Lily has always seen the world in her own bright way. The moon, she insists, follows our car at night because it “thinks we’re funny.” Puddles are “mirrors for the sky.” She is very sure the neighbor’s dog speaks English, but only when adults aren’t around.
That Father’s Day week, we were driving home from the grocery store. She sat behind me in her booster seat, feet kicking lightly, humming to herself as she drew looping shapes on a scrap of paper.
“Yes, kiddo?”
She kept coloring, her voice light as a feather.
“Can you have two dads at the same time?”
Just like that.
No warning. No buildup. Just a question floating into the air like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Inside, something in me jolted awake.
On the outside, I forced myself to stay calm, keep my voice even. I’ve learned with young children that your face can weigh more than your words. One wrong look, and she’d shut down.
“That’s a good question,” I said. “What made you think of that?”
Nothing she said was dramatic on its own.
But the way those pieces fit together… they didn’t match the picture of our home that I thought I knew.
Turning Panic into a “Game”
I felt a cold heaviness settle in my chest. My heart was suddenly beating in two different rhythms: one as her father, and one as a man realizing something might be very wrong.
I didn’t want to scare her. I didn’t want to make her feel she’d done something wrong by telling me the truth as she understood it. So I took a deep breath and did my best to tuck my fear away.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my tone playful, “how about we make a little Father’s Day game?”
Her crayon stopped. “What kind of game?”
“A surprise dinner game,” I said. “You and I will plan a big Father’s Day dinner. Just us. We’ll cook, we’ll decorate, and you can tell me all about your ideas. Everything you know. You can be my ‘secret helper.’”
“Exactly like a mission.”
She loved it. She had no idea I was gently guiding her to share more about what she’d seen and heard. For her, it was fun. For me, it was a way to gather the pieces I needed without putting the weight of adult problems on her small shoulders.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, I had heard enough to know that Father’s Day wasn’t going to be the cozy little celebration I’d been expecting.
It was going to be the day everything became clear.
