Rissa May Stay With Me, Daddy High Quality -

When Rissa says, “Stay with me,” she’s not pushing me away. She’s inviting me into a more advanced level of trust. She’s saying: I know you’re right there if I need you. But for now, I’ve got me. I sat down two feet away from her castle. Not inside it. Not directing it.

But then I watched her for a minute. She wasn’t being rude. She wasn’t rejecting me. She was doing something far more important:

There’s a phrase I never expected to lodge itself so firmly in my chest. rissa may stay with me, daddy

I heard: “Rissa may stay with me.”

And right now? She belongs with herself. We spend so much time trying to be chosen . The chosen parent for bedtime. The chosen lap for story time. We wear “daddy’s girl” like a medal. When Rissa says, “Stay with me,” she’s not

She squirmed down, patted my knee with the condescension only a preschooler can muster, and walked back to her castle. Without looking up, she said it:

The Shifting Tides of Parenthood

“Okay, Rissa,” I said. “Rissa may stay with Rissa. And Daddy will stay right here, reading his book. Let me know if the dragons need backup.”