Her Father’s Daughter

Flea It’s easy to think of Flea as all mine.

But she’s a product of two people, a combination of genetics and parenting provided by two parents. Sometimes I get a glimpse of myself in my daughter when I see a photograph of myself at school, or when I watch Flea get frustrated that she can’t master something new right off the bat (in precisely the same way I get infuriated by WordPress).

A lot of the time, it’s harder to see my ex’s influence on Flea. She seems to have inherited my solitary nature over his gregariousness; my humour over his more serious nature; my love of swimming over his phobia of water.

This weekend, though, it became clear what Flea has inherited from her Dad.

We were lying on my bed Friday night, and Flea was telling us both a bedtime story featuring her current two favourite teddies, Rabbit and Cat – she’s a literalist, you’ll note.

“Once upon a time, there was a rabbit called Bob and a cat called Pete,” she started. “And they were the best of friends.”

I know, cute, right?

Bob and Pete proceeded to have a “thrilling adventure” that involved climbing up a magic tree and finding a town where everything was made from Haribo sweets and carrot cake. “It was a very unusual day,” admitted Flea.

I was lying on the bed listening to the story and just thinking how gosh-darned cute the whole thing was when the story took a rather unexpected twist. Bob and Cat had just returned home, and had agreed they were the best friends in the whole wide world when…

“Bob gave Pete a big cuddle and suddenly Bob turned into a monolith and went into space, just like in 2001,” said Flea. “Which was a bit strange.”

A science fiction nerd? She’s TOTALLY her father’s daughter. 

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