“They’re just going to have to break it in,” I told her, trying to maintain a calm tone. Her big brown eyes looked up at me from her curled-up position on the toilet, seeking assurance. Instead, she roared in Portuguese, “Just break the door down!” to the panicked efforts outside. “I don’t think it was a good idea to lock the door, Dad.” I held my ground. After five years of a carpentry apprenticeship and a year and a half fixing these exact types of doors, I knew the lock wasn’t the problem. It was the latch attached to the handle that had father and daughter locked in a bathroom in Portugal on the first day of holidays.
“It’s kind of an adventure when you think about it?” I liked the idea of being locked away from the outside world with her for a while. This could be magical… “It’s a terrible adventure, Dad!” Fair enough. “We’re never going to get out of here!” I could sense the tears coming, but for some reason, I can read her quicker than anyone. “Don’t even go there, drama llama. Do you see me crying?” She burst into laughter. “Stand back from the door!” came the shout from outside. BANG. “It’s ok, love, there might be some noise.” She groaned, and I picked up her six-year-old body. “What will Rhianna think of this?” I asked, knowing the response.
One afternoon in Dublin, I was awoken from a nap by a video call from her mother. “We have some news for you,” her mother said, smiling. I knew this was some idea they thought was great and I wouldn’t. “I’m getting an iguana!” my daughter burst out. I was right, I am not enthused. Her mother explained they were easy to look after, and the only thing I could offer was that we should call her Rhianna. “What?” They thought it was ridiculous. I thought getting an iguana was ridiculous, so if we were going down that road, why not call it Rhianna the Iguana?
BANG. “It’s my iguana, so I’ll decide her name,” she insisted, unaware that I had created a distraction from the stressful situation. “Just break the door down!” she roared again in Portuguese. We heard multiple adult voices from the other side insisting they were trying everything. She rolled her eyes at their efforts. I didn’t bother asking for a translation. I love hanging out with her. I love following her imagination and opinions. I find the things she comes up with incredible. Obviously, I’m biased—she’s my kid—but even when I meet her friends outside the school at collection time, I’m enthused by their attitudes and way of looking at the world. Comedians love the hack approach of punching down on stage with “I hate kids,” but have you met adults? Awful bunch. Think of some of the adults in your life and the noise they make chewing!
BANG. “I’m bored.” I didn’t like that one. “You know who will be bored? Rhianna! Sitting in a box all day watching you say you’re bored.” The best thing about having a kid is waking up knowing that I don’t come first. It’s a relief to prioritise someone before myself. “I have no underpants,” I realise out loud. “You’ll get some when we get out!”- “Your Mam has my suitcase!” Her Mam was stuck in traffic on the Lisbon Bridge. A truck had flipped. So I wasn’t in any rush to get out of here. All that awaited me was an evening with my daughter’s Portuguese family wearing a t-shirt and a towel. Plus, I’d pulled my back, so if the towel accidentally dropped, I’d have to ask someone else to pick it up!
BANG. She started singing, lost in her own world. Jerry Seinfeld once said his kid would come into the kitchen, eat cereal, and leave, unaware it was the best moment of Jerry’s life. I get that. I wish I was six again. A world of no bills, wars, children suffering, the aftermath of ex-presidents getting shot in the ear. Admittedly, my biggest concern was if the RTE player would work in Portugal for the All-Ireland final. BANG. The door swung open. Jose is topless and dripping in sweat. I did the pointing and loud, slow English speaking thing we do to someone who doesn’t speak English: “It’s this fucking thing!” Her grandparents are sat on the stairs watching the show, and the rental woman is just smiling at me. I wished the door hadn’t opened. This was one of the best moments of my life, and she has no idea. I thank Jose and looked around to hug her, but she is gone. Off on another adventure.