Jesus told us not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.
Naturally, it's another one of Christ's rules that I break, because tomorrow freaks me the freak out. Along with the normal future worries (retirement, savings, lunch), now I start worrying about my daughter. And you know, I worry more about her than anything I've ever worried about.
True, I worry about things that are important. But since my daughter is only 22 days old, my worrying could be taken as a sign that her old man is nuts. Don't believe me? Here are the things that I have found myself thinking about more than once.
• Lucy's first car date. The puppy love doesn't worry me. It's that first time that some punk kid shows up wanting to take Lucy on a date. I was once one of those boys, and my intentions sometimes were less than pure. I'm naive to think that just because it's my daughter, some boy won't be putting his penis' well-being above everything else.
Thank God I'm an excellent shot with a shotgun. I really need to start working out. If I can put in 15 years of nonstop weight-lifting, I'll be much more imposing than I am now.
• Lucy's tonsils being removed. I know all parents worry about their kids getting sick, but the tonsils being removed is the real bummer. Sure you get to eat ice cream, but what parent wants to see their kid in so much agony for an entire week? I don't want to see my daughter in pain like that.
I'm hoping that she never gets sick, but alas, that's a foolish thought.
• "Daddy, I don't really like video games." Somehow, I've always envisioned my daughter and I exploring the greatness that is Megaman 2 or Mickey Mania. My sister and I played the heck out of Sonic the Hedgehog 2, and it's one of those fun memories I'll always have. The idea that I won't get to share those memories with her kind of makes me sad, as I have so many video gaming moments mapped out in my brain already.
Someone has to beat Mommy at Tetris, ya know!
• She won't like spicy foods. Daddy loves to put tabasco sauce on EVERYTHING. I love cooking with spices. Peppers are my best friend. My goal is to build up her spice tolerance so much so that she'll be able to eat the hottest stuff in the world and win a few bets with that strength. But if my daughter grows up thinking cherry peppers are too hot, then that plate of hot wings won't be as much fun to share.
• She grows up hating the New England Patriots. Not going to happen. The trick is, don't be such a zealot, so she won't identify football as this crazy obsession that dad makes me partake in. That said, I'll make sure that she never owns a Jets jersey.
I think every dad should be proud of that resolve.