A wise dad once told me that the greatest joy for any father is seeing his children make it on their own. To which I say, bull.
Trust me, there's no joy in seeing my daughter grow up, or witness how happily she is growing up.
I guess what's got me waxing bitter is returning my daughter to college this past weekend.
A five-hour drive: quality time — just me and her. Until we got to her school. Then it was me and her... and her friends... and her acquaintances... and her resident advisers... and her suddenly crowded e-mail inbox.
You'd think this far into her college career, that I'd be more like a wise dad than a selfish dad.
I was not. I am not.
I know I sound incredibly sexist here, but I can't picture being this way with my much younger sons. Not only because they're little more than toddlers, but because I'm a little more than old-fashioned: babying the girl — less so the boys.
But the girl isn't a girl. And she's more mature realizing that than I am at ever fathoming that.
The trips to her school have not gotten easier or the goodbyes any less difficult.
She is growing up. I am not.
So bear with me. I should be OK. Just give me, oh... a few months!
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