Laughter was all I could hear as my little three-year-old daughter, Joy, ran through the aisles of the children’s toy store I’d taken her to for her birthday. With no idea what to buy her, I had decided to bring her, so she could pick out exactly what she wanted—not that she needed a damn thing. Her playroom was full of things. But birthdays merit presents, so there we were.
As a single father of a little girl, I often found myself wondering what Joy wanted. I sometimes erred on the side of too girly for her. She had a streak of tomboy in her, I could already see. She wasn’t a thing like her mother had been.