Day 347: Shirt off my back...

For years, LONG before I was married the first time, I knew that some day I wanted a daughter.  For so many reasons but no less the fact that I wanted to see this little princess running around the house in one of my over-sized t-shirts.  With long messy hair, a Barbie in hand and one of my t-shirts that flowed like a long, cotton gown, that was my Sam.  As was typical of me, I usually set aside a collection of shirts she could wear because let's face it, kids are magnets for dirt and stains.  But my Sam being Sam, she found one of my favorites and insisted on wearing it.  Against my better judgement I conceded, which wasn't the first or last time I caved to that little angel.  I watched her settle up on the couch, wearing one of my favorite t-shirts and holding a large and very ominous bowl of chocolate ice cream.  No sooner did I say "PLEASE be careful" that a large dollop of ice cream fell from her spoon and plopped right on the shirt.  As much as I really wanted to be angry, and I might have been a little, I distinctly remember looking at that sweet, little face with that semi-sheepish grin and I knew I couldn't be angry.

Soon enough, though, they outgrow the desire to wear one of your shirts.  But since the days we started dating to the present my Julie likes to go into my drawer to pull out my t-shirts for sleeping and I can't begin to tell you have much I love that.  Something about my girl in an over-sized t-shirt is so damn adorable.  And as with my first angel, I separate my t-shirts into two stacks, the "Julie" T's and the "Please don't use these because I need them for dress shirts" T's.  On occasion there are border violations and every so often I'll find one of my good T-s with a stain or two that didn't come from me (no, I don't wear makeup).  So these days with laundry as one of my many additional duties it's not uncommon to find a shirt or two with a little stain but even though there's a little twinge of irritation, it quickly dissolves into the warmth of an "ahhhh" moment, knowing that my girl likes to wear my shirts.

So I've been fortunate to have two girls in my life who wanted to wear my t-shirts.  Perhaps one day when I'm a grandfather there might be a little tike or two that might say, "Papa John, can I wear your t-shirt?"  Ahhhhh, I can feel my heart melting already.  "Sure, sweetheart.  But NO eating ice cream!"