Storytelling

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I Am The Childless Creepy Guy In The Park

May 22, 2013 at 10:00 pm , by 

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Because of my legitimate fear of developing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, I am trying to counteract the numbness in my left shoulder, wrist, and hand by working those muscles on a daily basis.

Therefore, last week I started a daily habit of stopping by the playground near my office to do pull-ups.

I imagine it’s quite a random sight at 1:15 every afternoon in Aspen Grove Park to see some random guy wheel in on his mountain bike, set down his book bag and helmet, do several pull-ups on the playground, then speed off into the distance.

Predictably, there are always a few moms with their young kids already there when I arrive.

My most awkward encounter so far happened about a week ago.

There was a grandmother with her daughter- a mom who was about my age, accompanied by her own daughter who was about your age.

In the non-creepiest way I knew how, I approached the 7 foot high monkey bars. Immediately, the three of them all looked up at me, seemingly concerned.

I felt the need to explain:

“Hi, I work in one of the offices nearby. I come here everyday now to do my pull-ups because I type all day on a computer, and this helps me.”

The grandmother responded:

“Well, thank you for explaining that…”. The tone and look on her face was completely serious. She meant what she was saying.

From that point, she began rationalizing out loud, trying to convince herself as well as her grown daughter, that I was there basically to “blow off steam” from the stress of working in an office.

That wasn’t the case at all. My job doesn’t stress me out at all. I love my job.

However, I felt it to be in my best interest to leave immediately, without trying to further justify my existence. So I did.

I’m too cheap to pay for a gym membership; not to mention, I’d rather be outside anyway, breathing fresh air and feeling the sunlight on my skin. So the combination of mountain biking and doing pull-ups on the playground is like a free gym membership to me.

Sure, it looks weird to onlookers, but the only rule I saw on the park sign was against people smoking there- not against adults showing up without a child.

For me, what this story reveals is that each parent has certain things they see as a red flag; some possible threat to their child’s safety and well-being. I know I’ve got mine. (And I’ve learned not to mention them on the Internet anymore!)

I’m just a harmless dad of a 2 and a half year-old son who is using the city park for a minute or two as part of his daily exercise routine. But that’s not how it looks to everybody. To some, I am the childless creepy guy in the park.

 

Love,

Daddy

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I Am Now My Son’s Favorite Barber

May 21, 2013 at 11:32 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

When I saw this picture I took of you this morning, I thought, “Here’s proof my son actually looks like me!”

The plan for Sunday afternoon was that Mommy would do the grocery shopping while I took you to get a haircut.

But once we checked in at the economy-priced place we usually go to, we were #13 on the queue, with a 45 minute wait; not to mention, you were crying because you knew why we were there.

So I made you a deal:

“Okay, Jack… listen. Would you rather Daddy give you a haircut when we get home instead of those people inside that store?”

You instantly felt relieved; I could see it:

“Yeah… Daddy, you give me haircut?”

Once we got home, you didn’t put up a fight at all. You stood on the back patio stairs as I buzzed your hair with a half-inch guard all over.

Effortless.

“You cut it all off, Daddy?”

I explained, “No son, you’ll still have hair, but this haircut will keep you cool in the warm weather.”

Mommy instantly fell in love with your new look. I thought she might simply be partial.

However, I learned that would not be the case.

All your teachers and friends at school said the same thing: You look really handsome with your new haircut.

That was my official confirmation.

As your dad, I have to take that as a double compliment.

One, you’re my son and someone is complimenting how sharp you look.

Second, it proves I have respectable skills with a set of hair clippers.

Not to mention, Mommy and I will now be saving about 13 bucks a month by not having to pay for your haircuts.

I was thinking: Maybe the more comfortable that you and I become with my barbering abilities, perhaps I could start learning how to fade your hair to where it’s a little longer on top.

But hey, if the buzz cut works for you and Mommy, and it saves us $13 a month, I don’t want to complicate things.

By default, I am now your favorite barber.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

 

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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.

 

 

 

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How I Was Wrong About Male Daycare Workers

May 15, 2013 at 9:11 pm , by 

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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.