
This article is sponsored by Bitty Baby™ from American Girl
“I can explain.” Those are the words you lead with when you’re still making up an explanation in your head. For when something is a little out of whack, and you’re not quite sure how you ended up in that situation. That’s where I found myself, holding a baby doll and with my nails freshly painted pink, at a college basketball watch party full of bros.
I grew up with all brothers, so I didn’t know what to expect when I found out my firstborn was going to be a girl. I wasn’t disappointed, it’s not like I found out while holding a mini baseball glove and tiny football helmet; I just had no idea how to play with a little girl.
At first, I didn’t have to. Most babies are the same – just little blobs of flesh designed to rob you of any sleep or sanity. When they start to grab things, playing pretty much consists of holding something colorful in front of their face until they flail around with it. Or doing voices and impressions that would otherwise have you committed to an institution. Then when they start moving, playing is just making sure they don’t die.
It’s when they get older and start developing their own interests that you can get a little lost. I tried hard not to force my stuff on her, either. Although I did show her my favorite movie once when she was still an infant. I thought I could develop her into a tiny little sci-fi fan, but she spit-up on my laptop and that was that. At age four though, she got her first “girl” toys; nail polish…and a Bitty Baby.

She’s a spring baby, so we planned her party on a March afternoon. Later that night I planned to enjoy my annual ritual of watching the basketball tournament with my brothers and friends. Play with my daughter during the day, and the night was reserved for beers, basketball, and smack talk. “Guy” stuff.
Watching my daughter play with her Bitty Baby was like watching her level up at being a kid. She’s always been creative, but her imagination ran wild with the doll. She immediately named her Katie. A little embarrassing, considering it took us twelve weeks and a series of ballots to settle on her name.
We spent the afternoon on adventures with Katie all over the house, from starting a nail salon to going on a couch-fort safari. It struck me that my daughter didn’t see Katie as just a play-friend, but a character in her world who needed to be cared for and nurtured. It seems obvious now, but it was extraordinary to see my four-year-old interpret and imitate my own parenting with her Bitty Baby. I thought I understood make-believe, but I wasn’t ready for what came next.
Shortly before I was supposed to go to the basketball party, my daughter asked to paint my nails. I caught a look of glee in my wife’s face, making me suspect it was her idea. I quickly came up with some excuse I don’t remember to get out of it. However, my daughter hit me with the look every dad knows. The one they cannot know about when they get older. The look that would’ve gotten me to do anything. I said yes, knowing the onslaught of ribbing I was going to take from my friends that night.

With my freshly-pastelled nails, I was about to leave for guy-time when my daughter pulled that puppy dog look a second time. She held up her prized possession, her new Bitty Baby, and said with the saddest voice: “Katie loves sports. Will you take her to the game?”
I instantly knew why “Katie” “loved sports.” It’s because of the Saturdays my daughter saw me on the couch, acting like a crazy person as college kids tried to put a ball in a basket. Knowing it was my daughter trying to connect two things she loved, I couldn’t say no.
And that’s how I ended up at the party with a baby doll and painted nails. Yes, there was an endless parade of jokes at my expense. Looking back, I could have left Katie in the car, but at the time it didn’t even occur to me. In some imperceptible way, her devotion to the doll got to me. My daughter asked me to bring her doll to the game, and so I did. But here’s the twist: the team we were rooting for was a gigantic underdog, expected to make a quick exit from the tournament. So the longer the game went and the closer the scoreboard was, the less focus anyone had on my new friend or pretty nails. Then the impossible happened. The type of impossible that makes March beautiful for sports fans: our team pulled off an enormous upset!
When the final horn sounded, our group erupted into cheers and wild hugs like we were kids. Watching us, you would’ve thought we each won the lottery. As I was leaving, one of my oldest friends grabbed me into a bear hug: “We have two days before the next game. And that doll better be with you when you come back.”
And that’s how the superstition started. My daughter and I would play during the day, and then I’d ask her if I could bring “Katie” to the game party. We transitioned seamlessly from a child’s imaginative play to a dad’s childish sports superstition. But my team kept winning, my nails kept getting pinker, and I ended up playing with Katie almost as much as my daughter.
In the end, being a #GirlDad worked out just fine.
Bitty Baby™ from American Girl helps dads and daughters discover a world of make-believe together while learning the importance of love and kindness.