In which my eight-year-old daughter discovers she's special -- just like all of her sisters

A couple nights ago I was putting my 21-month-old daughter to bed in her crib. I gave her a hug and a kiss. Then, as I laid her down, I said, "Goodnight, A. Remember daddy loves you!"

Then, from behind me, I heard my eight-year-old daughter ask, "You say that to HER too?!!"

This surprises you, dear daughter? Of course I tell her that. I tell ALL my girls that when I tuck them in bed, not just you. Silly goose! I'm an equal opportunity dispenser of love for my children.

An evening spent with my seven-year-old daughter -- and getting critiqued

Scene: C is sitting on my lap, head nestled against my chest.

C: "Daddy, why are your whiskers white?"

Me: "I don't know. Stress?"

C (running her hand over my cheek): "You have such beautiful little white whiskers." A pause. Then, "Keep them that way. Don't grow them out or shave them."

Okay, you like the Don Johnson look. Got it.

C: "What are all those little dots?"

Me: "I don't know. Are you talking about the whiskers that are still dark brown?"

C: "No, the pink dots."

Me: "Oh. I don't know. Zits, maybe?"

C: "Ugh. They're ugly. I hope I never get zits on my face."

Good luck with that, kid! And thanks for the compliment.

C (running her fingers through my hair): "Dad, your hair feels greasy. It always feels greasy. Even right after you wash it, your hair still feels greasy."

Note to self: Purchase degreaser and use it in place of my regular shampoo.

C: "Dad, you look like you could play football."

Me: "What makes you think that?"

C (inspecting my arm closely): "Because you've got big muscles. Your muscles look huge. And you're really good at catching things." A pause. Then, "But you'd probably have a hard time with the running part."

Nothing makes a man feel like a side of beef being looked over by a USDA inspector more than an evening spent with his seven-year-old daughter.