Dear Dad in the Pub on Halloween:
Sir, I owe you an apology.
You see, when I was in the pub this afternoon, I saw you guide your daughters to where we were sitting and my first thought was “Good lord, he didn’t even try to get them dressed.”
The first thing I saw were your two daughters dressed in this incredible mishmash of stripes and pink and sequins and glitter with absolutely nothing matchy matchy on at all. They were bouncing around like little jumping beans. Generally crazy as kids are at times, and because I was stupid and tired (not that it’s an excuse), I debated eating quickly and getting the hell out of the pub.
And then I saw this:
A simple Hot Wheels car.
But there was more. You didn’t cringe when their cry went up that no-we-don’t-want-the-regular-straws-we-want-the-cocktail-straws (honestly I like those better too). You asked them what they wanted to eat. Didn’t say no when one of the answers was the (rather awesome but still messy) pepperoni pizza. And you didn’t flinch when plain pasta and that pizza were eaten with bare hands. You ate it with them, in fact.
And when your youngest begged you to ask the bartender, who was dressed as Michael Myers, to put on his mask and let her see the knife that completed his costume, you called him over without hesitation. You did it even though you knew perfectly well she might scream bloody murder. I heard you describe the movie to her while you waited for him to sneak up on her.
But it was that little Hot Wheels car that opened my eyes. It wasn’t until saw it that realized how incredibly stupid I was to to have ever thought “Wow, he didn’t brush their hair at all, did he?”. As I watched your family, it dawned on me that you’d managed to give your little girls two of the best gifts any child could get in this day and age: freedom and attention. And as I sat next to you in the pub with this dawning sense of shame, I realized how truly judge-y I was.
It’s not about their hair, dammit. Nor their shoes. Or anything else they were wearing that did or didn’t match to my adult eyes. You played with your daughters in the pub. With this little Hot Wheels car. Their fingernails were painted. It looked like yours were too.
Sir, I judged you at a glance without thinking what a lovely family you had, based solely on what your daughters were wearing and I am ashamed of myself. I should have immediately looked to the smiles on their faces instead, listened to the joyous laughter they were sharing with everyone, and paid closer attention to the fact that they clearly and most sincerely loved you to pieces. And that you loved them back just as much.
Forgive me. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll do better from now on.
Much love,
Gaylin