fatherhood

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Dear Jack: You Received the Certificate of Excellence in Mathematics Award for Your Kindergarten Class

6 and a half years.

Dear Jack,

For weeks, Mommy and I had been curious to know the details, as to why your teacher had texted Mommy and me that you would be presented with a special award in front of your school.

I tried to imagine which unique award you might have earned from your Kindergarten teacher. Naturally, I assumed it was either for your creative artwork, your effortless reading skills, or your ability to positively communicate and get along with your classmates.

You were the first student in your class to receive the Student of Month award from your teacher, back in September, so I figured it might have something to do with good behavior.

But instead, last Thursday, Mommy and I pleased to see you walk up in front of your entire elementary school and receive the Certificate of Excellence in Mathematics from your principal. What this means is that out of your entire Kindergarten class, you are the most skilled at Math.

Obviously, I’m very proud. I am so proud.

Yet honestly, I can’t be too surprised. I’ve been saying for months now, how you are able to count, add, and subtract numbers that I wasn’t able to until 2nd or 3rd grade.

I just figured that the entire Kindergarten curriculum had advanced a few grades, since 30 years ago when I was in Kindergarten myself.

And while I’m sure that’s the case, I now must fully accept that you are exceptionally advanced when it comes to your math skills. Your teacher recognized this to the point that you specifically were the one she chose.

The irony here is that the very reason I ended up getting my college degree in English is because I was so bad at math.

I don’t know I ended with a junior math whiz for a son, but I’m glad I did!

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Holly: You Hunted and Gathered Some “Baby Biscuits” for Breakfast Saturday Morning

1 year.

Dear Holly,

These are the days of you scouting underneath the kitchen table for any Cheerios you may have dropped earlier. You’re very good at finding them, by the way. And every time you discover a forsaken Cheerio, you proudly extend your little hand and pick it up like a crane machine lifting a toy out of the machine at Mellow Mushroom.

It is very obvious that at your school, you are learning to eat with your hands. I’ve noticed here recently that when I try to feed you veggie and fruit puree with the spoon, you’re starting to resist my help.

As if to sternly yet politely tell me, “Thank you, Daddy, for trying to help me eat dinner. But as you can see, I am actually able to feed myself…”

Often this leads to you cupping your hands to scoop the food out of the bowl. Yeah, it makes a mess, but I’m happy to see you attempt to be a girl her who can feed herself.

But you don’t simply snoop around for Cheerios to feed yourself, as I learned this past Saturday.

As Mommy was shopping for groceries at Kroger, you and I were upstairs in the bonus room with Jack, who was watching a dinosaur documentary on Netflix called Dinotasia.

For a while, you were content to just walk between the red footstool and the couch, as you braced yourself when necessary. You were so quiet, as to respect the fact your brother was in the zone as he learned more about dinosaurs.

Then I heard the rattling of a plastic wrapper for the non-GMO fig bars your brother eats: Nature’s Bakery Fig Bars. I didn’t think much of it. I just figured you liked manipulating the sound that an empty wrapper could make.

But then the rattling ceased, and I saw your little fist clenching one of the bars, and I saw how it was soggy on one end…

You had taken it upon yourself to find your own breakfast! I continued to watch you, and sure enough, you were able to successfully download the food you had found, just lying there.

Since you did such a good job finding and eating your own “baby biscuit”, I ran downstairs and got you a new pack of them.

Without surprise, you were able to chew and slobber your way through those baby biscuits as well, with just those two teeth on bottom and three coming in through the top.

Holly is a hunter-gatherer!

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Your Unashamed Obsession with the Dinosaur Documentary, Dinotasia

  1. 6 and a half years.

Dear Jack,

Saturday morning as Mommy bought the groceries at Kroger, I stayed home with you and your sister, letting you pick something to watch on Netflix until Mommy got back.

We scrolled through the “Because You Watched Jurassic Park” suggestions and came across a seemingly appropriate selection: Dinotasia. As opposed to being a movie like you’re used to watching, it’s more of a documentary that shows what life was like for dinosaurs, featuring CGI cartoons, as opposed to interviews with paleontologists.

So I explained that to you before I clicked play, “This is a dinosaur documentary.”

