Father-Son Fight Club: The 1st Rule Is…

May 3, 2014 at 8:04 pm , by

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

I promise it was your idea. I’m only going along with it… with acompletely clear conscience.

Since last weekend, you’ve started this thing where you come up to me, punch me in the chest as hard as you can, laugh, then say, “Let’s fight, Daddy.”

And what do I do? I “fight” back.

Well, the difference with my response to you is that I obviously don’t punch you as hard as I can.

I actually am “punching” you back as lightly as I can.

Here we are, a week into it, still hittin’ strong and I’m only seeing positives:

I like to see the confidence you’re gaining in yourself.

I like the way you and I are bonding over it.

I like how you get to test your own physical strength against mine, knowing that less than a second later you’ve got a soft “punch” coming right back at your chest or stomach.

The way I see it, it’s no different than male wolves of the same pack practicing their fighting moves on each other. The way I see it, I am giving you introductory “man lessons.”

Most importantly, you’ve yet to punch any of your friends at school. That’s because I had a little talk with you last weekend before you went back to school on Monday. I explained how the only person you can punch is me.

And you listened!

Like I mentioned, I can’t help but notice the bonding that has occurred since we started our “father-son fight club.” Here recently, you actually have been asking me to sit next to you on the couch. Then, you lay your arm across mine.

That used to be an action you saved for Mommy and never granted me.

So whatever inspired you to start punching me, I’m glad it happened.

Granted, for all I know, I may not be the best example of a parent.

Maybe my stories about us wouldn’t be the kind you’d expect to ever see on a parenting website or something.

But between you and me, I think we have a good thing going on!

It’s our little secret. After all, the first rule about Father-Son Fight Club is that we don’t talk about Father-Son Fight Club.

 

Love,

Daddy

Daddy, How Do You Grow Up?

May 3, 2014 at 3:11 pm , by

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

There are some questions, as your dad, I can just not be prepared for.

On the way home from school last week, you asked a very logical question:

“Daddy, how do you grow up?”

While you’re still fuzzy on my actual age (you think I’m 4 years old), you do understand that eventually, you’ll grow up to be as tall as I am.

So I answered your question the way any dad would in that situation:

“Well, you just have to keep going to sleep every night… and each morning when you wake up, you’ll be just a little bit bigger.”

What’s interesting about the timing of your question is that we just happened to be driving one of the smallest cars on the road:

I was doing a review of the 2014 Fiat 500 at the time.

Maybe that’s what made you think of it; you were feeling so big in such a small car.

The questions have continued since then.

A few days later as I was helping you put on your shoes before we left for school, you asked, “Daddy, will these shoes get bigger when I grow up?”

I wish.

I can see you’re definitely fascinated by the process of physically growing bigger. In hindsight, I really don’t know that I could have answered your original question any better than I did.

Without getting all scientific, I think it really is that simple.

You go to sleep, you wake up, you’re a little bit bigger the next day.

I’m assuming my answer was best suited for a 3 year-old little boy like yourself.

Since then, I’ve heard you proudly explain to Mommy that the more you go to sleep at night, the sooner you’ll grow up.

It may be a coincidence, but I feel like here recently, you’ve put up less of a fight when it’s time for a nap or bedtime.

Hmm… I wonder why.

 

Love,

Daddy

To See My Child Brighten Someone’s Day, It Makes Me Proud

May 1, 2014 at 11:05 pm , by

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

This morning you were so excited to take your pet dog, Chi-chi, to school. He (or is it she?) has an “on” switch which causes it to walk across the floor and bark/chirp. It’s pretty hilarious.

But since you and your friends are 3 and a half, it’s pretty much as awesome as me finding out yesterday why “A113″ shows up in nearly every Disney/Pixar movie.

You were so eager to show Chi-Chi to your friends, I was actually a bit surprised. I feared that you might freak out as a mob of your classmates would begin going crazy foryour toy.

I thought it would bother you. I thought you might quickly get possessive.

That’s not at all what happened. Instead, I saw the look on your face as 7 or 8 of your friends all circled around you in amazement of your toy.

Never was there a sign of concern as Chi-Chi (and ultimately, you) were the hit of the party.

I saw joy in your eyes as you witnessed your friends playing with and passing around the toy you brought to share with them.

You brightened their day. That made you happy.

And it made me happy too.

When we got home, I saw on Facebook that my friend Holly, from college, had messaged me:

Nick, i just had to let you know that of all the compliments I received on my pink hair picture, your son requesting a second viewing makes me feel the coolest. Hope you’re doing well!

