Leaving the soccer field last night, Claire said “I want to have a daddy.” Yeek! It was boiling hot, we were all exhausted, Anna was whining and crying her way to the car. I was carrying the folding chairs, the bag, the water. I had no energy for this kind of discussion. Not to mention the setting of the parking lot was not as I’d hoped.
“Oh yeah? Why do you want a daddy?” I asked. There are plenty of dads at soccer — I was anticipating the “someone to kick the ball with” and I was ready to volunteer (ugh) for the job. But nope.
“I want you to be married. I don’t want you to be alone.”
Ah, my precious first child, worried, as always, more about me than herself. This is Claire to a T. Sensitive, thoughtful, far too invested in me. Marriage has been discussed a lot lately, with her marrying me off to various people — Grandma was her first choice (mine too, frankly).
I assured her I was not alone, I had my two girls, and that I loved to be single. I was very happy being single. I didn’t say the rest – I’m forty-something, with two small children. Before they arrived to enrich my lovely quiet self-sufficient life, I’d lived alone, very happily, my entire adult life. I didn’t say that I never want to get married, and don’t imagine I ever will. I didn’t say that some of us are meant to be single, and happily so. If she is going to see marriage as a wonderful thing, to be pursued, I don’t want to discourage her. So I simply repeated that I love being single.
“But I don’t want you to be alone. I want to marry you when I grow up.”
I agreed that she could. We haven’t set a date.