March 24, 2014 at 7:57 pm , by Nick Shell

3 years, 4 months.

Continued from Part 1: The Dishwasher Man.

Dear Jack,

We were at the toy store this past Saturday, just looking, while Mommy was at the Lifeway Christian store. As we were browsing through the Disney’s Cars aisle, we saw a grandmother, mother, and young son; I could tell they were on a mission.

“Is there a certain one you’re looking for?” I asked them, out of nowhere.

I ended up sending them across the street to Target, where I explained they were more likely to find the “Sally” car for a lower price; based on my experience of Christmas present shopping for you.

Then Saturday afternoon as we were on a family walk in the neighborhood and a lady with a dog  was coming towards us, I announced to you that the nice lady had atalking dog.

I spoke with a deep, New York accent and pretended to be the dog, saying, “Hey Jack, do you like dogs?”

Yep, I carried on a 30 second conversation with you, as a dog; while both Mommy and the dog’s owner just smiled at each other at first.

Fun for us, slightly awkward for them. But it did lead to a real, actual conversation betwen Mommy and the dog’s owner.

Even just now as I’m writing this, Mommy proclaimed to me, “You definitely talk to random strangers more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life.”

Thinking back, I would say the same thing about my Italian grandfather, “Paw Paw Metallo.”

So yeah, I learned it from him and I’m teaching that skill to you.

Granted, I only want you talking to strangers when I’m there too, for now. But I think that talking to strangers is a really good and important thing.

You never know when you can really make someone’s day. My suggestion is to stay away from generic conversation topics like the weather and “how are you?” as they tend to be pretty impersonal.

I think you did a great job this past weekend when you talked to the dishwasher man. I also liked how you also recently told your new gymnastics teacher, in the middle of the class, that you have a blue Cheetah named Cheety.

Yes, personality is part of it, but the main thing is, you find a way to get the conversation going. My experience is that people like that.

Even though you may be a complete stranger to them, I’ve learned most people appreciate the engagement, in what might otherwise be an ordinary day.

It’s important for fathers to teach and pass on skills to their sons. Since installing a new dishwasher or doing auto repairs will never be things I am knowledgeable enough to teach you about, I can teach you to talk to strangers.

And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. Read the entire Talking To Strangers series:

 Part 1: The Dishwasher Man

Part 2: The Talking Dog

Part 3: The Kohl’s Incident

March 15, 2014 at 10:18 pm , by Nick Shell

3 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

This morning our family got to go to a Monster Jam truck show, and to my surprise, we actually arrived thereearly.

That… never happens.

Fortunately, it was a fairly sunny (and non-rainy) day to enjoy some fresh air around the nearby park. So we did.

It was today that I officially realized something:

You refuse to walk when Mommy and I take you out in public; in large, open-ended spaces.

However, you have no reservations whatsover about running continuously like Pac-Man trying to eating as many of those white dots as he can before he has to avoid a ghost.

And with all that running around, you mysteriously don’t find yourself short on energy. In fact, today, I served as your pace car; making sure you didn’t run too far ahead of me into the street or the pond with all the ducks and giant goldfish.

The entire time, you had a toy Monster Jam truck in each hand… and you never stumbled or fell.

Granted, the moment that Mommy and I told you it was time for us to make our way into the building, as the show would soon be beginning, you instantly changed your tune:

“Daddy, hold me…. Mommy, hold me.”

Your feet didn’t hit the floor again until we got home, because you were carried around the rest of the day.

I get it. You’re not lazy. You actually love getting out and burning off energy, obviously.

What you want from Mommy and me is physical affection in the form of an embrace. I suppose it won’t be until later on that you began to understand the concept of what hugs are really for… or being cuddly on a more regular basis.

Right now, you’re more about being held and/or being tickled, when it comes to physical affection.

So you won’t walk in public, but you sure will run. Classic.

 

Love,

Daddy

March 15, 2014 at 8:41 pm , by Nick Shell

3 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

Thursday night, Mommy went out for coffee with her friend Karen for her official “Mommy’s Night Out” for the month. (I get one too, but it’s called “Daddy’s Night Out” instead, obviously.)

I didn’t mind whatsoever, but I admit since that meant I would be putting you to bed, I sort of needed to speed through the process so I could finish up the dishes and catch up on some other work before Mommy got home.

You wanted me to play trains with you, though we already had our play time. Then you wanted me to read an extra story. And you wanted me sing an extra song after I had already sang you two Christmas carols.

I knew that the more time I spent upstairs with you, the less time I’d have to get my work done before Mommy got home. But then I reminded myself:

It’s easy to take these moments for granted.

You’ll be this age and in this stage… for a limited time only.

That’s one of the reasons I always put your age in years and the month at the top of every letter: to remind myself of how fast you’re growing up.

As hectic as our schedules are, we really don’t get to spend as much quality time as a family as we wish; it’s basically limited to the weekend for the most part.

And as far as exclusive father and son time, that’s even more rare. Sure, I take you to and from school every day, but there’s not much physical interaction there.

So I decided to let the work downstairs delay for a little while. You and me had a tickle fight instead.

It’s interesting how you don’t even put up a fight, other than try to shield yourself with your blanket like a turtle trying to hide in his shell.

Sure, it’s easy to take these moments for granted, but I didn’t this time.

And I still got the dishes done by the time Mommy got home.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

February 18, 2014 at 8:37 pm , by Nick Shell

3 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

You and I are recovering from a little bit of culture shock right now.

Until this morning, the last time I really got to hang out with you was Friday morning, when I stayed home with you because you were sick.

And obviously, when you’re sick, you’re not yourself anyway… to put it lightly.

It was only today that you were well enough to be back at school; not to mention school was closed yesterday for Presidents’ Day.

But this morning was the first time just you and I have been in the car together, just us, since last Wednesday, because Mommy picked you up last Thursday.

After analyzing all that info, it helps me understand all the reasons you and I have been out of sync.

Our car rides together are a big part of our relationship. I realize that now.

Until this morning in the car, as we saw two hot air balloons in the distance, we had not really had a conversation since the middle of last week.

I’m glad to have you back. I missed you. You’re like a different boy when you’re sick, like I said.

Now we can bond again over manly conversations about Corvettes and donkeys.

It really puts things into perspective when I consider that my “guy time” with you is something I’ve grown accustomed to by now. I know it’s weird to think about your daddy having social needs too, but I do.

Feeling connected to you helps me feel alive. When I don’t feel connected to you, it sort unplugs me from reality a little bit… I think.

I get it that there’s a 29 and a half year difference between us, but even when we’re just chilling on the drive to school, we’re still having some quality time together.

After several days without our guy time, I have learned how much we depend on it.

 

Love,

Daddy