My daughter has discovered boys.

 

The ghastly moment of awakening came during a joyful time for our family. My middle daughter celebrated her ninth birthday in true female fashion: she filled our house with fourth-grade girls. Ponytails and curls everywhere, 11 girls in all.

 

They did all the girl birthday party things—played games, laughed uncontrollably, listened to loud music, and painted one another’s fingernails lime green. We served pizza and gallons of Pepsi and just when I began to enjoy the party, the topic of discussion turned to their new favorite subject—boys.

 

I didn’t panic at first. The subject of boys had come before. But usually the conversation was filled with assorted “Oooooos” and “Yuks” and “Gross!” not this time. Disgust was replaced with starry-eyed looks and embarrassed smiles.

 

Since the day of the party, things have gone from bad to worse. The subject of boys and who likes whom comes up almost every night at dinner. I try to eat, but I usually lose my appetite. Now my two oldest daughters think that boys and their previously disgusting habits are cute and irresistible.

 

My jokes seem old and corny, while some strange boy who is too shy to look my daughter in the eye is now the funniest guy alive. With my oldest daughter starting junior high, the phone rings nonstop with one of them on the other end, one of those baggy-pants-wearing, shoulder-slumping, ball-cap-on-backwards boys.

 

What’s a dad to do?

 

My girls and I have talked about dating and marriage since they were old enough to go with me on dad/daughter dates. I’ve demonstrated how a gentle man shows he cares through little things like opening doors and listening. We talked about the importance of dating boys who love God.

 

They didn’t complain when I instructed them on how boys who want to take them out had to first talk to me. They thought it was a great idea. Of course, my oldest daughter was only 6 at the time.

 

Back then, boys were a distant thought—like a tropical depression forming off the coast of the Africa. Now the radar photos show the depression is moving across the Atlantic. Wind speeds are approaching hurricane strength, and we are in its path. The forecast sounds like I will bear the brunt of the storm, which makes me want to run for cover. But that’s not even an option.

 

The same story of boys and love and dating and heartache will also hit each one of my girls. The experience will be different for them, but it is the same storm. They are the ones who will really need shelter. And their mother and I are the only ones who can provide it.

 

They need me more now than ever before. No matter what some boy may say, my girls need to count on me to hear those three little words every day: “I love you.” And they need to see that love in action. They still need my hugs and the expressions of love I gave them as a small child.

 

Perhaps the scariest part of this whole process is that I don’t know how it will turn out. There aren’t any guarantees when it comes to parenting. Nothing I can do will protect my girls from the inevitable heartaches that come when a date is rudely broken or when he “forgets” to call for a week or two. Nor can I sit beside them every moment of every day to rescue them from the temptations they will face when they believe they are really in love.

 

Oh, how I wish I could. But life doesn’t work that way. God builds character through the pain of trials and the fire of temptation. My job as a dad is to prepare them for the inevitable storms and to provide the shelter they’ll need when the wind blows and the rain falls.

 

Maybe I’m overreacting to this talk about boys. There may still be some time left before things get completely out of hand, before boys discover all three of my daughters. In the meantime, I will resort to my old line of defense. I’ll tell my girls that boys are loud and obnoxious creatures that scratch and belch and make all sorts of disgusting noises. Only Dad is different.

 

However, I don’t think they believe me any longer. My girls have discovered boys—and life will never be the same again.