I’m just a money machine.
“D-a-a-d,” she croons, in a voice that is as dulcet and sweet as confectioner’s sugar.
PATERFAMILIAS FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM BY STEVEN MCBREARTY34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 68
My role as paterfamilias has devolved into one simplified, streamlined process—buying things. The former, multifaceted roles I once played—companion, mentor, guide, protector, fall guy, comic relief—have become vestigial appendages, like tonsils.
Now I’m just a money machine (albeit with a low daily withdrawal limit).
“Daughter,” I proclaim to my 13-year-old daughter, attempting to be conversational, humorous, contemporary, “with it”—qualities I consider pre-eminent in myself and invaluable in my role.
Meagan is a sweet, beautiful young thing transforming with frightening rapidity into a woman, bursting out of her former shape and style, like a rose in time-lapse photography.
“What, Dad?” says she, imbuing the “what” with a certain sarcastic impatience, a tone parents everywhere recognize instantly. The “what” of the…