Donovan Kelly
Crummy But Good Writer with a Lighter Touch
"It takes about 30 years," I said, trying to use my deepest, all wise, mature male voice. Which is hard to do in an email.
My young nephew Patrick was asking for advice about girls. Or at least I took his email note as a request for advice when he described his newest girl. "Kaden is a doll, and she really has a great set of lungs. Maybe one of these days I'll figure out what she needs before she has to use them."
I smiled knowingly into my email. Patrick and Misti had just brought their new-born Kaden home from the hospital and my nephew was now entering that male twilight zone, where tough macho daddies surrender everything to tiny soft daughters.
He the world-traveling oceanographer tried to rise above the pull of the daddy zone by describing his new daughter in lighthearted scientific fishing terms, "She came in at 3.41 kilograms and 50.2 centimeters."
He even advanced a scientific theory to explain his daughter's arrival a week ahead of schedule. "I couldn't help but notice that the salt marshes in Rhode Island were completely flooded by an astronomically high tide. Everybody knows that the tides are driven by the gravitational interactions between the earth, sun, and moon. But maybe some people don't know that these gravitational interactions also help pull babies from their wombs."
Nephew, good luck finding the time, tides and pregnant women to test your theory. Especially the time. Because you have just entered the Daddy Zone, and suddenly your whole life rotates around the gravitational pull of 3.41 kilograms.
Let me know when you first realize that Kaden has you completely wrapped around her little finger. Daughters can do that to fathers so quickly. Our own Kathleen was just two weeks old and trying to nurse on my biceps, when I suddenly realized that I was eager and willing to grow breasts for her. Didn't happen, but the sudden realization that I was willing, macho image be damned, was a scary eye opener. That was 30 years ago and nothing has changed, except my daughter no longer admires my biceps.
Yes nephew, it usually takes about 30 years before you start figuring out what a daughter wants before she yells. By then, your hearing and your wraparound daughter are mostly gone and you end up missing a lot of the yelling.
The hard to understand part is that you really do miss the yelling. Then God in Her wisdom takes pity and gives you grandchildren and grand nieces to wrap around your heart and to once again admire your flabby biceps.
(Kelly is now collecting information on wraparound grandchildren. Supporting data may be sent to donovan@donovanwrites.com.)