One of the hardest things to describe, I think, is the love a father has for his daughter. I have both a son and a daughter, and no matter how many things you have in common with your son—football, gaming, mutual eye rolls at ridiculous things—having a daughter is just different.

They can do no wrong. Fact. My three-year-old could probably knock over the telly while swinging a toy unicorn and I’d still find a way to blame someone else. You just want them to be happy, at all costs. And when I say “at all costs,” I mean financially, emotionally, and spiritually. I am, without question, a complete pushover when it comes to her.

The Sweet Shop Scam

Take a simple trip to the shop. In theory, I’m popping in for milk and bread. A standard adult responsibility. But somehow, I leave with a bag full of sweets, a Peppa Pig magazine, and whatever other item caught my daughter’s eye at that precise moment. Every. Single. Time.

I even try to stand firm. “No sweets today.” I say it with authority. Like I actually mean it. But then she looks up at me with those big innocent eyes, maybe pouts a little, and next thing I know, we’re walking back to the car with enough sugar to single-handedly power a primary school birthday party.

Am I a pushover? 100% yes.

Do I care? Not even slightly.

Will I continue to do it, much to the annoyance of her mum? Absolutely.

The Sibling Injustice

This is where things take a bit of a turn. My son, poor lad, has to actually earn things. He has his own spending money, and if he wants something but doesn’t have enough, well, he has to figure it out. Save up. Do extra jobs. Find a solution.

My daughter, however? Different rules. If she so much as points at something in a toy shop, it’s hers. A pink fluffy unicorn? Done. A talking baby doll? Absolutely. A toy that makes excessive noise and will drive me mad within an hour? Already at the till.

My son is understandably unimpressed with this dynamic. I tell him, “Son, one day, you’ll understand. Maybe when you have a daughter of your own.” That doesn’t really help him now, but in the grand tradition of dads everywhere, I consider it a ‘life lesson’ rather than outright hypocrisy.

The Horse Dilemma

Now, I haven’t completely lost my mind (yet), but I can already see where this is going. If my daughter ever says, “Daddy, I want a horse,” there’s a solid 95% chance I’ll be Googling ‘how to build a stable in a semi-detached house’ by the end of the week.

I mean, I’d tell myself I’d hold firm, that I’d explain the logistics, the expense, the impracticality of having a horse in the back garden. But then she’d look up at me with those same eyes, maybe throw in a “please, Daddy”, and next thing you know, I’d be registering for riding lessons and pricing up horse feed.

Mum’s Jealousy

My partner, understandably, finds this all mildly infuriating. Not because she doesn’t love our daughter, but because she sees first-hand just how effortlessly she gets what she wants from me.

“She’s spoilt,” she tells me.

“She eats too many sweets,” she adds.

“Why don’t I get the same treatment?” she asks, only half-joking.

I remind her that I buy her plenty of things. She raises an eyebrow. Apparently, buying her a new iron when the old one broke does NOT count as a romantic gesture. Who knew?

What’s Next?

For now, my daughter hasn’t quite figured out that she holds unlimited power over me. But I know it’s coming. One day, she’ll work out the exact formula for getting whatever she wants, and I’ll be utterly doomed.

Until then, I’ll just continue my regular ‘essential’ trips to the shop and pretend that somehow, I’m still in charge around here.