EUAN McCOLM - The question that makes every father's blood run cold: Dad, can you keep a secret from mum? Click here to visit the Scotland home page for the latest news and sport By Euan Mccolm For The Scottish Daily Mail Published: 18:35, 7 August 2024 | Updated: 18:44, 7 August 2024 e-mail View comments I’m thousands of miles and several hours from home with a group of friends when the phone rings. It’s the girl, calling to ask how I’m doing. My heart lifts.
We chat about our days then, just as I’m about to return to my party, the real reason for this lovely interlude becomes clear. ‘Dad?’ she says, that single syllable elongating as its rises in pitch. ‘Can I get my belly button pierced?’ I’m no novice at this game.
I keep my cool and return her serve with a classic. I ask what her mum says? But the girl – 16 now, and no slouch at this dance – is ready. ‘She says to see what you think.
’ Piercing question about keeping a secret that makes every father's blood run cold. Picture posed by model I should have seen that one coming, I admit, but it catches me off guard. Is my view on this matter actually important? Might it influence her decision? I suggest she and her brother come over on the day I return to Scotland, when we can discuss it further, then rejoin my friends at the dinner table.
I’ve been expecting the belly button question for some time. As soon as her mother and I agreed to ear piercings on her 13th birthday, she began agitating for a second pair to be added a year later. Many of you may recognise this scenario.
These ‘negotiations’ can be tense but they only last a few years, so chin up any just starting out on the magical journey that is parenthood. Click here to visit the Scotland home page for the latest news and sport Advertisement In past discussions about the pros (none, I tell her) and cons (oh, darling, so, so many) of piercing her navel, I’ve always gone with a low key ‘it’s not my cup of tea, and then there are the health risks’ approach, seeing the subject off until another day. But we’ve long since passed the point where that can continue.
I’m happy that she called to ask my ‘permission’ but we both know that not only is she old enough now to make her own decisions on a range of issues but that she is also very much her father’s daughter, compelled to do that which authority figures tell her not to. Any sudden moves on my part could be disastrous. I remain fairly relaxed.
I have a secret weapon. I’m on holiday with, among others, my best mate and it just so happens that not only is he a doctor, but that my kids love and respect him (sometimes I wonder if any of them know just how painful that can be). I explain the situation and ask for his best horror stories.
He’s never let me down before and, once again, he steps up. Well, he says, there’s the risk of infection. He describes what might happen.
I make a note to talk to the girl about pus. And then we get into the real gore..
. By the time we’re on pudding, I have created, in my head, the most horrific scenario. I plan to tell the girl that while getting her belly button pierced might seem like a cool idea now, there could be horrendous consequences.
I’ll invite her to imagine pulling off a sweater, it catching on the metal ring speared through her abdomen, and her skin tearing. I will paint a picture of a young woman, blood pouring from a ragged wound, doctors having to stitch her back together. I plan to really go for it.
By the time we’ve finished discussing whether she should get her belly button pierced or not, she’ll be so terrified of what might go wrong that it will have ceased to be a live issue. I will be so successful that word will spread and belly button rings will simply no longer be a thing anywhere on Earth. I congratulate myself on my imagined parenting victory.
I do this because there is a part of me that will forever be an irredeemable idiot. Over the next few days, I think a lot about the girl and her wishes. In common with other parents, her mother and I have put a lot of effort into helping her understand that nobody should ever feel obliged to meet other people’s ideas of what beauty is.
Be yourself, we’ve told her. Don’t try to please others and, whatever you do, never think you have to dress in a certain style or behave in a particular way because it is expected by boys. But am I overthinking it? I have friends with piercings in, let us say, all manner of places and I love and respect those people.
I would trust them with my children’s lives. What’s the big deal if the girl wants to adorn herself as they have? And then the difficult one for dads, in particular. Who am I to tell a young woman, facing challenges from which I was shielded by my masculinity, what she should do with her own body? Am I a huge hypocrite? Is my concern really about my own petty bourgeois inhibitions rather than about whether my daughter might regret her decision? In telling her not to feel pressured by others, am I doing exactly that? Am I good dad or just an awful sexist? Something – which now seems obvious – occurs to me.
What if she just really wants her belly button pierced, she gets it done, and everything’s fine? What if I bite my lip, treat her like the clever young woman she is, and limit my view to advice that she attends a reputable salon? Will the sky fall? In truth, I find the whole matter reassuring. We want our children to develop their independence but it’s rather touching that she has decided to ask for my input on this matter. Have I been such a success at the business of being a dad that, even when my permission is not required, my wise counsel is sought? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? My ex-wife and I text back and forward, creating a plan of action.
She suggests a softly-softly approach. We’ll suggest the girl takes some time to think about it over the summer. We’ll play it cool so that – at all times – the girl believes she is making her own decisions and not being manipulated by two old hands.
Gosh, we really are clever. The poor kid has no idea what she’s dealing with. Back home in Scotland, the girl and her brother come over for dinner.
Of course, I talk to her about pus. And then I ask her to imagine pulling off a sweater and her flesh ripping..
. She looks me in the eye. ‘Dad?’ she says? ‘Uh-huh?’ She places her right hand on her tummy.
‘Can you keep a secret from Mum?’ ‘Absolutely not,’ I tell her. A look of horror spreads across her face. She springs up from the dinner table.
‘I need to make a phone call,’ she says. Earth Share or comment on this article: EUAN McCOLM - The question that makes every father's blood run cold: Dad, can you keep a secret from mum? e-mail Add comment.
