I see that there’s a fire station over by the bookcase, with three engines and an ambulance. What looks like random chaos is anything but. Trucks litter the floor of the family room.
Does that sound good Daddy?” He then ran to a spot on the “court” and heaved up a basketball about the size of his entire upper body, grinning like the Cheshire cat the whole time. Earlier tonight, he held the ball and declared, “I’m going to screen my guy, and roll to the hoop for a slam dunk. He’s at the stage where he mimics the words and cadence of his older brother, often jumbling the intended meaning. When dinner ended this evening, our 2-year old had insisted on playing basketball at the hoop in the guest room. I could get alarmed at the obvious safety hazard, but I chuckle to myself instead. I will tell him tomorrow that he did the right thing by owning up to it.Īs I turn towards a trash can, my eye catches a basketball by the top of the stairs. Seeing the crumpled wrapper tonight, however, makes me smile. In this case, I went into disappointed mode. “I made a ten one hundred million mistake.” I did the thing that parents do in moments like that: I chose the reaction that I thought would best instruct and minimize similar future behavior. “Daddy, I have to tell you something,” he said, with a frightful look on his face. By the time I put him to bed, I had forgotten all about it, until about 10 minutes later when he emerged from his room, wearing a chocolate mustache and a guilty conscience.
He convinced me to let him keep it in his room, assuring me that he just wanted it among his other toys for the night. It still had plastic eggs in it, and inside the eggs were some of the chocolate coins from last year’s holiday. Earlier that day, he had found his Easter basket tucked away in its place in the closet. It is a piece of evidence from an incident the night before. Outside our 4-year old’s room, I see a gold foil wrapper, crumpled up. The fact that we’re printing the story does, however, reflect a belief that it is an interesting and worthwhile read. Opinions expressed in the story do not reflect the opinions of Fatherly as a publication. This story was submitted by a Fatherly reader. I like to linger in those moments, putting myself in their shoes, feeling close to them, reveling in who they are, and who they are becoming. More than that, the wreckage tells a story of who they are in that exact moment, their developmental stage, their interests, their personality. It’s like reading an executive summary of their day. I walk around the house at night when the boys are in bed and survey the objects left behind. Picking up after our two boys and making sure their favorite shirts and pajamas are clean and stacked neatly in their dresser are some of the most rewarding things I do as a dad. Some men might find those roles emasculating, and anyone might find them demeaning. Since we had kids, I’ve tended to be the primary clean-up crew and laundry service provider. My wife would describe me as a neat freak, with an emphasis on freak.
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