My world changed the other day when I asked my soon to be eleven year-old daughter to do something simple like "Put away your stuff, it's time for bed" and she said "No".
"No dad, I'm busy."
According to my wife, the creature that used to be my sweet, accommodating, always willing to please daughter started growing armpit hair sometime in the past few months. It is the beginning of the end for me.
You see, the beast that is growing under her arms is apparently talking to my daughter, wooing her away from me and I know that I can't compete. Soon, the beast will introduce her to those wily, mop-topped, squeaky voiced things called teenage boys and I will no longer be relevant -- except as a walking ATM. I know the transformation is slow and the metamorphosis is a long way from being complete, but I miss her already. Unfortunately, I see a light at the end of the tunnel and as sure as I am Elmer Fudd, it's a train engine not salvation.
So this weekend, I think I'll make a couple of trips to Home Depot and IKEA. I might as well start outfitting the backyard shed now while the weather is good because like the pet that has fallen out of favor, I'm soon to be relegated to the doghouse.
Besides, once puberty actually hits full force and she and my wife start "cycling" together, I'm pretty sure the shed is going to be the safest place me -- the only estrogen challenged creature in the house.