As a father, I often find it challenging to comprehend my daughter’s feelings, but that never deters me from attempting to connect with her.
It was a Saturday morning, just after 10 a.m., when I found myself in the living room with my 7-year-old daughter, Ella. She was clad in a bright blue nightgown adorned with characters from her favorite movie and was deeply focused on her drawings on a whiteboard. After breakfast, while I was busy tidying up the kitchen, I stumbled upon a crumpled piece of notebook paper on the table. Curiosity got the better of me, and I unfolded it. What I saw was a whimsical portrait—though the nose resembled a boot and the lips seemed overly large, it was unmistakably the work of a young artist.
In the upper right corner, I spotted her name: “Ella.”
“Did you create this?” I inquired, holding it up.
Ella spun around, her expression shifting rapidly as she noticed what I was holding. “Dad, you need to give that back to me right now!”
I took a hesitant step back. “Why? It’s adorable!”
“No, it’s not!” she exclaimed, her brows knitting together in a way that made it clear she was serious. “It’s embarrassing! It makes me look like a geek.”
With that, she marched over, snatched the drawing from my hands, and began tearing it into shreds as if it were evidence of a crime. She then stomped into the kitchen, tossing the pieces into the trash. A misty-eyed expression of determination crossed her face as she curled up on the sofa, burying her face in the arm farthest from me.
I sat there for a while, unsure of how to respond. With my son, things were more straightforward. When he gets upset, he usually needs a moment to himself before we can talk it out. He’s a lot like me. But Ella? She wears her heart on her sleeve, and when emotions hit her, they often come with a dramatic flair.
In this instance, I felt lost. The previous night had been long and challenging with our toddler, who had finally settled down. My partner had gone back to bed, leaving me alone with Ella, who was still visibly upset.
I settled next to her, attempting to comfort her by rubbing her back, but she swatted my hand away, still hiding her face. So, I chose silence for a moment.
Eventually, she broke the quiet. “Sophie drew that,” she murmured.
“Oh,” I replied, finally recalling that Sophie was a friend from her school. They had sat next to each other during their last art session, and evidently, Sophie decided to depict Ella.
“I just look so stupid,” she added, her voice barely rising above a whisper.
While I wouldn’t take a friend’s less-than-flattering drawing of myself too seriously, I recognized that this was one of the many hurdles I faced in helping my daughter navigate her emotions. It dawned on me that this might have been the first time Ella saw herself through someone else’s eyes. Sure, she’d seen her reflection in mirrors, but this was different—this was an external perspective, and it had struck a nerve.
“Ella,” I began gently, “your mom and I are total geeks. We wear glasses and love talking about books. Being a geek is perfectly fine.”
Ella let out a sigh that seemed to say, “You just don’t understand.”
The truth was, I didn’t fully grasp her feelings, and a realization hit me: I might never completely understand her. Loving someone so deeply but failing to comprehend their emotions is a unique struggle, one I also face with my partner. Despite my best intentions, I often feel lost when it comes to navigating the differences in our perspectives, especially when it involves my young daughter.
“I’m not going to dismiss that drawing as just bad art,” I conceded, “because I know you might not believe me. I also doubt I could create a better image of you. But what I can say is that your eyes are such a vibrant blue. That’s special. Your nose is adorably small, and you got that from your mom. Your smile is warm and inviting, and it draws people in. You have keen ears that pick up on things I often overlook. Yes, you inherited my cheeks, which are a bit nerdy on me, but they suit your lovely jawline perfectly. Your mouth asks the best questions, and I cherish that about you. If I could paint your portrait, that’s how I’d portray you.”
Although she didn’t look up, I could see her ears perk up, indicating that my words were resonating with her. Slowly, she sat up, turned to me, and buried her face into my side, her arms wrapping tightly around me.
As a father, I seize every chance to affirm my daughter’s worth. I realize that while my perspective matters, her self-image is what truly counts. I told her that, albeit perhaps not as eloquently as I intended. She squeezed me tighter.
“I can’t say if what I shared changes how you feel, but I sincerely hope it does. I love you.”
We remained in that embrace for a while. While I wasn’t certain if she felt entirely better about herself, I left with the feeling that I had lifted her spirits even just a bit. And as a father navigating the complexities of parenting, that felt like a significant victory.
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Conclusion
In summary, as a father, understanding a daughter’s emotions can be challenging, but it’s essential to keep trying. It’s important to validate their feelings and help them see their beauty, both inside and out.