As a girl dad, I’ve learned something important.

There are many things I do not understand.

That’s how my last post started.

BUT.

There is one thing I thought I understood.

And I was confident.

So so confident.
Confident in my logic.
Confident in my reasoning.
Confident that my careful thought process would not only be appreciated… but applauded.

It was a whole system.

There are certain things you just know.
Certain universal truths.

However — I live with girls.

BUZZER.

WRONG.

I have had to completely rewire my brain.
Factory reset.
Update the software.

Think metamorphosis.

Because just like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly…
a normal, logical, well-meaning man becomes a Girl Dad.

It’s not overnight.
It’s not painless.
And it is absolutely not for the stubborn.

If you enter girl-dad life with your chest out, convinced you are correct,
prepare yourself for a lengthy and humbling beatdown.

You will be corrected.
Repeatedly.

But nothing — nothing — has humbled me quite like…

The Toilet Seat.

Every logical argument you’ve ever won.
Every stance you’ve ever defended.
Every hill you’ve ever chosen to die on.

All of it disappears at 2:00am
when you hear a shriek
that lets you know
you have disrupted the ecosystem.

See, I thought this was settled science.

I believed I was being respectful.
Thought I was being courteous.
Dare I say… chivalrous.

I lifted the seat.

And then…

I left it up.

ON PURPOSE.

Left it up like a quiet gentleman saying,
“You’re welcome. I thought of you.”

In my mind this was thoughtful.
Logical.
Proactive.

I removed all doubt.

No one would ever have to wonder,
“Did he lift it?”

You’re welcome.

Turns out…

I could not have been more wrong.

Because apparently the toilet seat is not something you “leave.”

It is something you return.

Like a shopping cart.
A borrowed tool.
Or trust.

Leaving it up does not make you a gentleman.

It makes you a liability.

And let me be clear —
this lesson was not delivered gently.

Nor quietly.

There was frustration.
There were explanations.
There were expletives.

Usually loud.
Sometimes from the youngest one.

I have no idea where she learned language like that.
But I suspect…

 It was usually around 2:01am.

There was a very deliberate tone.

So now?

I approach the toilet seat like it’s a live wire.

Slowly.
Carefully.
With intention.

Seat down.
Lid down (optional, but recommended).
Double check.

Because in a house full of girls, if you get this wrong…

You don’t just inconvenience someone.

You disrupt the ecosystem.

And in this house?

The ecosystem fights back.

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