My dad never complained about having girls. He didn’t say much about the squealing, the glitter pink, the preteen angst, the posters of Joey McIntyre and the four hour dance recitals that always landed on Father’s Day. But we were always buying new hair bands. Every week, a new packet. And then one day I saw him with the vacuum hose, going around the house and sucking up hair elastics off the floor, couch, sinks, counters, beds….laughing hysterically to himself about it and enjoying sweet revenge