By Garret Leiva
Community editor
May 07, 2008 04:00 am Sometimes you can exercise independence by taking a single step -- even if you don't make it out the front door. Even though it was the epitome of an idle threat, this weekend our daughter uttered the phrase used by disenchanted children everywhere -- I'm outta' here! I think her exact words were "I'm running away from home ... Daddy would you come with me?" Admittedly, I was tempted to pack a Huck Finn sack and hit the road. No one said life was fair -- certainly not parents -- but try telling that to a 6-year-old. Fairness is often akin to a life of never ending lollipops and rainbows. In this case, fairness is equated to an endless friend sleepover. For kids, the friend sleepover is a big deal. It means extra pillows, sleeping bags and lots of giggling after bedtime. It can eventually lead to Truth-or-Dare, sneaking out and other concerns for the likes of dads, fathers and the Old Man. For the time being it's all innocent fun. No need to grill a 5-year-old boy about his intentions concerning your daughter -- even if he is wearing her pajama shorts to bed. About that, let's just say accidents happen. However, the flower pajamas with camouflage T-shirt photos might end up at a high school graduation party someday. Overall the sleepover went well despite the lack of, well, sleep. Although at one point my wife told our daughter to "leave the bedroom door open" in order to keep an ear out. Again, I had a fleeting fatherly moment of flicking the porch light to signal the end of a date or conducting hand checks on the couch. I tend to get ahead of myself to stop life from sneaking up from behind. Now good-byes are never easy -- especially during Saturday morning cartoons. When it came to say farewell to her friend, our daughter gave a glimpse of preteen to come. She pouted her lips. She crossed her arms. She curled up into a "woe is me" ball. After her friend left, she sulked in her room and role-played with her Barbies about the unfairness of life. I don't know if Hate-Your-Parents Barbie put the idea in her head, but minutes later our daughter came downstairs to tell us that she was running away -- and if I'd go with her. I informed her that my presence would defeat the purpose. Besides, she hadn't even packed a snack. She made it to the front door. Next time I fully expect her to pack a bag for the end of the driveway. I'm sure my parents stuffed a sack for me -- probably quite often between the ages of 15-18. Out in the driveway that evening, we shot hoops and talked about not running from problems. As a parent, staying a step ahead is never easy -- especially with inevitability always on your heels.
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Garret Leiva, Community editor