Storytelling

3 Comments Posted on parenting, Storytelling

Breaking Scientific News: 2-Year-Old Zoologist Discovers Missing Link

December 18, 2012 at 12:08 am , by 

2 years, 1 month.

Dear Jack,

I had always imagined your first favorite movie being a Disney classic. However, Disney classics have been late to arrive on the scene of Netflix live streaming, soCurious George 2: Follow That Monkey! it is.

How could it not be your favorite? Curious George, The Man in the Yellow Hat, and a circus elephant named Kayla accidentally travel across America in, of all things, a train!

I have now watched Curious George 2: Follow That Monkey! somewhere around 17 times, but never all in one sitting. The same goes for you.

What I like best about us watching the movie together is when you observe out loud the relationship between Curious George and The Man in the Yellow Hat:

“George and his daddy are on the train!… George’s daddy is sleepy!… George’s daddy rides the bike!”

In other words, you perceive that The Man in the Yellow Hat is Curious George’s biological father. So that makes George like a half-boy, half-monkey missing link.

It’s sweet of you to associate their relationship to a real father and son. You observe the kind ways The Man in the Yellow Hat treats Curious George and relate it to how I treat you.

Granted, I’m reading between the lines on that, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re doing.

I have a feeling that a lot of little boys think the same thing about Ted Shackelford (A.K.A. The Man in the Yellow Hat) being George’s Daddy.

Likewise, I bet there are plenty of dads (and moms) out there who think their own young son reminds them of a curious little monkey.

I think about how often when we are together, you say “Daddy hold you.” That’s my cue to pick you up, like a pet monkey, as you wrap your arm around my neck and we take a walk, exploring the world.

You’re my monkey. I am the Man in the Yellow Hat.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting, Storytelling

Starfish Gives Birth To Dog, According To 2 Year-Old Marine Biologist

December 12, 2012 at 11:01 pm , by 

2 years.

Dear Jack,

You know who Santa is now; not because Mommy and I have told you about him, but basically because of all the inflatable yard decorations you see on the way home from daycare everyday.

I have a feeling you won’t ever need me to fill in all the magical details about Santa flying through the air in a gravity-defying sleigh, led by a red-nosed reindeer.

Something that really fascinates me about you is how you know the difference between reality and science fiction, at only 2 years old.

Not only do you have bizarre Santa stories surrounding you, but you also have your Thomas the Train TV shows that you watch; accompanied by the matching toys.

That leads you to further use your imagination to make up weird story lines for your playtime. Even in the car yesterday, out of nowhere, you proclaimed:

“Santa crashed into the train… and the birds.”

You’re good at making up grandiose stories involving characters you’re familiar with.

Observing your bath time is always a wonderfully absurd theatrical production. That is why I love being your bath director when Mommy isn’t able to do it.

Your favorite episode is when the purple starfish bath toy speaks to her daughter; a Collie named Charlie.

“It’s Charlie’s Mommy,” you squeak out in a falsetto voice.

Then you walk Charlie closer to listen to his mother, the starfish. From there, it’s pretty much high-pitched Gibberish involving the Starfish mother telling Charlie to get ready for school… I think.

Seriously, how do you separate science fiction from reality?

As hilarious as you are when you play, you still can quickly convert to being more serious; randomly updating me with realistic tidbits:

“Daddy wears the fluffy jacket.”

“I like chocolate for dinner.”

“I stink… I poop.”

Switching back from the world of your imagination to the world of your perception of actual reality is something you do so flawlessly.

I think it’s safe to say you’re going to be a lot like me: You keep your head in the clouds, but you stand on solid ground.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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The Age When Bathing With A Child Becomes Inappropriate

December 9, 2012 at 9:47 pm , by 

2 years.

Dear Jack,

I know that it’s normal for parents to bathe with their kids…up to a certain age.

After all, it saves water and time; both of which should be treated as the commodities they are.

So I also assume that in most American households it’s not so unusual for a child to bathe with a sibling either…but only up to a certain age.

Honestly, I’m not really sure when that age for me was. I just know that at some point family nudity became a thing of the foggy past.

There was no official conversation, no family talk about it, no overt incident where in the likeness of the fall of Adam and Eve, I suddenly realized it was a strange thing to be naked in front of (and with) my family.

But here’s the thing…

I have no plans to bathe with you; as in, I’m in the same bath water or under the same shower nozzle as you. It’s just a personal thing I guess, but I would rather help you bathe while I’m outside of the tub, instead of in the tub with you.

