Greetings Little One

New duties for Daddy

I’ve been driving you to school and picking you up after school for the past week, little one, as Mommy remains at home on bed rest. Though this has created many problems for me in terms of getting my lessons and materials ready for the school day, I’m actually surprisingly pleased that I have been temporarily assigned this duty.

Before Mommy’s doctor-ordered bed rest, the drop off and the pick up procedures were mysteries to me, and to be honest, they were a little frightening as well. I had heard stories of your tantrums and fits of crying upon being left at the doors of your classroom. I knew about mornings when Mommy was forced to scrape you off the floor of the living room and drag you to the car under fits of protest.

I had no idea how any of it would go for me. You tend to reject change at every turn. But honestly, little one, it could not have gone better. Fortunately, you have yet to erupt into a crying fit or tantrum for me. Instead, you have been shockingly agreeable and compliant most of the time, but the part that has surprised me the most has been the in between time that we spend in the car. The conversations that we have to and from school are amazing. Stories about your day at school, your plans for the week, the books that you are reading, and the songs that you have just learned. Yesterday you read a book to me on the way to school, reciting each page by memory, and I can’t remember a better fifteen minutes that I have ever spent in a car.

Life will become decidedly easier for me when Mommy can resume her drop off and pick up duties, little one, but my mornings and afternoon will also become a little less fun for me as well.   

Where is Daddy’s mommy?

This morning you asked about my mother, little one. It was the first time you did so.

I took out some old photographs and we looked through them together. You never actually asked where she was.

Do you know? DO you even know what death means?

You loved the photographs, and you were very sad when it was time to leave. 

It was an unforgettable morning for me, little one, but an incredibly difficult one as well. 

  

My new favorite photograph of us

Like daughter, like father

You were not a fan of my thumb sucking, little one.  You laughed at first, but after a minute, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked concerned.   

“It’s my job!” you said. 

As you say with many things.

And you wanted to wait in the car…

You and I arrived at the store, little one.  I parked the car.

“Okay, sweetie.  We need to go inside and pick up my tuxedo. Then we can go to lunch.”

“I’ll wait in the car,” you said.

“What?”

“I want to wait in the car, Daddy.”

I couldn’t believe it. You were reading a Clifford the Big Red Dog book and had no desire to exit the vehicle.  It was the first time you had ever asked to remain in the car alone.

You sounded more like your mother than any other time in your life thus far.    

I admit that for a moment, I considered granting your request.  I figured that if I entered the store and remained by the door, with one eye on the car while the salesman retrieved my tuxedo, you would be fine.

This is why mothers exist. I knew that Mommy would kill me if she ever found out what I had done. 

And it turned out pretty great for you, little one.  You discovered the mirrored platform used by the store’s tailor inside the store, which she mistook for her own personal stage. 

It took me about fifteen to extract you from “the stage” and exit the store, and only after agreeing to dance with you in front of an audience of salesmen and customers.  

Buffering, procrastination and taunts from the mouth of a babe

While putting you to bed tonight, little one, you said the following things:

1. Peep is buffering, Daddy. 

You were watching Peep and the Big Wide World on your iPhone while I was brushing your teeth, combing your hair and sliding on your pajamas. 

Yes, you were correct.  The video was buffering.

2. I don’t want you to turn the page. Then I’ll have to go to bed! Read it again!

We were reading CORDOROY and had arrived at the penultimate page.  As I went to turn it, you grabbed my hand and stopped me.  You knew that once we finished reading the book, you would need to go to bed.

Procrastination at its best. 

3. Daddy, I want to taste the sky.  Can you taste it with me?

You continue to taunt me in terms of my inability to reach the stratosphere, little one. 

The Boogha Boogha Monster returns after more than two decades

When I was a kid, little one, my brothers and sisters and I would often spend our evenings playing a game that we called Monster.

I would be given a few minutes to hide somewhere outside and around our home, and then my brothers and sisters would begin wandering about, hoping to avoid being snatched up by me.

Being the eldest, I was faster and stronger than the rest, so if I caught one of them, dragging them away and hiding them in the barn or the garage or behind the oak tree at the end of the driveway was not difficult.  It was then the job of the surviving siblings to rescue their comrade before they were captured as well.

I think it was actually a little terrifying for them at times.  We would play well after dark, and I was extremely good at surprising and scaring them half to death. 

I think the game may have been an offshoot of a similar game we played with our father before he and my mother divorced, except his version of Monster had us wandering around the darkened house, clutching one another in mortal terror, waiting for him to pop out of a closet or from behind the sofa.  

When he left, I guess I took his place and became the monster.  

We played this game for years, ignoring rain and snow and Gypsy moths in order to do so.  And I’ve often wondered what caused the game finally end, and more importantly, when our last game of Monster was played.

Did I know that this would be the final time I played a game that filled up so much of my childhood?

Probably not.  As with most things, the game probably came to an end without any of us ever even noticing.

Well, it turns out that Monster hasn’t ended after all.  While playing a much-simplified version of hide-and-go seek with you at the park this week, I popped out from behind a slide and shouted, “Boogha! Boogha!”  

You thought this was hilarious and immediately dubbed me The Boohga Boogha Monster. 

And so a new version of Monster was born:

 

Early morning ban on Daddy

Over the last month, you have indicated that you would prefer that Mommy remove you from the crib in the morning, and other than a cursory note of hello and a tentative hug, you want nothing to do with me in the mornings, little one.

“No! Mommy!” is your standard refrain to any of my attempts to hug, kiss or play with you.

I have said before that I would like you to remain this age forever, but this is one aspect of your current developmental stage that I could do without.

Happy Daddy

You and Mommy met me at the mall for dinner tonight, little one. 

As Mommy pulled into the parking lot, you said, “There's the mall.  Daddy's inside.  I love he.  He cuddles me.”

That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me, little one.  

Football and fun

I was at the Patriots game when you were visiting your friends and taking this wagon ride, little one. 

Patriots games are often all-day affairs.  Longs days. Fun days. But sad days, too, because I am away from you and Mommy. 

I love the Patriots, and I love you, and I love knowing that you are having fun when I am away, little one.