September 20, 2013 at 8:05 pm , by Nick Shell

2 years, 10 months.

Dear Jack,

I would like to believe that I will grow old with you. That’s definitely my goal.

But something I am forcing myself to think about is… what if I didn’t? What if right now, something happened to me?

Would you actually remember me at this point in your life?

Would you read these near daily letters I’ve written to you and simply think about how you sort of remember me?

Or is there any possiblity that our memories together have stuck with you enough that I’ll always be a part of you, without any visual prompts needed?

It’s a strange and sad thought for me because my life is consumed by you. I remember everything we do and say together.

What if you only had these letters to go by to know who I was? Have I been thorough and open enough so that you would know who I really am and what mattered to me?

And if not, what would I want you to know?

I hope it would be obvious that I loved you and Mommy more than anything; that my world would fall apart without either of you in it.

I hope you would be able to see that my faith in God was what my relationship with you and Mommy was built on, despite my shortcomings which often reveal themselves in these letters.

I hope there would be no question that I was an eccentric man who lived an interesting life. It matters to me that you know this about me, because I wish the same for you.

Well, I’m sure I could go on and on about what I would want you to know about me, about yourself at this age, and about life itself.

But again, I plan to be around a very long time. So if I get my wish, there will be plenty of more letters to write you in these decades to come. I’ll tell you all about it.

I love you.

 

Love,

Daddy

August 27, 2013 at 10:24 pm , by Nick Shell

2 years, 9 months.

Dear Jack,

A concept that is going viral right now is that at age 32, according to a poll on Netmums.com, we “turn into our parents.”

The Netmums News Team explains it like this:

“It is at this age when we are most likely to find ourselves echoing our own parents’ phrases or mannerisms…

The grown-up responsibilities of having children, owning a house and having a busy career all contributed to the feeling of becoming more and more like your own parents.”

Fate would have it that I just so happen to be a 32 year-old daddy blogger at the exact moment in history when this concept has gone viral. That’s pretty cool, huh?

So, have I become my parents? Do I echo their phrases and mannerisms? Do I feel more like my own parents because I have a child and own a house and have a busy career, too?

Yes and no.

No, because I feel like they made this parenting thing, as well as the busy career and owning a house thing, seem so worry-free and easy.

In that way, I feel like I haven’t turned into them, though I want to.

Maybe I’m realizing that I am giving myself an extra challenge as a parent because I want this all to seem as easy as I thought it was for my own parents.

As far as how I have definitely turned into my parents, I do admit to using my hands a lot when I talk- which tends to happen when your mother is half Italian.

Basically, my personality comes from my mom. I’ve never really thought about that before… interesting.

And it’s pretty evident to me that I am ultimately a vegan (I mean, I’m living a plant-based lifestyle; which is the more marketable, less offensive term) because it seems like my dad was always teaching me as a kid to question where our food comes from and to relate eating processed foods to getting cancer and diseases.

So it should be no surprise that, as a 32 year-old adult, I now associate Monsanto with the devil and I see GMO foods as the mark of the beast. (That’s a slight exaggeration. Not really.)

I felt so deprived because it seemed I was the only kid I knew who wasn’t allowed to eat white bread or drink soda at his own house except for on very special occasions. (I thank my dad for that now!)

He seemed to always have a distrust of medicine and the FDA, instead teaching me to rely on what was already available in nature to prevent and cure health problems. (Which is exactly what I successfully did with my eczema, severe allergies, and sinus problems!)

Plus, he was always open-minded to the unpopular theories that mainstream society and popular culture often ridiculed or ignored, which I think was fundamental in me becoming a Libertarian, in regards to my political stances.

So yes, at age 32, I’m pretty much a mix of my parents the way I remember them while growing up; which again, wasn’t at all a negative thing.

The question is, will you become me in about 30 years? If so, you’ll basically become your grandparents.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. The pictures of me with my parents, featured above, are from around Christmas 1983, nearly 30 years ago, which is when I was about your age now.

June 3, 2013 at 11:28 pm , by Nick Shell

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

You’ve had My Pal Scout (by LeapFrog) since you were a newborn. He’s a toy you’ve literally grown up with. However, it’s now at age 2 and a half that Scout is truly relevant to your life more than ever.

