Rissa May Stay With Me, Daddy Page

And right now? She belongs with herself. We spend so much time trying to be chosen . The chosen parent for bedtime. The chosen lap for story time. We wear “daddy’s girl” like a medal.

She had just spent the morning at a noisy playdate, the afternoon in a tantrum over the wrong color cup, and now—finally—the apartment was quiet. The castle needed a roof. The dragons needed arranging. And Rissa needed Rissa. That third-person speech (“Rissa may stay”) isn't just cute. It’s developmental armor. Toddlers and young preschoolers use their own name because they are still merging the “me” they feel inside with the “Rissa” the world sees. When she says “Rissa may stay,” she is practicing autonomy. She is rehearsing the sentence: I am a person who gets to decide where I belong. rissa may stay with me, daddy

And here’s to the dads who learn to sit two feet away, waiting patiently for the next lap invasion. And right now

Now, suddenly, she looks me dead in the eye and says she’d rather hang out with... herself. The chosen parent for bedtime

There’s a phrase I never expected to lodge itself so firmly in my chest.