Somehow that makes me feel more in control of the process; like your bath director.

There are many things in this world that I am willing to share with you as your dad, but I don’t think I want bath water to be one of them.

That may seem like a double standard because I so quickly support you coming in the bathroom to watch me use the potty standing up.

For me though, there’s a difference. One seems natural and normal while the other makes me feel uncomfortable, somehow.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll cave when and if you end up with a brother or sister and I find myself so strapped for time that I actually think it’s easier to bathe with you. I can’t know for sure.

Maybe my hesitation has to do with the fact that I perceive taking a shower as a daily ritual where I can truly zone out. Maybe I just don’t want to sacrifice one of the few times of the day where I can actually do nothing and not be responsible for about 12 minutes.

And maybe this is simply more proof that I have no desire to be a helicopter parent. Attachment parenting is just not my style, kid.

I don’t know what percentage of parents, dads in particular, bathe with their young children. Assuming that percentage is the majority, I apologize in advance for all the trauma I will cause you by not sharing bathwater with you.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Bogarting Toys Instead Of Passing And Sharing Them With A Friend

December 9, 2012 at 2:54 pm , by 

2 years.

Dear Jack,

I’m willing to admit: Sharing is a more difficult concept than it sounds.

For the past several months now, I have noticed, and having caught on camera, you bogarting your toys.

By that, I mean that you often carry around 2 or 3 toys at a time, holding them closely to your chest like you just got released from serving time in the slammer.

This is something you do whether you’re just with me and Mommy or you’re playing alongside a friend.

Based on my observations of the way you play with others, I’m assuming your daycare teaches that if a kid is already playing with a toy, another kid can’t just come up and take it away from you; forcing you to “share.”

When you’re forced to share, you’re not really sharing; not from your heart, at least.

In time, you’ll grow to understand the importance of truly sharing; meaning you willingly sacrifice something you care about, on your own initiative, to help someone out because you recognize the personal and moral responsibility of giving to those who have less than you do.

For now, what you usually do when another kid tries to take your toy is you quickly find a different toy and hand it to them.

I like that. It promotes a peace of mind for you, knowing that you aren’t forced to share the exact toy you’re playing with whenever someone else wants it.

Another reason I like this concept is because I don’t want you thinking you can just go up to any other kid and take his toy away. That could either make you a bully or make you be bullied.

I know that right now this is a bit confusing.

After all, at daycare, all those toys are shared among the community. But at home, those toys really are yours. Hence, the popular toddler catch phrase, “MINE!”

So I get it that you want to bogart your own toys when you’re not at daycare. You want to have a sense of ownership since, most of your weekday hours, you don’t.

Sharing is a challenging thing to grasp right now, beyond the rules of your daycare. One day, though, you will choose to share from your heart, instead of because of policy.

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, Storytelling

The Masculine Version Of A Tea Party, Part 1

December 6, 2012 at 10:32 pm , by 

2 years.

Dear Jack,

You have no desire for tea parties.

The thought of you pretending to drink tea and eat delicate crumpets with me while we sit at your Thomas the Train folding table… well, you would just try to wreck the party by plowing through the tea cups with your 4×4 monster school bus or your army of trains.

“Daddy, sit.” That’s what you tell me when you want me to play cars with you at your play table.

You are wired to choose action involving crashes and messes, not role-playing a sophisticated brunch.

Right now our version of having a tea party is pretending to be worried after a train falls off the table, serving as a cliff, because one of us deliberately pushed the thing off the edge. (That plot line is then repeated about 23 times.)

I have great plans for us, Son.

Eventually our “tea parties” will turn into us playing gentlemen’s games like chess, where sitting across the table from each other, we shall sharpen our strategic skills.

From there, we will move up to me teaching you to solve the Rubik’s Cube. We’ll see if you can find a way to beat my own average solve time of 3 minutes, 20 seconds.

Yes, you and I are usually pretty physically rough when we play.

Sometimes you ride on my back as I crawl across the carpet, pretending to be a hungry and angry lion, attempting to shrug you off and eat you for dinner.

Other times you want me to scare you as I hide in the corner, pretend to sleep, then suddenly jump up and act like I am smothering you as I gently lay on top of you, putting all my body weight on the floor, and none of it on you.

But for the times you feel like playing like a gentleman, we take out all that aggressive action on your toys.

Either way, we don’t do tea parties, we do demolition parties.

 

Love,

Daddy