The Lawyer’s Daughter

The Lawyer’s Daughter threw the door to my room open and marched in, idea buried firmly in her mind.

“Daddy, I want some juice in a cup with a lid.”

She’s been drinking from “big girl” cups for a while now, but since Adrian has graduated from bottles to soft-lidded cups Erin has been wallowing in her memories of snap-on lids and cups without straws.

Seeing her framed in the doorway, posturing, not pleading, I was struck in my soft middle by adoration. “Come here, baby girl,” I beckoned; and when she drew near enough I engulfed her in my arms and held her close, burying my nose in her hair and then swinging her from side to side in paternal enthusiasm. I kissed her cheek and tickled her until she squealed, and when I finally let her go I was lost, fully converted to her religion.

“You can have anything you want. Tell me what you want.”

“I want a cup with a lid,” she replied, pragmatically.

“Okay, you can have it. You can have anything. Anything at all, just ask for it and I will get it for you.” I was completely in love with her, this Lawyer’s Daughter, and as any fool in love will do I pledged impossible feats to prove the depth of my feelings.

“Anything, baby girl. What do you want in the whole world?”

She considered the problem for a moment, clearly engaged in a long index of the world’s offerings, and then she revealed what she wanted most from me.

“I also want some juice, daddy,” said the Lawyer’s Daughter.

She may not be dreaming large dreams at the moment, but she’s certainly dreaming dreams without loopholes.