Isn’t it about time that we celebrate dads? I’m not sure if there’s a milestone that can define when we are no longer little girls that need your help scaring the monsters under our beds, but it appears as though we’ve grown up in the blink of an eye. And that’s just it: it feels like time’s flown by and we’ve barely dedicated any of it to telling you how much we love you.
We can now solve Econ problem sets without calling you for help, drink coffee without wincing, navigate New York’s subway system without checking maps, and kill a spider without screaming your name first. And yet, we still consider ourselves to be your little girl. We might not need you to be the man who kisses our scraped knees anymore, but we still thank you for never failing to offer your unconditional love and support. We know that you might not know who we’re talking about when we can’t believe that Kim K walked down the aisle again, only to wed Yeezus, but you’re still the best for nodding along and rolling your eyes at the right moments.
And even though we’re living in the third decades of our lives and should be accustomed to dorm life with friends, we still get homesick and miss you. Which is exactly why when we are home, we would rather chill out with you on the couch all night, even if that means watching some sports game that I’ll never understand. Because we know that we can see our friends any other time, but we can’t always spend that time with you.
To put it simply, Dads are the best teachers, protectors, and occasional comedians. For some reason, Dads just get us: our weird anecdotes, and our awkward mannerisms (that we’ve definitely inherited from him anyway). And after all of the fights and tears, Dads still love us no matter what. They inspire us to live our lives every single day with the same attitude and perseverance that we’ve watched them master since we could remember.
And even though Dads still embarrass us by claiming that LOL means “lots of love” or that tevas are the new “it” shoe, we truly would not be here without them. When it comes down to it, no matter how many times he drove us up the wall during our angst-ridden, overly dramatic teenage years, we’ve all come to realize that we took living under Dad’s roof for granted. We might not wear pigtails in our hair anymore or need you to catch us at the bottom of a slide, but we will always consider ourselves your little girl.