Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My Son, The Zoo Animal Heckler

May 19, 2013 at 10:22 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Twenty years ago in 1993, as a 12 year-old boy, I got to see Jurassic Park in the movie theater with my dad. It was the most life-like experience I’ve ever had in regards to believing I was actually seeing real dinosaurs.

As for you, your version of that happened last weekend when Mommy and I took you to the Nashville Zoo. You finally got to meet a real “dinosaur,” as promised. (An iguana, to be exact.)

Though you enjoyed finally getting to see one, as promised and hyped up, you told me your favorite animal was actually, of all exotic things, the turtle.

Nice.

(Maybe it’s because our last name is Shell and turtles have a shell?)

You brought a red lowrider truck with you as your companion.

Somehow, from the beginning of our zoo visit, you assumed that in order for the thing to be legitimate or official, you were obligated for each zoo animal to see your truck.

It was like getting your passport stamped. You had to have each new animal hear your offer to play with them.

Impressively, we ended up seeing every animal in the entire zoo in an hour and 25 minutes. Your concept of going to the zoo is like mine of going shopping: Get in, get it, get out!

But of course, along the way, you did have time to unintentionally (?) heckle the zoo animals:

“Hey Tiger! I ride you?”

“Hey Meerkat! Wanna play with my red truck?”

Fortunately, you never seemed too bummed out when the animals stared in the other direction while you sincerely tried to befriend them.

Oh well, we ended up buying a family season pass to the zoo, so this wasn’t your only chance to befriend the (hopefully) enchanted creatures of the forest.

Most importantly, you still believe that dinosaurs are alive and well.

I care less about you losing faith in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.

Or even Mickey Mouse.

But if you still believe that dinosaurs exist, I believe I can assist in keeping your childhood wonder alive even longer.

Randomly enough, the zoo helps with that.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. To see more pictures of your recent visit to the zoo, go to The Dadabase Facebook page and click on the picture folder, Zoo and Baseball 2013.

 

 

 

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Daddy’s Honest Perspective Of Himself During Labor

May 19, 2013 at 7:10 pm , by 

2 years, 6 month.

Dear Jack,

Last night Mommy and I watched a total chick flick, What To Expect When You’re Expecting.

As far as the main takeaway for me, as a dad, the movie served as a visual reminder of what it’s like for the dad as the mom is giving birth.

In particular, I’m referring to the ridiculous and easily mockable theatrics that an empathetic and supportive father engages himself during labor:

“Hee-hee-hoo! Hee-hee-hoo! You’re doing great! I’m so proud of you! Hee-hee-hoo!”

Those words of encouragement are of course accompanied by the dad making constant, unflattering, John-Mayer-singing faces.

At least no one other than Mommy or the doctors saw my 12 hour goofball performance while Mommy was giving birth to you.

I know this has to sound petty, but when I think of Mommy and I having another baby (not necessarily any time soon, by the way) the first thing that enters my mind is, “Ah man, I have to be that dramatic character again.”

That’s one reason I wouldn’t mind Mommy getting the epidural right away if we have another baby.

Unlike the extremely pro-Business Of Being Born dad I was back in 2010, I’ve sort of went the other way on that one. I just want to be able to fast-forward through the whole labor process, as awkward and exhausting as it was for me, and I assume, Mommy.

While there’s this traditional concept of “there’s nothing like holding your own child for this first time,” it took months for me to feel that way. I’ve said multiple times that being a dad actually wasn’t something awesome for me until you were 15 months, because that’s the age you starting acknowledging my presence.

That was the age where I felt psychologically needed by you, not just physically.

That was the age where I stopped subconsciously thinking, “I have to do this,” and started thinking, “I want to do this.”

What I’m not sure of is whether it sounds selfish of me to say that out loud. Maybe I’m the only dad who feels this way, so I can’t speak for anyone other than myself.

If nothing else, the simple thought is this:

I feel awkward enough in life on a daily basis. I have a very unsuccessful high five record with other guys. I never know if there’s going to be a snap or a half-hug involved.

So the thought of going through the labor process again, not to mention, the first 15 months, again… well, I can handle it, but it is a little intimidating.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

You Are Now Two And A Half, Entering The Flyover Years

May 16, 2013 at 10:00 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

I no longer have a 2 year-old son. As of today, I can start referring to you as my “2 and a half year-old.”

You are just as close to your (assumed) monster truck & dinosaur themed 3 year-old birthday party as you are to your Thomas the Train themed 2 year-old birthday party.

I look at you now and see how you’re clearly looking more like both Mommy and me.

Sure, the (now darkening) blonde hair and blue eyes are still a surprise, but gone are the days when I would write about how you don’t really look like either of your parents.

Something I was thinking about this week is how in classic sitcoms, by around the 5th season, the family would typically have another child, to better engage the audience with fresh new story lines.

From there, the next season would feature the zaniness of life with a new infant and baby. Then magically, the following season, that toddler who could barely talk instantly became a wise-crackin’, catch-phrase coinin’ 5 year-old.

In other words, producers of classic sitcoms evidently had reason to believe that the ages between about 2 and 5 were not interesting enough to entertain.

Okay… here we are. Let’s find out. As a 2 and a half year-old, falling in the category of what I call “the flyover years,” will  life still be interesting? Will you still be just as funny and entertaining to Mommy and me as you’ve been for the past 2 and a half years?

I’m thinking yes.

I’m eager to prove writers of classic sitcoms wrong, as if that’s even a thing that matters.

If you were a character in a family sitcom in 1988, you would be replaced today by a different, older actor.

Well, I’m keeping you. I predict life won’t skip a beat, even if you’re entering the flyover years.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

How I Was Wrong About Male Daycare Workers

May 15, 2013 at 9:11 pm , by 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

The Thought Of A Male Daycare Worker Weirds Me Out

May 14, 2013 at 9:32 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Sometimes you call me “Miss Daddy.” Slightly less funny is the fact you call Mommy “Miss Mommy.”

Given that most of your daytime hours are spent at school, it’s easy to understand that how natural it could be for you to want to call me “Miss Daddy.”

(That’s somehow a pretty fitting term for you to use, considering Mommy and I just bought you a pink sports coupe with a silver skull on the front, namedBone Crusher.)

It’s not like there are male teachers at your school, to familiarize you with the term “mister.”

Actually, I’ve never thought about it before, but my honest feelings about there being a male teacher at a daycare… that would be pretty weird and I wouldn’t feel comfortable with it.

But hey, that’s all speculation anyway. I suppose it’s simply me being gender biased in that I only feel comfortable with the thought of  female teachers at your school.

Now that I’m thinking about it, though, I would imagine that if your daycare suddenly hired a male teacher, there would instantly be a good number of parents pulling their kids out and moving them to another daycare.

I think it’s one of those nearly irrelevant conversations that could cause quite a stir on Facebook, but in reality, I would bet most moms and dads would agree that they wouldn’t feel comfortable with a male worker at their kids’ daycare.

A lot of people would like to believe that gender equality in the work force is always an attainable thing, but the free market tends to decide otherwise. I predict that male daycare workers are bad, or at least a gamble, for most daycare businesses.

I’m sorry, but I’ve been conditioned to distrust men I don’t know around little kids; especially my own. If I wasn’t weirded out by the thought of a male daycare worker, then I would be weird.

 

Love,

Daddy

P.S. I published a follow-up to this 24 hours later called How I Was Wrong About Male Daycare Workers, which discredits much of what I said here.