Little Girls and Long Brown Curls

Saturday, June 4th, 1988. Just another typical weekend morning for me. I was reclined in my lounge chair in front of the TV, sipping a cup of coffee and watching Garfield and Friends. These were the Saturdays I enjoyed. Totally relaxed, no socks on, not a care in the world.

For my wife Cheryl, her Saturday was more frantic.

“Would you get out of that chair and throw my bag in the car? I’m going to have this baby right here on the carpet!”

And without waiting around to find out how Garfield was going to steal John Arbuckle’s lasagna we headed to the hospital.

We had decided we didn’t want to know the sex of the baby, well at some point yes, but for the nine-month waiting it was to be a surprise. It didn’t matter though; I knew it was a boy. I had already named him Caleb John-Paul Mitchell. Caleb was a man in the Bible who Moses sent into the promised land as a spy and came back to say, “We can take the land!” John, for Cheryl’s dad, Paul, for my dad, and Mitchell because I was hoping he’d want my last name. For nine months I had been planning and dreaming about teaching him how to ride a bike, fish, hunt, swing on a rope, camp, be in Boy Scouts . . . dad and son stuff.

This was the “B” day invasion and the day was frustrating and long.  They were out of cinnamon rolls in the cafeteria and Roxanne was in reruns. I lamented the fact that I hadn’t paid closer attention to the Lamaze breathing techniques.  One nurse in the room who didn’t understand my attempts asked me if I was trying to impersonate King Louie in “Jungle Book.”

Finally, the moment came. First the little head appeared face down. Then the shoulders and back. I was impressed by his Tarzan-like physique. Then, as his little butt slid out, I was sure I saw all the indications I needed.

“It’s a boy!” I yelled.

“It’s a girl.” the nurse said smiling at Cheryl.

“What?” I asked. “What? Check again please.” And right at that moment, Caleb John-Paul became Kalene Elizabeth.

Now, I’m not going to lie. I was initially very disappointed in the outcome of this birth. What in the world was I going to do with a little girl? But very soon, I realized that little girls are wonderful. I even called my brother and sister and yelled, “Hey, you should get one of these too!” And they each had a little girl.

Now a word of friendly advice to all you dads with daughters: date your little girl. Show her how a real man should act. Show her by how you treat your wife. Praise them both. Tell them how beautiful and valuable they are. Shower them in love and when your daughter has grown, she will know exactly the type of man she will want to date and marry. You shouldn’t have to worry because he will be a lot like you.

And by the way, even though all my dreams didn’t happen the way I had planned, I wouldn’t trade that one little girl for ten little boys.

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