Someone got my oldest daughter a pink hat for Christmas. Yes, you read that right. A pink hat. They didn’t ask for my permission. They didn’t ask me what I thought. In fact, I didn’t have any idea the pink hat existed until one day before the Newman family left for a day of adventure, Diara was wearing it.

On her head.

Yes, she was wearing a pink hat. Had it tilted just right, and added a special strut to go along with her special hat.

I stopped what I was doing. Everything froze as I stared at the pink hat.

“What is that?”

“What is what?”

“What is that on your head?”

“It’s a hat Dad.”

“Well I can see that (The question is, if I could see that it was a hat, then why did I ask? Only reason I can give is, that is what parents do! We question the obvious.). Where did you get it?”

“I got it for Christmas. From Pauline (her cousin).”

“Oh.”

“You are going to wear it?”

“Yes.”

“Outside? In public?”

She nodded again that she would wear it, but this time she didn’t seem as sure. After looking at the pink hat with a critical eye one last time, I turned to resume my previous activity. It wasn’t until later while we were out did I realize Diara wasn’t wearing her pink hat.

She left it at home. Maybe she had forgotten it.

Days later it dawned on me.

She hadn’t forgotten her beloved pink hat. She hadn’t fallen out of love with her pink Christmas hat. She had simply lost the courage to wear it.

And the worst part of it was, I had taken that courage from her.
Mr. Creativity, Innovation, and Uniqueness had scared his daughter from her“pinkness” into something far less.

I felt horrible about it.

I went up to her room (it was bedtime now), and spoke softly into the darkness.

“Diara? Are you awake?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Well Dad has come here to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For the pink hat.”

“The pink hat?”

“Yes, the pink hat. Not too long ago, you came downstairs wearing a pink hat. And you were really excited about it and proud to wear it.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I remember that night you left it at home. And I haven’t seen you wear it since. It just sits here on your dresser drawer.”

“Yes.”

“Well I know why you didn’t wear it. And that is why I want to apologize. You didn’t wear your pink hat because I made you embarrassed because of your pink hat. You were trying to do something different, orginal, and exciting. But all I did was make you feel small. That was wrong. And I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

I leaned over, giving her a hug and a tender kiss.

“Really Dad?”

“Really.”

“Can you find enough strength, to forgive your Dad?”

“Yes.”

“And one more thing, little girl.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve GOTTA wear the pink hat. I can’t wait to see it.”

May all of us, despite the critics and naysayers, have the courage to wear our pink hats.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 29th, 2010 at 3:26 am and is filed under The Future, Creativity/Innovation, Family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.