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.