Nostalgia

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Monster Trucks & Dinosaurs Are The New PB&J

April 30, 2013 at 12:40 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

Thirty years ago in 1983, when I was your age, my dad and I played an Atari game called Combat, which contained 27 games in one.

There was one battle on there where the 1st player was a plane that continually scrolled to the top right of the screen, while the 2nd player was a boat that continually scrolled to the bottom left.

By pressing the one orange button on the controller, you would try to shoot your opponent as they passed by every 5 seconds.

It was ridiculous, yet I really loved that stupid game.

The reason I thought of this random childhood memory is because of our shared love for monster trucks and dinosaurs.

I admit, the marvelous (and very marketable) combo of monster trucks and dinosaurs entered our family from a funny t-shirt you have, which features a page of a fake comic book.

When I first saw it, I thought, “How appropriate! That’s a perfect match, like peanut butter and jelly.”

As if it were an inevitable Biblical prophecy,I bought you a $4 purple monster truck last week, then a 99 cent T-Rex the next day.

I was naturally led to attach the dinosaur to the front passenger seat of my car, in attempt to annoy/make you laugh on the car ride to school.

To be fair, you not only had your purple monster truck to aid you in the psychological attack, but your Easter Bunny was there to serve as your ally as well.

I could tell you were sort of confused as to why I would buy you two toys for no apparent reason.

The best explanation I can give is this:

It’s a transportable version of horseplay. If I can’t be chasing you around the house, pretending to be a hungry and scary tiger, at least I can pretend that the plastic dinosaur has an appetite for monster trucks.

If nothing else, as much as I mention monster trucks and dinosaurs to you on a weekly basis, I figured we ought to at least have some official mascots for our relationship; given the number of times a mention the two on a weekly basis.

You are a monster truck. I am a dinosaur. 

Man, that sounds like the beginning of a beautiful haiku…

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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My Son’s Alter Ego Is A Schlubby Dinosaur

April 29, 2013 at 8:24 pm , by 

2 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

This past weekend while your cousin Calla visited us, your best friend from school, Sophie, also met us at your favorite indoor playground called Shipwrecked.

It was interesting to see which costumes the three of you chose to wear during the two and half hour play date.

You did your best to find the most masculine, mess-making one they had. Turns out, Superman was already taken; though personally, I say Batman is superior to the alien in red underwear any day.

So you chose…

(Yes, that is a reference to House Hunters on HGTV.)

…Baby Bop from my least favorite (meaning I despise it!) kids TV show, Barney & Friends.

(Make sure you check out all the pictures of the event by clicking on this link to The Dadabase’s Facebook page.Go to the folder called Shipwrecked With Cousin Calla and Gal Pal Sophie; showing many more hilarious snapshots of the ordeal.)

Just imagine, you ran around an indoor playground for 2 and a half hours wearing that mascot of a costume.

Normally, a person’s alter ego would be a stronger, faster, more intelligent version… with super powers.

At least you were able to accidentally swing your massive tail at other kids as you ran pass them.

However, I think your cousin Calla’s alter ego choice was even more bizarre: Batman.

Not only is Calla a girl, but she’s a girly girl; always wearing pink or purple and carrying around a baby doll and a kitten.

So as to how exactly she felt Batman, who I’ve already alluded to is my favorite comic book (and movie) superhero, is puzzling to me.

She walked around like Frankenstein, arms out, possibly attempting to fly.

We’ll have to ask her about that one day.

At least Sophie’s alter ego choice made perfect sense: She was a pink poodle.

Sophie already sort of reminds me of a cute little playful puppy anyway; always so happy to see you at school. Plus, she has the curly hair thing going on too, so the costume was a good match all around.

I especially was entertained when you and Sophie (top picture) decided to read to each other, simultaneously, while dressed as Baby Bop and a pink poodle.

What was particularly interesting was the fact you were reading a book that featured a young child dressed up in a dinosaur costume.

I would have to say that this experiment was a success. All three of you were able to display your alter ego… for better or for worse; or weird.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

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Look For The Helpers, Like White Blood Cells Attacking A Virus

April 15, 2013 at 9:42 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Today is a difficult day for Americans.

During the Boston Marathon, two bombs exploded in the midst of the crowd at the finish line. Three people were killed, several people lost limbs, and more than 100 were injured is what is assumed to be an act of terror.

It’s easy to ask questions like why or how could something like this happen.

