I waited until relatively late in life to start having kids. It’s just the way it worked out. With my son, this could present a problem if he decides to become an athlete, as pretty soon throwing a baseball around will be about as attractive a prospect to me as an annual prostate exam (and will probably occur with about the same frequency).
With my daughter, however, age just might give me an advantage. I may not be as quick as I once was, but experience has given me cunning. And I’m going to need every bit of guile at my disposal in order to deal with the problem I can already see unfolding right in front of my eyes. She’s going to be gorgeous. The drop-dead variety. This isn’t just my opinion as a dad who naturally thinks his kids are perfect and all that. I’ve seen signs. Bad signs. And they all point to a gigantic headache once my little girl gets boobs.
What signs? Well, sometimes she’ll come home from preschool with a toy or three in her backpack that weren’t there in the morning when she left. At first we thought she was stealing, until the teachers informed us that she often receives “gifts” from the boys. Super. Not to mention the kid from up the street, we’ll call him $#£@head, who nearly falls off his bike staring at her whenever she makes an appearance on the front lawn. $#£@head is at least three years older than my daughter.
Things are only going to get worse from here, I’m sure, and clearly a preparatory strategy must be implemented. I’m not a particularly big or scary-looking guy, so the intimidation gambit will probably have to be ruled out. A more cerebral approach (or as close as I can manage) will likely be required to keep all the drooling, pubescent miscreants at bay. My action plan has yet to be finalized (pending a comprehensive review of local statutes, etc) and is subject to change, but here are a few of the bullet points I’ve worked up so far: