In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First!.”
You have to love daughters. Warm and cuddly little girls that say the cutest things and know that daddy is wrapped around their little tiny finger.
But then they begin to grow… Mature… And discover… BOYS!
It must be instinct in a man not to like the very first (or several after that) boy that seemingly shows up on the hand of a daughter.
That first time our oldest brought a boy home, every ounce of me began to plot his demise.
Before that young man spoke a word, my mind already settled on the weapon and his final resting place. All the while savoring the panic in his eyes.
It was a tough choice to smile and shake his hand. But the words nice to meet you simply would not come out.
I fired questions and glares at him from every direction as I paced. Circling him like a piece of wounded prey.
I fumed with smoke rolling out my ears while my daughter sighed and rolled her eyes.
His eyes darted about but always seemed to land on one specific spot. My old rifle that hangs on the wall in plain sight.
Oddly enough their courtship only lasted a few days.
For you younger men out there think about us over protective dads from our view point:
It is our job as a Dad to protect the girls from guys like we remember being in our late teen years.
I have fond and wonderful memories of those years, and I know full well the kind of guy I need to protect her from.
One wrong move and the mental scenario of your demise… Well, have a nice day son but I don’t advise you stop by again anytime soon!