“No daddy, I got it.”

Those are the words that my young daughter has been uttering quite frequently of late. Even though she isn’t even in kindergarten yet, she carries herself as if she was turning 24 years old this coming September and not her actual age of only four years old.

Many of the tasks that her daddy has long been asked to do for her — are no longer needed. 

Removing that peel-off lid from her DANimals yogurt shakes? “No daddy, I got it.”

What about helping her tie her shoes or brushing her hair? “No daddy, I got it.”

There is a very large part of me that is immensely proud that my daughter is embracing being independent at such a young age. She naturally loves to figure things out on her own (from coloring books to learning words), and she loves to ask questions about everything from “why does the moon chase us” to “why trees grow so tall,” and she is never one to be satisfied with the standard “because” or “I don’t know.”

She is inquisitive, determined and whip-smart and loves to do things on her own. Those are exceptional traits for her to have, and a big reason why she is going to be enrolled in Pre-K this fall.

Another part of me though misses the little girl that needed her daddy to do everything. Oh, I am fully aware that is selfish of me to say that, and it is also quite ridiculous to believe that just because my daughter is becoming more and more independent that that somehow I am no longer needed — especially when she is under the age of four. I have been told that the worst will be occurring from the ages of 12 to 24, which will make me lose the rest of my already-thinning hair. That said, it is still somewhat a struggle to watch her grow up. 

I nearly had a breakdown when I came home one day a few weeks ago and my wife had bagged up some of the toys, clothes and other items that our daughter doesn’t play with. Did I man up and help my wife bag up the items and put them in the room for garage sale? Yes I did. Did I also take a few items out of the pile and put it in a different bag for my daughter to have as mementos when she has kids of her own? I plead the fifth. 

It was somewhat of a struggle this past weekend.

My wife and I took our daughter to the fair at The Etouffee Festival in my wife’s hometown of Arnaudville. We have taken her the past few years, including when she was one and a half, which resulted in one of my all-time favorite photos of us together on the carousel. 

This year, though, was the first time that she was tall enough to do all the rides, like the ferris wheel and the super slide.

So she got on the ferris wheel with her two older cousins and did she have any fear when the metal basket moved back and forth high above the fairgrounds? Nope. She cheered and smiled.

Next up was a ride on the Barrel of Monkeys which resulted in yours truly being asked to spin us around “faster” and “faster.”

That was followed by a ride on the carousel, which of course meant she had to pick the pink horse and absolutely did not want me to hold her up at all. I could stand behind her, but there would be no daddy holding her up this year. No sir.

We went through the ride tickets pretty quickly Saturday as she went on The Super Slide three times with her cousins, and rode on a helicopter ride as well. But after being relegated to the sidelines, with the exception of showing off my dart skills that netted a stuffed unicorn with a pink mane, the day was, rightfully so, a “fun with cousins” kind of day as she got to experience all the big kid rides for the first time.

It was a blast but then the cherry on the top was right before we left. We had a few tickets still to use. Her cousins took a few to ride “The Sizzler,” an attraction still too big for our little one. That left us with two tickets, and Hattie wanted to ride the ferris wheel again — and wanted to do so with her daddy, who of course obliged her.

So off we went round and round on the ferris wheel and my daughter, who is blessed to have no fear of heights or apparently the jerky movement of a metal basket, had an absolute blast as she laughed and was overjoyed with the ride. As the ride came to a conclusion, we stepped out of the seat and took a few steps toward the exit gate.

That’s when she turned to me and said, “daddy can you push the gate open for me?” Without hesitation, I smiled and said “of course sweetheart, daddy will get it” and we walked down the stairs hand in hand.

Raymond Partsch III is the managing editor of The Daily Iberian.