Confessions of a Daddy’s girl

When I was younger I heard that phrase a lot. It was delivered scathingly whenever I mentioned that we weren’t allowed to do whatever it was we were planning to do. It was the standard challenge whenever I refused to take sides in the frequent trivial arguments. It was the ultimate accusation of betrayal.

Perhaps because I was my Daddy’s girl, I eventually realized that I was only called a Daddy’s girl when I decided to be the voice of reason or common sense in our prepubescent band of misfits. It didn’t take long after that for me to accept the truth.

Me Biko and daddy

Yes, I am my Daddy’s girl, always have been always will be. And if that means that I’m not going to put up with your bullshit then that’s fine with me and I’m proud of it.

So even though he doesn’t even know I have a blog I have to say thank you Daddy. For that and the silliness and the work ethic and the nagging that drives me up the wall and so many other things I would be writing for weeks to get it all down. Because that is what you do on blogs. And because I mean it.

Happy Belated Birthday