Now that you can talk, it’s like Scout has truly come to life! He’s a real talking puppy… at least, I think that’s what you think.

Sometimes to stall going to bed, you’ll ask for socks from the closet, then see a toy you haven’t played with in the past 4 months; ever since you became obsessed with monster trucks, that is.

That happened to be the case with Scout.

“Jack, let me show you how to play with him. If you want to play games, just press this red ball of yarn on his paw,” I explained.

Scout began talking to you:

“Hi Jack, wanna play?”

In a half-second’s time of confusion, astonishment, and wonder, I saw your eyebrows go up as you excitedly and hesitantly replied with a smile, “Yeah!”

Then Scout continued to engage you: “My favorite animal is a giraffe. Jack, is that your favorite animal too?”

How could it be that this green puppy who has been hanging out in the closet has the same interests as you? He even likes bananas, as you do, and sang about them to you.

Granted, Mommy customized Scout online a couple years ago to say your name and interests. But to you, he’s a cool dog who can talk.

And so the bromance began. All last weekend, Scout was your buddy. You were sort of bummed that I wouldn’t let you take him to the zoo.

At least I let you eat dinner with him.

I think Mommy just needs to program Scout to say he likes monster trucks… then you’ll really be all set!

 

Love,

Daddy

May 29, 2013 at 9:54 pm , by Nick Shell

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

You should know: There’s this stereotype that little boys like playing with sticks and playing in the mud.

As if you really are so magnetically drawn to finding ways to get dirty and make messes; whether indoors or outdoors…

As if every time I take you to the park during my lunch break, you bypass the actual playground so you can collect sticks to throw them into the water and “make soup…”

As if you were predestined, and even hard-wired in your DNA as a little boy, to be so predictable like that…

Oh, snap.

Actually, all those things are true about you.

In fact, you sort of slipped on that rock and fell in the water; getting your whole left foot wet.

That’ll be our little secret. I cleaned you up good enough that no one seemed to notice by the time I took you back to school.

I also won’t mention the part about (or show the pictures of) you running from one end of the park to the other with your stick raised in the air like it was helping you fly.

After all, you had your cool skull-and-crossbones sunglasses on. Or, as I considered them in that moment, your “safety goggles.”

It’s funny to me that during our Friday afternoon tradition of going to the park, you never really look happy: You look pretty serious most of the time we’re there.

But I know the value of “serious” Daddy/son play time. You and I need regular time together in which words are not necessary; just primitive caveman stuff.

Yes, technically, you’re playing; but specifically, you exploring and experimenting with nature.

I guess your theory is this: If the good Lord intended for us to play with toys, He wouldn’t have given us sticks and mud.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

 

 

May 16, 2013 at 10:00 pm , by Nick Shell

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

I no longer have a 2 year-old son. As of today, I can start referring to you as my “2 and a half year-old.”

You are just as close to your (assumed) monster truck & dinosaur themed 3 year-old birthday party as you are to your Thomas the Train themed 2 year-old birthday party.

I look at you now and see how you’re clearly looking more like both Mommy and me.

Sure, the (now darkening) blonde hair and blue eyes are still a surprise, but gone are the days when I would write about how you don’t really look like either of your parents.

Something I was thinking about this week is how in classic sitcoms, by around the 5th season, the family would typically have another child, to better engage the audience with fresh new story lines.

From there, the next season would feature the zaniness of life with a new infant and baby. Then magically, the following season, that toddler who could barely talk instantly became a wise-crackin’, catch-phrase coinin’ 5 year-old.

In other words, producers of classic sitcoms evidently had reason to believe that the ages between about 2 and 5 were not interesting enough to entertain.

Okay… here we are. Let’s find out. As a 2 and a half year-old, falling in the category of what I call “the flyover years,” will  life still be interesting? Will you still be just as funny and entertaining to Mommy and me as you’ve been for the past 2 and a half years?

I’m thinking yes.

I’m eager to prove writers of classic sitcoms wrong, as if that’s even a thing that matters.

If you were a character in a family sitcom in 1988, you would be replaced today by a different, older actor.

Well, I’m keeping you. I predict life won’t skip a beat, even if you’re entering the flyover years.

 

Love,

Daddy