Way back when, I used to care a lot about how I looked and what people thought of my appearance. Then, somewhere along the way, this concern mysteriously evaporated. I never dressed well, but now I don’t dress well on purpose. I spent years abusing my face with a razor every morning, and now I let my whiskers express themselves as nature intended. I never used to wear sunglasses, because I was an eyeglass wearer and I could never afford the kind of glasses that had that special sunglass clip-on feature. But today, my friends, I’ve come full circle. I am now a devoted sunglasses wearer.

A few years back I discovered the answer. I remember the day well. I was browsing Wal Mart on a lazy afternoon, wondering what sort of inexpensive plastic items I might buy in bulk that day. I wandered down the aisle, and there they were, luring me like Sirens, the biggest, most comprehensive sunglasses I had ever seen.

As I saw it, the shades offered five compelling features:

1) Not one ray of light would ever reach my eyes. Not ever.
2) Because of their extraordinary roominess, I could wear them over my actual glasses.
3) They would absolutely drive the ladies wild because of their outrageous sexiness.
4) They might qualify me for the AARP discount.
5) At $19 per pair, I could afford to buy two.

Because I am me, careless and clumsy, I frequently destroy or misplace my magnificent sunglasses. Luckily, every Wal Mart in the country continues to sell them (because of their rampant popularity, I assume). Over the weekend, I lost my last pair, so yesterday Alden, Kato, and I headed to Middletown, Delaware, to find me some replacements. These shades come in several sizes, and I’m always torn between large and extra-large. I tried on the large and examined myself in the mirror.

Alden, who had not been invited to weigh in, said, “Sunglasses too big, Papa.” I had no idea that she had entered the realm of aesthetic opinion, but I took her counsel to heart and tried on a pair of extra-large.

I asked Alden for her take. “That’s is just right, Papa,” she said.

Though I might question her understanding of adjectives, there is clearly no disputing her taste. In the end, I decided to buy both pairs, so that I would have options on any given day when it came to pimping my style according to my mood and inclination.

Later, in the check-out line, I was wearing the large pair in anticipation of a return to the glaring Middletown sunshine. Alden had one final contribution. “Those are cute, Papa,” she told me.

I can’t remember the last time anyone called me cute. Probably not since I was approximately Alden’s age and size. I glowed with good feeling. I hugged my tiny daughter. This is why we have children. This is why someone invented really, really big sunglasses.