I Now Have Two Teenage Daughters – Now What?
My daughter Alexis turned 13 today, joining her nearly 16 year old sister Autumn in Teendom. What did I get myself into? My wife Sandy and I have adopted four children (three girls and a boy) out of foster care, and we got a late start. I was 46 when we adopted our alpha daughter, Autumn. She’s almost 16. Today, daughter #2, Alexis turned 13. What was I thinking? Both girls are great kids, but now I have to deal with two teenager daughters for the next few years. In fact, for a few months in 2015 when little sister Hailey joins them, I will have three teenage daughters.
I’d like to ask my News/Talk KIT family for any survival tips. Please leave a comment.
And, as a proactive move, I’d like to establish some rules for any of your sons and grandsons that think they would like to date my daughters.
If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, In order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will hurt you.
In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only words I need from you on this subject is “early, sir”
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry. A lot.
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Fred Redmon Bridge . Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like mowing my lawn.
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter:
- Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool.
- Places where there are no parents, policemen, or clergy within eyesight.
- Places where there is darkness.
- Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness.
- Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka zipped up to her throat.
- Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature Disney animated characters are okay.
- Baseball games are okay.
- Old folks homes are better.
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless diety of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and a big yard behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car-there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
(Note to Viet Nam vets: I have the utmost respect for you and your service. I would never do anything to trivialize or belittle your sacrifices. I did not serve, but I am old enough to give some young punk the illusion that I did for purposes of protecting my daughter. If you are a Dad, I hope you understand. The only problem is, I doubt that most 15 t0 17 year old boys today have even heard of the Viet Nam War, which is just wrong.)