Princess, it’s your birthday. Again. Sh!t.

I’m constantly reminded of the fact that I’m getting older, besides having to deal with un-gel-able grey hair and awkward croaks that escape my body (not my mouth) every time I get up.  The biggest indication would be the fact that my kids are now at an age where they seem to grow an inch a day.  It’s like living with X-men who has the genetic mutation of excessive growth.  It’s hampering our plans of keeping their closets filled with decent clothes to wear, preventing them from running around naked.  But it’s not working.  Not even close.

It’s been another year in the life of Princess.  She’s even more beautiful, which I didn’t think possible, blossoming into an exquisite young woman.  She’s also getting a personality, which is much better than not having one.  My existence is also a lot more challenging these days, as I now have two creatures under my roof who seems to have more estrogen than br…. Never mind.

Birthdays are etched on our hearts and circled on calendars with prostitute-nail-polish-red markers so we don’t forget them.  And remembering your kid’s birthday is not only crucial in avoiding emotional manipulation, but more importantly, it’s a requirement for budget purposes.  Gifts and parties are damn expensive and if you’re unprepared, well good luck paying your bond at the end of that month.  Besides, with Dude and Princess in the house, it’s not like they’ll allow us to forget the day they entered the world via their Mother.  Which is a different post for a different day.

Today is a celebration of the birth of Princess.  It’s also a day where I feel ancient and lost.  Where I panic and refuse to accept how quickly she’s growing up.  It’s another day where she’ll have to face the fact that I’m going to call her my little girl in front of everyone.  It’s a day where I have to violently shake the notion of some douche walking through my front door, trying to take her from me… which reminds me…

“I have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for boys who want to date my daughter. If you leave her alone, that’ll be the end of it.  If not, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will be watching.  Every step of the way.”

Princess, you and Dude are the light of my life, the funny-bone of my heart, a kick-start for my soul.  I’m a better person for being your Dad.  It’s an honour and the bestest, damn job in the whole wide world.  May the smile in your eyes never disappear or fade with the realities of growing up.

I pray that you have the greatest day as you turn 12.

I know I’ve already posted a poem for you last year, but decided to attempt another one this year.  It’s my cheap gift, as we’re having to increase our mortgage for the real one.

(If you battle to read the poem, it’s not your eyesight failing, just click on the pic for a larger version.)

OMG, it's my little girl!

OMG, it’s my little girl!


19 thoughts on “Princess, it’s your birthday. Again. Sh!t.

  1. I grow old … I grow old …
    I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
    Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
    I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
    I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
    I do not think that they will sing to me. (T.S. Eliot)

    Happy Birthday Princess! But, ah! Pieter, you ain’t half old yet! So keep living!


  2. Happy Birthday to your beautiful princess. 12 is a big one! Do not fret too much Dad, although she may seek out a handsome prince some day, you will always be her #1 guy in her heart. Trust me on this one:0)


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