parenting

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Dear Jack: You Lost 3 Teeth in the Past Week?

12 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Last Thursday you came home, proudly announcing, “I lost a tooth today at school. I stored it in my mouth for the rest of the day.”

You then reached into your mouth and pulled the molar tooth out of its socket.

Then over the weekend on Saturday night, while we were at Nonna and Papa’s house in Alabama, you told everyone you thought you might be losing another tooth.

Within 30 minutes, you pulled it out. Apparently, the Tooth Fairy pays $20 for molars?…

And once we got home on Sunday night, just 24 hours later, you effortlessly pulled out a 3rd tooth.

I then mumbled under my breath: “This probably means puberty is on its way…”

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Holly: “Girls Weekend” with Mommy

6 years, 11 months.

Dear Holly,

You were anticipating it for weeks:

“Girls Weekend” had been on the calendar for a quite a while; as your brother and I were going to be out of town, allowing one-on-one time for you and Mommy during an entire uninterrupted weekend together.

Mommy left it completely up to you for which activity to do on Saturday.

You chose to go back to the go-kart racing place, where we went when Aunt Jenny and Uncle Tom were in town recently.

It was a very special time for you to spend with Mommy last weeekend.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Experimental Slime Surgery

12 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

On Sunday afternoons, I have learned to keep the camera ready, as I never know what kind of wacky way you might find to entertain yourself and your sister.

You decided to compile all the slime, ever, on our kitchen table; and then, using scissors, you performed surgery on the thing.

Some of the slime was bought in a store. Some was home-made, based on kits you received as gifts. Some slime had little bumpy morsels in it.

When combined, it became a magical and disgusting blob.

A great time was had by all!

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: You Apparently Now Have the Official Junior High Haircut…

12 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

This Saturday, we are going to do something we haven’t done since your sister was nearly a baby: We are going to get family photos made, by someone other than me, my tripod, and the self-timer on my camera.

Therefore, to prepare, I took you to Great Clips to get a fresh haircut, which you desperately needed. This time around, you mentioned to the lady cutting your hair that you wanted it a bit different compared to normal.

I didn’t follow what you were describing… something about a “flip”.

Another dad who was waiting for his son’s haircut happened to overhear the conversation and chimed in: “Just go to any junior high school around here. You’ll see it. I call it ‘the flippy-do’…”

You were very pleased with the results. Over the past week, I have silently observed how Mommy has been teaching you to use a curling iron, so that your bangs flip up the right way.

I think your new hairstyle only confirms the fact that you look like the boy version of the Chelsea doll.

 

Love,

Daddy

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Dear Jack: Despite All Your Rage, You Are Still Just a Boy in a Cage…

12 years, 3 months.

Dear Jack,

Sunday afternoon, it was beautiful outside. Everyone from our neighborhood was hanging out in the cul-de-sac.

As Mommy and I were catching up with the neighbors across the street from us, who we have barely seen since winter started, a lady walking her dog casually came up and joined the conversation.

Pretty quickly, she asked us, “What’s up with those boys in the cage that I just walked by? Why are they in there?”

I immediately responded, with not an ounce of shame, “Yeah, that’s our son there in the cage. My understanding is that one of the neighbors around here was getting rid of their old dog crate, so they had it sitting out by the front of the street. So now, our son and one of his friends are playing in it.”

She felt a little awkward by my response, but decided to stick around for the fellowship. A few minutes later, she looked back at the cage situation, and announced, “Oh! Now there is a little girl in a pink Jeep who is running into the cage with the boys in it…”

I cut her off by saying, “Yeah, that’s our little girl. Looks like she is seeking revenge on her older brother, and he is taunting her to do it.”

Your sister also was throwing a tennis ball at the cage as hard as she could too.

It was like watching a kitten taunt two bulldogs chained to a tree.

 

Love,

Daddy