Posts Tagged ‘Fathers And Sons’

I’d Call It A Parent Thing, But I Could Do This Even Before You Were Born

August 17, 2016

About yesterday, son . . .

For what it’s worth, I respect that you don’t like it when I raise my voice.  Truth be told, I prefer it when I’m being soft-spoken myself, but like I told you yesterday, my volume control has a “loud enough to be heard” setting that for all practical purposes can go as high as needed.

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Other Reactions Might Follow, But That Would Definitely Be The First

August 12, 2016

To those who might have wondered how I’d respond if my son one day announced to me, “Dad, I’m gay,” I suspect my first reaction would be, “Hi, Gay.  I’m Dad.”

I Suppose I COULD Do With Having A Better Handle On Things Around Here

June 20, 2016

So for Father’s Day my son proudly presented me with the gift of . . . a door handle left over from a piece of furniture Lala had refurbished.

I think he’s trying to tell me something.

So I Figure I’m Not ALWAYS The Boring Parent

April 7, 2016

I try to teach my son good life lessons, I really do.

This morning, for instance, when he asked me what I wanted to do, in a burst of early morning honesty I answered, “I’ll tell you what I don’t want to do.  I don’t want to clean the coffee pot, grind coffee, boil water, and then wait twenty minutes for the coffee to be ready, but that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Why would you do all those things that you don’t want to do?” he asked.

“Because I want coffee,” I replied.

This is a tricky concept for a five-year-old, which is why I spelled it out like that, but after doing so I had a moment of self-doubt where I devoutly hoped that not all my lessons come across as pedantic as this one did to me in retrospect.

Then I remembered my son’s lesson from yesterday, which was to be suspicious when playing in the sand and your dad calls you over saying, “Check it out!  I made a Sarlacc pit, come see!”  (My hand was, of course, hidden buried under the sand.)

Caught!

March 24, 2016

Okay, son . . . as promised yesterday, it’s time for you to start getting used to your new shoes, so we’re going out.  I know you don’t like change, but there are times embracing, or at least accepting, change is an important part of life, so . . .

What was that?

Yes, I will be remembering to wear my new glasses this time . . .

Yes, You Will

March 23, 2016

Son, I hate shoe shopping.

I hated it as a kid when I was dragged there by my Mom, and I hate it now.  I hate it with such a passion that I wanted to spare you the experience if I could.

Now I know you’re five, and you have no idea what I’m talking about, but I’m telling you now that if you give me any grief today over your new shoes after we went to the trouble to measure your feet here and find shoes online that are almost exactly like your old shoes (because they don’t make those exact shoes in your size anymore), well . . . you will know what I’m talking about.

Just Walk Away . . . Or Fly If That’s An Option For You

March 14, 2016

Son, there are many examples of how Nature tells you “Do NOT touch,” the quills of the porcupine, the warning rattle of the rattlesnake, the offensive spray of the skunk, and so on.  If you pay a little attention, oftentimes you’ll be able to see similar signs with people.

For instance, the girl whose answer to the question “Where is your favorite place to spend time with someone to get to know them?” is “On his private jet . . .”

Especially Because This May Be The Only Time I Ever Hear That From You

November 10, 2015

Today I had an oddly poignant moment with my son.

This morning during a discussion about monsters I told him that monsters never bothered me because “I was too mean.”  At this point my son, despite our frequent clashes of will that almost always end up worse for him than for me, he looked at me in puzzlement and said, “You’re not mean.”

I think your perspective may be skewed there, son, but . . . thanks.  That meant a lot to me.

Not Because It Was Unhealthy, Per Se, But Because You Hadn’t EARNED That Kind Of Special Privilege With Me This Week

August 7, 2015

Today you asked me if I was your friend, son, and I didn’t know how to answer you at first.  As you’ll come to understand in the fullness of time, there are good reasons why “I’m not your friend, I’m your parent!” is a meme, and however well we get along now, my dad certainly wasn’t my friend during the time I was under his roof.

And yet . . .

I don’t base my life on memes, and in ways both good and bad, I’m not my dad, so here’s my answer:

Son, I am your friend . . . conditionally.  I am now and will always be your friend as much as you will allow me to be, but I am without condition your father first, last, and always.

And that, incidentally, is why I told you no ice cream for breakfast.

Post-Father’s Day Thoughts

June 16, 2014

Truth be told, son, even after all this time I still do a little double take every time someone wishes me a happy Father’s Day. For so long Father’s Day was about my Dad, not me, that I spend a split-second moment thinking “Why are they saying that to me?” before my subsequent “Oh, yeah!” moment. That “Oh, yeah!” moment is a really good moment for me, son, let me tell you. It makes up for all the times I misjudged your trajectory as you ran toward me, and let you slip past my guard to headbutt me in the groin.

Which was once.

Today.

This morning.

But don’t worry about it, son. I managed to dodge that moment for over three years, and that’s a pretty good run when you think about it, particularly since when you finally did tag me, you only got a glancing shot. It’s kind of what being a father is all about really.

So was my sending you to your room until the shock wore off.

Thanks for being my son, son.