Daughters rule dads with cunning: Phillip Morris

The Colombian novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez once wrote that, “one does not love one’s children just because they are one’s children but because of the friendship formed while raising them.”

The 81-year-old Nobel Laureate has a wife and two sons. If Marquez had had a daughter, I’m not so sure he would have written such a clinical assessment. A daughter’s love is different from a son’s.

Men often form close friendships with their sons, friendships that in some ways resemble the loving relationship they might have with a family pet or a remote control. The relationship is simple and transparent.

But daughters present a different set of challenges. The father-daughter friendship is more one-sided and complicated. The clever daughter quickly learns to reduce the disparity in age and experience of the father to level the playing field in her favor.

She does this by constantly testing and winning her father’s heart. She hones her conspiracy by becoming a perpetual flirt. From the time she comes to understand the power of the word, “Daddy,” she uses the expression to her advantage and stealthily takes control of the friendship.

She uses the word and all that it implies to constantly reassure her “Daddy” that she loves him and, more importantly, needs him. She uses it when she prepares to spring surprises. She uses it lyrically and softly whenever she wants something.

The most highly skilled and manipulative daughter can magically turn the word into a gentle command.

This sort of “friendship” maneuvering does not work on mothers, unless perfected by a son. Women understand the cunning that courses through a young girl’s veins. Where fathers see innocence, mothers recognize trickery. Mothers are immune to the traps girls set for fathers but are sometimes willing to assist them in their deceit.

I learned this lesson in “friendship” again this past Christmas. This time the lesson came with a boot.

I had never heard of Ugg boots before Friday, Dec. 19. I had seen the boots on women and teenage girls, but I had no idea what they were or how much they cost.

I was mostly struck by the boots’ ugliness and the willingness of some women to wear them in the summertime with shorts or pajamas.

But when I heard Faith’s mother tell her, in no uncertain terms, that there would be no Ugg boot for Christmas, I should have recognized the fix was in.

Faith, who rounds her age up to 10, shot me a glance that was both pensive and authoritative. But she said nothing.

“Your feet are still growing and I will not pay that much for boots. Maybe you’ll get a knock-off brand, if they’re not already sold out,” she continued.

I’m now convinced they were Ugg co-conspirators. The child silently played me like the viola she tucks under her chin whenever she conspires to soften my resistance. Her mother assisted.

The next day, I bought Faith her $160 pair of Uggs.

I knew it represented conspicuous consumption. But I rationalized. It’s winter in Cleveland. She needs these overpriced, ugly boots, I thought.

No, she didn’t.

But that’s what daughters do:

They carefully raise their daddies.