Diary of a father and daughter:
So, today I got "The Call."
"Dad, it’s weird, but think I pooped my pants!"
So, I rush to school, bring her a change of undies, put the old ones in a bag, and rush back to my conference call.
I threw the bag in the kitchen trash.
A few hours later, she calls and I had to put a very important work meeting I’m hosting on hold, which I never do. She says to me, "Dad, it happened again."
At this point, I’m confused and very annoyed because I’m super busy …
I yell, "Just wipe your butt better, then stuff toilet paper in the back of your pants. I’ll have to call you back in an hour!" and I hang up.
A few minutes later it hits me …
OMG!!!
I rush to the trash to dig out and inspect the undies from earlier and scream, "That’s blood not poop!!!"
I interrupt my project meeting and explain, I’m very sorry but I have to go!
I’m racing to the school while calling them, telling the nurse to "go find my child!"
I’m speeding and having a panic attack because my child called me for help and I just "left her to die on the battlefield."
I run in the office and she’s standing there, very calm looking at me. She says, "Dad … I officially started my first …" and I stopped her. I said, "I already know, Avi. It hit me a few minutes after I hung up on you."
The stress of raising a daughter.
Later on she says to me, "Don’t I get something like when a tooth falls out?"
So, I snuck off to the store.
When she got out of the shower, I told her "The Period Fairy" brought her something.
This essay was republished with permission and was written by Maverick Austin. It was originally published here.
