When Daddy's Little Girl Starts Dressing Like a Ho

Now that it's getting warmer I've been walking the five blocks to the El. It's good for my waistline, and good for my spirits. I walk past a high school, and that pass-by has got me thinking. Now I'm not a father so my parental insights might be skewed toward the romantic. I haven't been up half the night with a crying Johnny or Sally, I haven't seen my energy level flat-line - well, I have but for other reasons, and I haven't been held captive in my shrinking four walls wondering where my life has gone. So like I said I might be talking out of my ass here, but speaking of ass - Jesus, have you seen these kids?

I see these young girls with their not-so-young bodies and I wonder about dad. What's he thinking? Can he see what I see? Are there special dad-blinders? Is there some kind of quick-change that happens when the girls get outside? If he is seeing what I'm seeing does he weep for the Sally he once had - the one who didn't wear a thong so visible above her jeans? The one whose crayon drawings he still holds dear.

It's gotta be tough being dad.