3 years, 9 months.
Last Thursday as I was picking you up from KinderCare and walking you to our car, your friend Lucy saw us walking by and proclaimed to her own Daddy, “That’s Jack’s Daddy. He’s a nice Daddy!”
I had really never considered my reputation among the 3 year-olds of your school.
Maybe I really am a “nice Daddy.”
Hey, I’ll take a compliment anytime I can; even from a 3 year-old.
When I walk in each day to pick you up from school, your friends always begin talking to me; like they’re supposed to or something. It’s been that way for months, actually…
Your friend Avery always tells me, “My Mommy picks me up today.”
Jaedyn always describes what she’s drawing and shows it to me.
Ethan immediately hugs my leg, like I’m his actually Daddy.
And when I see you, you always run to me and I lift you up to the air like you’re a rocket.
So looking back, I guess you and I do make a scene each day when I pick you up.
Ultimately, I guess that makes me a “nice Daddy.”
(Coincidently, I happened to meet Lucy’s Mommy, Autumn, this week for the first time; I took some pictures of you and Lucy playing together.)
I can honestly say I’ve never considered my reputation as a “nice Daddy” among your peers. I guess I’ve just always subconsciously assumed that their dads act the same way when they pick them up each day.
And that’s still what I assume. I assume all your friends’ fathers treat them the same way as I treat you.
How could they not?
Being a good father (and husband) are the roles in life I take the most seriously.
My understanding is that fatherhood is the one of the main forms of identity and self-realization for the modern American man.
Doesn’t every man think the same way as I do? The dads I know all do, at least.
My guy friends are all “nice Daddies.”
In fact, I bet a lot of them are actually nicer than I am.