The Daddy Dilemma

As is indicated in the previous post, yes, I still call my Father "Daddy". This has made me occasionally the brunt of jokes since Junior High, when the cool thing to call your dad was more along the lines of "that dude who cramps my style" or "(insert first name here) who doesn't understand me". 

On my mission, I recall riding in the mission van with the assistants and office elders on Mother's Day at the appointed time for the call form my parents. Right on schedule, our cell phone rang and the screen lit up with "unidentified caller". I quickly pressed the answer button and shrieked, "DADDY?!?" After asking him to call back in a few minutes when we were at the mission home, I hung up to a silent van. After five seconds Elder Deru asked semi-incredulously, "Daddy? Really, Sister Redd? How old are you?"

In my defense, the family tradition of us daughters using the term Daddy has a long and storied tradition going back to the early childhood days of Standin' Tall story tapes (a staple of every 80s Mormon childhood) and an unhappy princess who wandered the halls of her palace calling, "Daa-ddy! King Daa-ddy! Where aaare you?" We thought it was hilarious and often referred to our Daddy as "King Daa-ddy".

So what if I am, as the Elders teased, a "Daddy's girl"? I like it , and I love my Daddy. Yes, maybe sometimes when he's absorbed in a book I may have to call him Jim to get his attention, but he'll always be my Daddy.