Author: Family Friendly Daddy Blog

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My 2 Year-Old’s Rendition of “I Drive Your Truck” By Lee Brice

March 23, 2013 at 9:06 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

My favorite song on Country music radio right now is one about a man whose brother was killed in the war and who drives around his brother’s pick-up truck as a form of therapy.

You’ve heard Mommy and I sing “I Drive Your Truck” by Lee Brice enough times that you started singing it too.

However, I feel that your version of the song misses the sentimental and emotional aspect that songwriters Jessi Alexander, Connie Harrington, and Jimmy Yeary intended.

Your version is more of a lighthearted comedy:

“I drive you truck… it was accident!”

Whether you unintentionally rewrote the lyrics on the spot or whether you honestly thought those were the words, I can’t not laugh when you sing it.

The funniest part about it is how you assume you did something wrong, by mistake.

I picture you beboppin’ around a parking lot, stepping in to someone else’s truck, and driving to the other side of town before realizing… you have the wrong truck! And I picture all of this happening with you being your current age and height.

As your vocabulary is expanding, you are learning new words to fill in the blanks when you don’t know what the right words are. This story is a great example of that.

One phase you’ve recently picked up is, “Are you kidding me?”

You haven’t quite got the expression of it down, though. When you say it, it’s more monotone, but then you laugh at yourself for saying something you know will make Mommy and me laugh, even if you don’t know why we think it’s funny.

I see how you are figuring out in your head how to be a comedian. Strangely, one of your first cases involves a very good, but not funny, Country song.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on Health, parenting

Lost In Translation: “Mommy, Are My Beaver Gone?”

March 23, 2013 at 11:28 am , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Mommy stayed home with you on Tuesday, the day after you had your 2nd febrile seizure. Fortunately, you had a quick recovery and were back to school by Wednesday.

Even still, Mommy kept a close watch on your temperature that day; knowing that if it spiked again, you could have yet another febrile seizure.

As she cared for you in our bed, you madethis face (featured right) and asked her:

“Mommy, are my beaver gone?”

This hasn’t stopped being funny to me yet.

Evidently, you think that the word beaverand fever are the same thing. At this point, I don’t think you quite comprehend the fact that “having a fever” means your body’s temperature is too hot.

I imagine a mischievous little beaver hanging on your back, running across your legs and arms; just pestering you and keeping you from being able to go to school.

It makes me think of how last Friday I spent my lunch break with you at the park and you saw a squirrel doing his typical, paranoid, jumpy circus act on a tree. You asked, “Daddy, he gonna get me?”

So I wonder if in general you have a fear about small critters “getting” you.

As your Daddy, I will protect you against it all: Monsters underneath the bed, squirrels in the trees, beavers… not to mention- gophers, duckbill platypuses… if it’s an irrational fear, I’m on it for ya!

If it’s a rational fear, like having a 105 degree temperature and having to rush you to the ER, well, I’m good for that too.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Health, parenting

Proof I’ve Deprived My Kid Of Fast Food (And Meat In General)

March 20, 2013 at 10:26 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Fate would have it that your parents would become vegetarians right around the time you would be old enough to start eating meat; back in December 2011.

Now that I’ve fully converted to veganism, your chances of trying chicken nuggets anytime in the near future look pretty bleak.

But here’s the thing: You really have no concept of eating animals. A vegetarian diet is all you know.

Yesterday we received some coupons in the mail for a fast food restaurant. You saw a picture of a combo meal, consisting of a burger, fries, and a soda. Your reaction:

“What this called, Mommy?”

This past weekend while you were hanging out at an indoor playground, you discovered the pretend kitchen. After toasting the plastic peas in the pink toaster, you found a plastic chicken leg.

“What this called, “Daddy?”

I quickly responded without thinking about how weird my answer would be.

You were confused, but you tried not to question it, as you are still fairly new to the human experience:

“That’s fried chicken leg? Chicken leg.” You walked away with the plastic chicken leg in your hand, trying to figure out why a human being is supposed to play with a random body part of an animal.

I am trying to put myself in your shoes, simply thinking that all those animals on Old McDonald’s farm are just his pets and nothing more.

It’s going to be weird for me the day you’re old enough to understand that certain animals are a protein source for the 97% of Americans who are not vegetarians or vegans.

I wonder: At what point in your life will you finally eat meat; with the knowledge of what it actually is. If ever.

Aside from your parents’ influence, are you still a vegetarian? I’m sure the truth will come out in your teenage years.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My 2 Year-Old Son Has Officially Discovered His… Tummy?

March 19, 2013 at 9:40 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

*Warning: Contains oversharenting.

Dear Jack,

My style of bathing you, compared to Mommy’s, is much more observational than it is hands-on. I basically just let you play for 15 minutes, then I hurry up and scrub you down at the very end.

I love watching “The Jack Show.” So entertaining.

Anything and everything becomes a toy. Like a cup. Or a spoon.

Last week you grabbed a cup, and then immediately afterwards, a spoon, to capture your… well, I’ll just quote you:

“It’s my tummy!”

You were so proud of yourself for “catching” what you thought was simply an extension of your stomach.

I guess, technically, or actually, it is.

Mommy and I have talked about it several times, but we still haven’t been able to figure out what words to teach you for that, or those.

Nothing seems right. Saying the actual word feels too… official. Saying a nickname feels too… ridiculous. It’s too soon, I think.

We are in that interesting limbo state where it doesn’t come up enough in daily conversation for you to really need to know what to call it, or them.. Really, that bath last week was the first and only time I’ve ever heard you recognize what’s underneath your diaper.

Granted, you watch me “go potty” nearly everyday; running over to catch a front-row seat for the action. So maybe you just assume that’s what people’s tummies look like? Or at least boys’ tummies.

Until further notice, it’s your tummy.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

My Son Pushed A Baby Stroller… Like A Big Brother

March 18, 2013 at 10:42 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

I love these pictures of you. They crack me up, but at the same time, they’re very sweet.

On Saturday at Shipwrecked indoor playground, after you finally got to ride in the Buzz Lightyear car, then played in the ball pit, then at the train table, then read at the book nook, and then the building blocks… there was still one more activity you felt obligated to mark off your checklist:

Take a baby doll for a spin in the stroller.

These pictures of the event are hilarious to me for a few different reasons.

For one, you couldn’t look any more like a macho, GI Joe kind of boy; wearing your green football hoodie and camo pants. You always keep a straight posture, showing your high confidence level.

Second, you meant business! You were so serious about strapping in your baby correctly. I might even say you were too serious.

Lastly, I guess, is simply a combination of those two things:

You were a macho-looking GI Joe toddler boy who was serious about taking care of a baby doll in a pink and purple stroller.

I enjoyed watching you transform such a traditionally girly activity and turn it into a boy’s sport. Needless to say, you ended up taking your baby on an off-road excursion on a balance beam that had a ramp.

(That’s you- always relating everything back to monster trucks!)

Perhaps your baby stroller adventure had something to do with you being wired to be a big brother.

Wait… no… don’t get the wrong idea!

I’m not saying that… it’s not even April Fool’s Day yet.

You are an only child until further notice- and this definitely isn’t that notice. I am aware of no notice whatsoever.

All I’m simply saying is, I am able to see that if in the next couple of years, not months (!), you happen to become a big brother, you will be a natural.

You will push that baby stroller like a boss. Or a big brother.

 

Love,

Daddy