Daddy, Your Shirt Is Ugly

I guess daughters are always supposed to break their Daddy’s heart but I would have bet a bunch that it would have been from going away to college or maybe getting married.  This morning I took one broadside and before 7:30 in the morning.  As the house was rumbling its way to another successful on time departure to school, I had decided to wear a new shirt I had gotten for Christmas last month.  As I was checking on the girls to see how far along the process they were, I stuck my head into my youngest daughter’s room.  Without a “good morning”, “hello” or “what’s up pops?” even being said, I got “Daddy, that shirt is ugly”.  What? What was the number of that nine-year old train that just crushed me crossing the tracks and minding my own business?

I have heard it all now.  It is not everyday that one gets beat down by his daughter but I took it in stride.  Sensing an opening, I asked “what’s wrong with my shirt?”.

“It’s ugly”.

“I think we have established that fact already, why are you beating up your old man this early?”

“I’m not”,  “Are you wearing that shirt to work?”

I had just lost the conversation; there was no getting back from that.  Such is the honesty of a child.

I couldn’t believe it has turned this quick.  The move from little girl to little sassy miss wasn’t as bad as being critiqued by someone who still wears Hannah Montana shirts!

It was a representation of the world we live in today wrapped up in the innocent expressions of a nine-year old.  Zero regard for anything other than what our  brain is processing at the moment  and zero regard for the people we are interacting with.  This is our world.  Everything is so upfront we have forgotten to think whether or not some particular items even need to be upfront.  This gets reflected in every social movement we see today that seeks recognition and some semblance of personally manufactured power.


No.  Go home.  I have accepted you and you don’t bother me, but keep your issues to yourself.

It is none of my business and I don’t want it to be.

I didn’t care that she didn’t like my shirt-I wore it anyway but it didn’t need to be said.  That is a good lesson for a nine-year old.  The sad fact is that we haven’t learned that same lesson as a nation.  Most of us have moved on.  Most of us have matured.  Those who haven’t never will and one day they will become irrelevant.  We just can’t allow too much damage to take place before we reach that point as a country.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s