As I assume all Kindergarten boys are, you are thoroughly obsessed with dinosaurs with the same degree of passion as you are with Pokemon characters.

Every night before bed, I read to you from your giant Dinosaurs book, as you learn the names and unique features of each dinosaur.

So by watching Dinotasia, you were able to correctly shout out, “Hey Daddy, that’s a Pachycephalosaurus!”

I know I’ve said this a lot before, but you really are a smart kid.

We were able to finish the documentary before Mommy got back with the groceries. And of course, you bombarded her when she came through the door, as you told her all about the dinosaur documentary we had just watched.

Then the next morning on Sunday, you woke up early to watch Dinotasia, a 2nd time; this time with Mommy.

Later that day, as we were leaving from church, Mommy asked you what you did in your group class, which includes some kids that are a bit older than you.

“I told them about the dinosaur documentary, Dinotasia. There was this older girl who thought I was only 3 years old and she didn’t think a 3 year-old could watch a documentary, but I told her I am in Kindergarten.”

We typically talk about what we value. You obviously value Dinotasia. I like having a son who proudly watches dinosaur documentaries.

Love,

Daddy

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This is 36: The Face of a Dad Whose Family was All Asleep by 9 O’Clock Last Night

Bragging rights! Over here, everybody look at me…

Last night, my whole family was in bed and asleep by 9 o’clock. Seriously, are you not getting jealous reading this right now?

The dishes were done by 8:23 PM, by which time our son had fallen asleep. By that point, our daughter had been asleep for nearly an hour.

Forget Netflix. 

The parents just went straight to bed and instantly blacked out.

Glory!

No cries in the middle of the night from the baby. Since turning a year-old, our daughter has been doing a great job sleeping through the night without even waking up for a “shifting gears” cry around 10:50 PM; which is the time I am more likely to finally get to bed.

Perhaps her diet of more solid foods, and no more formula, is helping with that.

I say it’s a status symbol, as a parent at age 36, with a Kindergartner son and a 1 year-old daughter, to be able to fall asleep at 9 o’clock.

Contrast that to a year ago, when our daughter was too young for me to start applying my cruel and evil (yet extremely effective!) Cry It Out method.

Being able to sleep for over 8 hours, on a week night, is such a prize.

Because it’s not like my wife and I catch a break on the weekends. There’s no such thing as “sleeping in” for us. And once we’re up, we’re working all day long…

Between running errands, getting housework done, feeding the kids, entertaining the kids, and getting them to sleep for naps; plus feeding ourselves and cleaning the dishes… I would argue that we work at least equally as hard all day, as we do for our full-time jobs during the work week.

So yeah, it’s a pretty big deal for the whole family to be asleep by 9 o’clock on a Tuesday night.

This is 36.

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Dear Jack: Your Specific Decision to Draw Us Both the Same Size, What It Symbolizes

6 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

You brought home a drawing last week from school that shows two boys who are the same size; one with brown hair and the other with darker hair.

After I saw the drawing, you explained, “Daddy, that’s you and me in the picture.”

Obviously, that make my heart smile.

The weekend before, you and I had went exploring together, making the most of the couple hours of it wasn’t raining on that Sunday afternoon. So I imagine how our recent quality time together might have had some influence on you choosing to draw a picture of the two of us.

Then I noticed something peculiar about the drawing: You drew us both the same size.

You’re a very good artist. You know detail. You knew that to make the drawing true to scale, that I should have been bigger than you.

This is something you have proven in every other single drawing you have ever done: Mommy and I are typically drawn as about the same size as each other, and you are always draw yourself much smaller than us.

But instead, you made an artistic decision to deliberately draw you and me the same size.

I believe that is your subtle way of revealing how you process our relationship…

Sure, I’m the parent. I provide for your physical, psychological, and spiritual needs. I ultimately guide you and discipline you on a daily basis.

Yet still, you see us me as a friend, too. You know that I’m 29 and a half years older than you.

But when we’re hanging out and having fun together, I seem more to you like a 6 and a half year-old friend.

It wasn’t a careless mistake that you drew us the same size. That’s what I believe, at least.

Love,

Daddy