawing at your wife for 10 or 15 minutes.
It means wondering how long they will still be interested in painting your nails.
It means realizing that there are probably plenty more things you swore you’d never do as a father of daughters that you will most likely end up doing.
This post was written by Clint Edwards and reprinted with permission. For more parenting laughs, check out his new book, 'I’m Sorry… Love, Your Husband.'
