Real Men Get Buffed

I know you’re not supposed to give your kids labels or “personality tags,” but I have one that is nothing short of a hoot.  My 5-year-old is about as gregarious as they get.  There’s nothing and nobody she doesn’t want to meet.  Hers is a ruthless socializing.  It’s exhausting and fun to watch, all at the same time.

Last week my wife promised her that she could have a special experience if she stopped biting her nails.  Our little girl was going to get her first “real” manicure.   Well, if you know my daughter, you know this was a winner from the very beginning.  It had the perfect combination of being fancy, being special, and being all about her.  It was ON.

The day arrived, and there was a small switch of plans.  Instead of Mom, it would fall to me to accompany her for the manicure.  I figured this was a minor challenge for a hip Dad like me, so off I went, unaware of the excellent cultural and parenting  mélange that awaited.

The neighborhood nail salon was pretty empty.  My little girl sat down proudly in her little chair and immediately pronounced “And my Dad will sit next to me and have one as well.”  The nice lady attending to us didn’t miss a beat.  Before I knew it, I was getting my feet soaked and was on my way to getting MAN-icured along with my little girl.

I was completely aware of the spectacle.  I was no doubt the largest person in the salon chair that day, and definitely the only male.  While I knew lots of men came into the salon, I was told I was the only part of a Dadddy-Daughter duo in that salon.  My daughter loved it, and insisted we hold hands for most of the routine.  Only polish and cuticle cutters could separate us.  The ladies in the salon loved it.  Every single one of them stopped by to comment, say something, or ask questions.  And before we knew it, we were talking with the charming ladies of Arlington, and our new friends from Vietnam, all of whom had lots to say about what it meant to be a 5-year-old, how to avoid nail-biting, and their favorite memories of their fathers.  Before I knew it, they’d changed the television channel from OWN to ESPN (a kind gesture, but ironic in my case), and the conversation had gone from nails and parenting to sports, politics, and what it was like to start a business in Washington, D.C. as a first generation immigrant.  A few seconds later, religion came into the mix (it was a BYU game), and we had a full-fledged conversation going.  Lots of great opinions and ideas.

Beyond all the social stimuli, one thing was clear:  my daughter loved being part of something that was special because it was about her and because she knew that not a lot of dads did it with their daughters.  It could have been anything…it was just important that it was about her and Dad.

As we left the nail salon that day, I felt a bit more manly than when I had entered.  I was reminded that being the exception to a rule is often the best way to start a conversation.  My daughter understands this instinctively.  And I got a refresher in socializing while someone worked on my toes.

A friend posted on my Facebook page as I left the salon, “Hey, Aaron – real men get buffed.”  I laughed.  I hadn’t (I’m an au natural kind of man when it comes to my hands) but I agreed with his point.

Indeed they do.