As I’ve watched my Facebook friends react to this tragedy, there are two specific quotes I am watching go viral. The first is from Mr. Rogers:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

The second is from one of my favorite stand-up comedians, Patton Oswalt, which he posted as his Facebook status:

“If it’s one person or a HUNDRED people, that number is not even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent of the population on this planet. You watch the videos of the carnage and there are people running TOWARDS the destruction to help out… This is a giant planet and we’re lucky to live on it but there are prices and penalties incurred for the daily miracle of existence. One of them is, every once in awhile, the wiring of a tiny sliver of the species gets snarled and they’re pointed towards darkness.

But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evil doers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation…

So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, ‘The good outnumber you, and we always will.’”

While my heart is heavy as I think about and pray for all those affected by this tragedy, I strangely find comfort in the words and wisdom of both a children’s television host and a stand-up comedian:

Look for the helpers… like white blood cells attacking a virus.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 Photo: Getty Images.

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To Love And To Lead Is To Serve: No Thank You’s Required

April 13, 2013 at 9:18 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

It was three years ago today (April 13, 2010) that I announced Mommy and I were having a baby when I wrote my very first daddy blog post, called “She’s Having A Baby.”

For the past three years, I have written to you at least once a week, but usually at least 6 days a week.

Not only have you changed a lot, so have I; both of us for the better.

As I have watched you transform from a “baked potato” of a baby into a monster truck loving little boy, I think about how specifically I have been forced to change and mature as a person.

Here’s the answer: I have learned to love and lead better as a dad; and therefore, I have learned toserve better.

Specifically, I have learned to stop expecting to be thanked or acknowledged for the sacrifices it takes to be an involved parent.

Because, honestly, I’m not special in those regards. I simply experience what most parents in America experience.

Being a parent is a thankless job. So what. That’s not news.

That used to matter to me- being thanked. Perhaps the greatest stride I took in my maturity growth as a parent was the day I stopped expecting confirmation that I’m a good parent.

To remain focused on that is to give too much power to other people and to set myself up for disappointment when I don’t get what I was hoping for in my own mind.

I learned to shake those expectations. I get it now:

Doing the dishes. Changing diapers. Telling you I love you everyday.  Getting up in the middle of the night when you randomly wake up and singing “Yellow Submarine” to you to help you get back to sleep.

And so it goes for every other menial task as I do as a parent and spouse.

It probably comes down to this anyway: The most important things I do in life, and that I am best at doing, are the things for which I’m not regularly thanked.

Serving is loving and leading. I get that now… no thank you’s required.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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Somethin’ ‘Bout A Truck… And A 2 Year-Old Boy

April 3, 2013 at 1:00 pm , by 

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

These days, as I go through the dozens of pictures I take of you in a week’s time, it’s getting pretty difficult to find ones of you without your black monster truck.

It must have been fate that you received a duplicate Christmas gift, prompting Mommy and me to take you to the toy store and let you exchange it for whatever your heart desired.

At the very sophisticated Brilliant Sky toy store, which I jokingly refer to as a toy store for “gifted” kids, you appropriately chose… a black monster truck.

Tonight after dinner we let you indulge a little bit in some of your hard-earned Easter candy, which included some of Annie’s Bunny Fruit Snacks.

After enjoying some for yourself, you placed 3 of them in the cab of your monster truck and let them drive around 5 others in the bed of the truck.

Your relationship with your monster truck is starting to seem a little bromantic, even.

If you enjoy a snack or a treat, so does your monster truck. Not only do you eat with it, you sleep with it.

All of your favorite shirts have a monster truck on them.

As we drive together to school and work every morning, you fantasize about every “monster truck” (F-150′s with big tires) you see.

“That’s a monster truck! I drive it!”

Needless to say, we see a lot of “monster trucks” as we drive a total of an hour a day through the very manly city of Nashville, Tennessee.

Yesterday you saw a pick-up on truck on the side of the road. Your response:

“Oh no! His wheel fall off? He fix it?”

Because of the fact that part of your morning routine is to watch clips of monster trucks on YouTube, and sometimes when they flip over, one of their wheels flies off, you therefore assume that any time that any truck is pulled off to the side of the road, that guarantees that one of the truck’s wheels fell off.

Every morning as I unbuckle you from your car seat, you reluctantly let go of your monster truck and set it down on the empty seat next to you. “I play with my truck when you get back?”

Because of that, I try to make a habit of when I pick you up in the afternoon from daycare, to have the truck in my hand as soon as you see me.

There’s just somethin’ ’bout a truck and a 2 year-old boy.

 

Love,

Daddy