My daughter lost a bit of her innocence last night.
At ease, people, no salacious details will be found here. I’m about to wax philosophical. Whatever the hell that means.
So there we were, watching the last ten seconds of Once Upon A Time unfold when the picture was interrupted and replaced by an ominous countdown…
All I could think was,”Great, they’re reviving those emergency broadcast system alerts. The dog is about to go nuts at that high pitch.”
But no, it was just President Donald Trump (I still can’t get used to using those words in succession) announcing a military strike on Syria’s chemical weapons factories, something he hinted at earlier in the week, thus defying his edict to never announce where he was gong to strike or when. Trump stuck to the speech. He was controlled, on-point and focused. That alone left us gobsmacked, to say nothing of his announcement itself.
My daughter, in particular, listened intently and then returned to her online group chat with her college classmates. After a few minutes of virtual chatter she posed a question to me that left me momentarily breathless.
“Some of my friends think this is the beginning of the end… is it?”
Sure, my kid is nineteen, but her mind is older (bonus points if you got that reference) and an adult herself (I hate that about her) but she’s deliberately hanging onto her sense of child-like wonder for as long as she can. But the thought of an imminent war with Syrian ally Russia is seriously harshing her mellow. And so she was looking to her “Skippy’ (that’s me) to provide some solace and reassurance that she’d make it to twenty without having to worry about nuclear fallout creating a horde of zombies she’d have to run from. Outside.
Kids these days aren’t big on running, especially when they have to do it outside.
But back to me and my superior parenting skills. I took a moment to ponder my answer, as this was a big moment in our family history. On one hand I wanted to be the cool dad and answer quickly, thus allowing her to get back to her regular existence (my daughter’s IC has made her life a living hell at times but she’s a happy person overall). On the other hand, I barely know how to ignite a female orgasm… to say nothing of discussing world politics… so how the hell am I qualified to handle this query?
But you can’t run from these things (sadly) so I soldiered on.
“It better not be… I just got our tickets for Niagara Falls Comic Con.”
That brought back to her reality immediately – after the inevitable eye roll, of course. Later on, I spouted some bullshit about America’s reluctance to get into a full-scale conflict with Russia, and the effect such a war would have on the stock market, but in the end, it really was all bullshit. I’m a bellman, what the hell do I know about this stuff?
At the end of the day all we can do as parents is play to our strengths and hope for the best, folks. At least that’s been my philosophy for nineteen years and since my daughter’s not pregnant, snorting condoms or eating Tide Pods, I’d say it’s working pretty well.
See you in the lobby, friends…
I know we’re all scared, but life endures, people. Always.