Overheard in Brooklyn

There were a few things I wanted to say in honor of Father's Day 2007, but I'll choose just this, in honor of those fathers who can't be with their kids this weekend.
Sometime around late May 2007, I'm waiting for a bus. At the stop with me is a 30-ish looking Latin man and a little girl. The girl is crying.
"I want to see you next weekend."
"You can't, sweetie. I'll be in the Dominican Republic."
"I want a daddy weekend."
"I'm going to the D/R. You don't want to come with me to the D/R, do you?"
She stops crying, looks him straight in the eye, and says "Yes". A full "yes", not "yeah", or "OK". Y-E-S.
There is a long pause. This is clearly not the answer he expected. But she's standing there in front of her dad, fully prepared, at least at that moment, to go with him to some strange place.
"Well, you can't," he says finally.
"WHY??" she says, her lower lip sticking out.
"Well, uh..."
Another long pause.
"Well, because, uh..."
She folds her arms in front of her in a strangely mature posture. She's got a shit detector like Hemingway, this one.
"Well, the mosquitoes are gonna bite," he says.
She considers this for a moment, arms folded. Then she starts crying again.