A few days ago, Holly had posted this new picture of herself with some temporary pink hair dye. (Being half-Norwegian and half-Swedish, her hair is normally light blonde.)

You caught a glimpse of the picture on my laptop as I was scrolling through Facebook and were pretty fascinated by this seemingly magical girl with the pink hair. I let Holly know that:

“My son Jack likes your hair so much, he just asked to see your picture again!”
Of the 20-something comments and 70-something “likes” she received from that picture, your comment made her feel the coolest. Enough for her to take the time to let me know, several days later.
And if you can believe it, the fact that you made her day by asking to see her picture a 2nd time… well, it made myday.
Twice in the same couple of hours, I saw first-hand how you simply brightened other people’s days.
It makes me so proud that you are such a sweet boy. I don’t think I was that caring and giving when I was your age.
Yeah, you make me proud.
Love,
Daddy

Boys Grow Up To Become Men Who Move Away

May 1, 2014 at 6:14 am , by

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

When I was growing up, I never minded the small town I grew up in. It was all I knew.

Life was good, easy, and comfortable. My parents did everything right.

But around the time I starting driving, I became more curious about life outside of the shared corner of Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia.

The summer before my senior year, I travelled to Ecuador. Then after I graduated high school, I went to college in Florida and Virginia; both of which took way more than 8 hours to travel to and from the house I grew up in.

I spent two of the summers in college overseas in Bangkok, Thailand; teaching English. I briefly did the same in South Korea, as well.

For a guy who sure was comfortable being raised in a small town, it was my instinct to want to go explore the world outside of safety and comfort.

I think you will be the same way. I think you will end up being an explorer of the world; at least the world outside the town you are growing up in.

Aside from that, though- after Mommy and I have “raised you,” you will leave us and start your own life. You will have the desire to become who you were to intended to be, apart from us.

I am preparing myself now for the day you will move away and figure things out on your own, like I had to do.

The way I see it, when a father does a good job of raising his son, he is rewarded by seeing his son move on to start his own life, and eventually start his own family. It seems that’s one of the ultimate rewards of being a father… as much of a paradox as that may sound.

Mommy is the nurturer, I am the mentor, and you’re the kid. Together, I know that the three of us will always have a close love for each other; but I get it that you will, in essence, need to “start over” and do this thing yourself.

Right now, these are the years when the rewards of fatherhood include cuddling with you, wrestling you, having you ask me to sing you bedtime songs, taking you to the zoo and the monster truck show… so many things each day that mean the world to me.

The undeniable irony here is that for the next 15 years or so, I will ultimately be revolving my life around you so that you can become independent enough to live your life without me being right there. I guess that’s sort of an obvious element of being a dad, but I’m thinking about it more here lately.

I don’t take for granted you are growing up so fast. After all, one day, that might actually be a real mustache on your face!

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. The top picture is an entry we submitted for a “selfie photo contest” for Joe Hendricks Photography!

Who’s The Boss? (Minus Tony Danza)

April 23, 2014 at 6:23 pm , by 

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

When you woke me up Easter morning, on my 33rd birthday, one of my immediate thoughts was not, “Man, I can’t believe I’m this old!”

Instead, it was, “Man, I’m 33 years old and have a 3 and a half year-old kid who thinks I’m in charge!”

I thought about how three decades ago in 1984, there were two different sitcoms that premiered which contained premises and titles featuring the uncertainty of the character with the assumed authority:

Who’s The Boss? andCharles In Charge.

Granted, just a few seconds earlier I was in a deep sleep probably dreaming something weird, but I think my subsconcious was making a good point:

I evidently doubt my credibility as your dad.

While it’s no secret that Mommy is the officer in charge of our schedule and budget, there’s a lot I’m in charge of, as it pertains to you.

I have to remind myself of that.

It may not seem like a big deal, but I am responsible for getting you to and from school (in Nashville traffic!) each day.

While you’re in the back seat, having fun pretending to have a cracker for an eyeball, I’m actually having to proactively keep us alive and well… not to mention get you and I to school and work on time.

Each night after you keep calling Mommy back upstairs (for the 3rd time) after she’s already put you to bed, it’s me that comes up there to truly sing you the last song. Because you know that my last song really is the last song!

You have a reverence for me that is much different than how you perceive Mommy. (And I don’t even spank you.)

If nothing else, you know that at any given moment, I may make you wrestle me on the carpet and then I’ll tickle you when you lose.

Yeah, and I’m sort of in charge of you. Isn’t that scary?

Who’s the boss? Me, actually. Not Tony Danza with his wonderful tapdancing moves.

 

Love,

Daddy