I have a family friend who warned me when my oldest daughter was a teenager that she was about to depart.
“She’ll be back in her 20s,” he said.
He was correct. I have plans later today to go to the gym with my kid and work out. It’s a newish father-daughter ritual that has come in the wake of her college graduation.
We don’t actually work out together. There’s no talking. She barely acknowledges me in the gym. We’re just in the weight room at the same time, working out in relative proximity, and there’s something about seeing her do pull-ups across the way while I’m on the leg press that appeals greatly to me.
Our other ritual?
Sharing TikTok videos.
This morning, I sent her a video that features a young boy in a baseball cap who appears on the doorstep of a neighbor. The kid is doorbell-ditching, but gets caught by the homeowner, who threatens to call his father.
“Does your dad know you’re out here doing this?” the lady at the door says. “I will call him right now.”
The son is deeply apologetic and explains that his father, indeed, knows. He happens to be in on the prank, the kid explains. Meanwhile, his father is shouting from the street, wondering what the hold-up is.
“I’ve been caught,” the son shouts back.
“Well, run, idiot!” the father cries.