One of my fondness memories as a child is of my dad styling my hair. Now he like most dads had ZERO experience in this area. In fact I have one word to describe my look for the that day…GREASY. My dad went the full nine yards. He pressed out my kinks with the hot comb and managed to slick my hair down into a side ponytail. By the end of that styling session, my hair and face was slathered in hair grease. You could easily spot me in room because I was glowing, you hear me?
This past Father’s Day made me think of that story and a similar story I had read about President Barak Obama. At a recent private dinner with four contest winners, he and Mrs. Obama shared memories of their young family. When talking about their children, the President fondly shares,
My favorite story out of this is Malia, when she was 4, she had a little dance thing. Well, Michelle was gone that weekend so I’m taking her to ballet. And I get her in her little leotard and her little stuff. I did her hair, put it in a little bun. We get to the dance studio and one of the mothers there right away comes up to Malia – she thinks she’s out of earshot of me and she says, ‘Sweetie, do you want me to redo your hair?’ And Malia who she’s 4 says, ‘Yes please, this is a disaster’ you know, she didn’t want to hurt daddy’s feelings.
Wow! Even at four years old, no daughter wants to hurt daddy’s feelings. We look up to our daddies and we only want to please them.Unfortunately, in some circumstances that image of “daddy” is stained and sometimes even shattered. When that happens we are left to pick up the pieces of the part of our identity. I can say that I am blessed to have had my daddy around, imperfections and all. It’s no secret that he struggled with and overcame drug abuse which at times made my childhood difficult.