Becoming An Adult

By Jeff Moore

I chatted online with a female friend. The conversation went something like this…

“Sorry I disappeared for a few minutes, I was tucking my daughter in. She became an adult today.”

“Oh, is she ok? Does she understand it all?”

“Yeah. Oh, she's a little disappointed, but not surprised. I told her she just gets to enjoy some of the more magical parts of life from the other side of the fence now.”

“Uh… That is neat that you and she can talk.”

“Yes. I told her that I remembered when it happened to me. I wasn't too surprised.”

“What? Oh, please don't tell me you told her that. You’ll confuse the hell out of her.”

“Why? She should know she's not alone. These are kinds of changes all young girls and boys have to deal with eventually.”

“Yeah, but…”

“These are important rites of passage to adulthood. She deserves to hear the stories of those who went before her.”

“Well, that is true, but I thought… uh… never mind. LOL I thought you were teasing her about you having started YOUR period.”

“PERIOD?!?!”

“How are you dealing with the fact that your little girl is now a young woman? Errr… am I off base? Didn’t she start her period???”

“OMG, NO! We just told her about Santa Claus!”

In all fairness, I suppose I can see how my friend got the wrong idea. Without too much coaxing, I might even admit that I was taking advantage of the medium to pull her leg on purpose. That would explain the name she called me that I omitted from above.

The underlying truth in the conversation shouldn’t be lost though. My little girl wanted to know about Santa Claus. Her mother actually took the honors on that conversation. Over the course of the talk, I’m told the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny also fell from grace. My wife tells me that at one point, my daughter looked up at her and asked, “Then are all the mythical creatures not real?” Having asked these questions, and having been willing to hear the answers, she took a step away from her status as a little girl, and one toward her own adulthood.

It has affected me profoundly, this sudden desire for truth over magic from my daughter. My mental image of her growing up, and becoming a whole person in her own right, is suddenly vivid to me. While the “Santa talk” alone would be a notable event to any parent, the last few days have been full of events in that vein.

About a year ago, she went to a friend’s house for a sleep-over. Around 11:30 that night, I was called to pick her up. She was okay, but sad and homesick. She missed her Mommy, her Daddy, and her own bed. When I got there, she was acting very composed, but her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were a little puffy. I could tell she was very happy to see me. As sorry as I was that she had been upset, it was nice to be needed.

Two nights ago, she tried again: another chance at a sleep-over with the same friend. I told her I thought she would be fine, but that she could call me if she needed to. I would come to get her. I kept the phone with me until bedtime – well after 1:00am. The other phone was in the bedroom, just in case. No call came until the next morning though. She just wanted us to know that she was invited to go shopping and then to lunch before being dropped home. “Okay, dear,” I said. As I hung up the phone, I thought I heard the whoosh of a passing milestone.

The first thing that actually brought my attention to all of this happened that same night. She has her first e-mail account now. In her fifth grade class, each student is given an account on a protected school server as part of their introduction to the internet. She can only e-mail between herself and other addresses that have been pre-approved. She told me that she would read her e-mail while at her friend’s house. I added myself to her list, and sent her a simple note:

Hi Honey,

I just wanted to say “hi”. I hope you’re having fun. I love you.

- Dad

I started to sign “Daddy.” I couldn’t seem to type the last two letters in good conscience, though. The whole intent of the note was that she might get it while sitting with her friend. “Daddy” seemed too little-girly. When did that happen? I wanted to sign “Daddy”, but I suddenly thought that she might rather I didn’t.

That e-mail, the first event, was a small thing, but it left me a little reflective. The phone call, or rather the lack of one, really made me more fully aware. I consciously realized that she is not the same kid she was just a year ago. Her wanting to know about Santa Claus finally drove it all home. In just a day, in just one talk, she had grown up a little bit before my eyes. Of course, “Becoming An Adult” is a gross over-statement of what’s happened in the last few days. She’s changing and growing and becoming something new. She turning in to a different kind of wonderful.

Last night, she sat down beside me on the couch, and wrapped my arm around her. This year’s Christmas tree was before us, freshly decorated. Beyond it, a Christmas special played on the TV. She talked to me about her sleep-over, her up coming science fair, and her memories of the various ornaments we could see that she had made. Soon enough, bedtime came. Before sending her down the hall, I gave her a little squeeze, and told her, “I love you, dear.” She said, “I love you, too, Daddy.”

Daddy. How happy that made me. She is daily taking steps toward the adult part of her life. I’d never try to stop her, but I’m thankful that she still has a ways to go.

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