Does This Baby Make Me Look Straight?: Confessions of a Gay Dad by Dan Bucatinsky

that’s what videotape is for, and she does have to get into college.
    I smiled as I figured out what this love prodding was all about. Obviously a sly little plan to curry favor with her daddy so she could feel a tiny bit more special than her brother, entitling her, perhaps, to a bigger helping of dessert or an extra sheet of Trader Joe’s dried seaweed snack. (Don’t ask me why the kids love these. I’m just so grateful they’re made of actual seaweed and not some corn-syrupy gummy snack that’ll turn her tongue green.)
    “Of course I love Jonah, sweetie,” I said, “he’s my boy. And you’re my girl. I love you both—”
    “Just the same,” she finished my sentence with the preschool equivalent of an eye roll. She’d heard this many timesbefore, just as I’d heard it hundreds of times from my parents when my sister and I used to ask whom they loved more. I smiled.
    “Yes, honey, just the same. And more than you can ever imagine.”
    And then, as she gazed out the window through her Tinkerbell kaleidoscope—the remains of a goodie bag she found under her booster seat—she said, “Even though Jonah doesn’t want you?”
    I almost drove into a mailbox. “What, sweetie?” I was unsuccessfully trying to keep the panic out of my voice. She repeated it. I processed the words slowly in my head. What on earth was she thinking? Of course I had to consider the source, yet I suddenly got a sinking feeling I remembered from my first job waiting tables in New York at the Manhattan Chili Company. After a week of watching me drop ponderous bowls of chili on the floor as I tried to balance ramekins of chopped onions on the knuckle of my thumb, the staff prepped me for my inevitable firing. Had Jonah been slipping hints to his sister that “things weren’t working out”; I may not be cut out for this kind of work; and he was going to have to consider “making a change”?
    Fuck that. I’m the daddy , I told myself, my grown-up maturity, self-confidence, and authority at war with a ridiculous yet deep-seated need for my kids’ approval.
    “What do you mean, he doesn’t ‘want’ me?” I asked, through my very best trying-to-act-casual laughter. Eliza explained.
    “Jonah only wants Papi to put him to bed. Not you. Papi. Only Papi.”
    Now I could see where this was coming from. And it was true, around this time Jonah was going through a particularly intense bonding thing with Don. It was amazing, actually, how Jonah would call Don his “buddy” and he’d look for him first in any room. It was heartwarming and sweet. I loved seeing how bonded he was to his papi. Did I have the occasional pang of jealousy? Sure. But I knew kids go through phases. Sometimes Papi is the favorite. “Sometimes” as in “sometimes the sun comes up in the morning.” And sometimes Jonah asks for Daddy. “Sometimes” as in “sometimes there is an earthquake in your backyard.”
    “Eliza, that’s okay. Sometimes you want Papi and sometimes you want Daddy. And the same goes for Jonah. We all love each other. It’s okay.” And of course what I said to her was true. But if I had to be honest, there are times it doesn’t exactly feel like a warm bath of love when the kids would only seem to want Don to do bedtime, read stories, sit next to them, you name it.
    “Papi, can I drive in your car?” Jonah whines.
    “Me too!” Eliza pipes in.
    “No, Jonah, today you’re driving with Daddy!” Explosion of tears.
    Or in the morning: “Papi, sit next to me!” Eliza calls out.
    “No, Eliza. Papi sits next to me!” Jonah argues.
    “I asked first!” Eliza’s voice gets louder.
    “ No! You got to last time!” Jonah now shouts.
    Don squeezes between them on the bench. “Look, guys! You can both sit next to Papi.” The kids smile from ear to ear. So does he, and I’m not sure he’s trying to hide it.
    Hooray! Yippee! Papi saved us from having to sit next tomean, stinky, boring Daddy, who played with us all morning before