The Shortest, Sweetest Apology Ever.

Sorry. It’s one of the toughest words in the English language to say. For kids, it’s a word that has to be teased out under threat of material loss. That’s why I was blown away recently when my 5-year-old son wrote me a letter of apology without any prompting at all.

The offense? Honestly, he hadn’t done anything wrong. We were playing a quick game of Pancake Flip before bedtime. Pancake Flip is a sophisticated game played with plastic rackets and a pair of rolled socks. You lie on a bed and flip the socks back and forth as many times as possible without dropping them or allowing them to touch the walls. Our record is 247 flips. (I know, right?!?) One evening, we were playing and Conor accidentally hit the socks to an inaccessible area behind his bed. A few minutes later, it happened again. Because it was getting late, I gave him the old three strikes and you’re out warning. Sure enough, within minutes the third pair of socks had disappeared into the abyss. Game over.

I could tell he was upset. But it didn’t seem any different than when I ask him to turn off the iPad or to pick up his toys. I retreated to my office to send a couple of emails before starting our bedtime routine. Moments later, he emerged with a piece of paper. In the upper left hand corner he had written the letters SRE. In the lower half, a series of Rs. SRE? I asked, “What’s this, buddy?” “It says sorry, dad. See, I wrote the letters S…R…E.” OH, SRE was his attempt at spelling SORRY! No joke, I about lost it. It was heartbreaking to think that he thought that had let me down in some way. But I was also so proud of him. To sit and write an apology letter on his own accord when he can’t even spell…wow!

But what about the Rs at bottom, I asked? He confessed he isn’t very good at Rs and wanted to practice before writing it in a word. I told him how proud I was and made sure he knew that he hadn’t upset me in any way. He said he was just sad and felt bad we wouldn’t be able to break the record. I assured him that 248 flips would come soon enough. As soon as we bought some new socks.

I will hold onto this letter forever. It will serve as a sweet reminder that sorry may be a tough word to say, but it’s also a very powerful word. No matter how you spell it.

The Toys Have Eyes

I often look at my son and wonder what’s going on in that head of his. What is he thinking at 16 months? How much of all this does he understand? His eyes are a telltale sign that there’s definitely thought going on.

Is it just that he’s constantly at work trying to decode this secret language that’s going to unlock his entire world and someday allow him to actually tell us he has to poop while the poop is still in the pipeline? Or is he just processing all the things around him? Shapes. Colors. People.

Wouldn’t it be great if I could just ask him. Actually, if I could ask him just one question, it wouldn’t be How much of this do you get? And it wouldn’t be Who do you love more, me or mommy? (Because I think I know the answer to that one already.) No, if I could ask him one question it would be this: Do the eyes on all your toys creep you out, too?

Because then and only then I might understand why toy companies around the world believe that the best way to make a toy more fun and playful is to paste eyes on it somewhere. What??? Haven’t they seen the movies? That’s a terrible idea!

As I write this blog, there are at least four toys within eyesight that have eyes. Not dolls. Not teddy bears. But a phone. A block. A word learning toy. And a car. If God had wanted these things to have eyes, He would’ve created them with eyes. But He didn’t. Because He knew that it would do nothing but make them creepy.

I honestly believe if my son could say just one thing to me right now. If, in a moment of precocious brilliance he could piece together a sentence, he would say Give the phone to Raylan! And you know what, I would. Along with the block, the learning device and the car.

The toys have eyes and I don’t like it! It’s time to do something about it. Sleep well, little Raylan, sleep well.

Attention All Toddlers: The Official Language of Daddy is English

I am very aware that the English language is one of the most difficult to learn. Judging by the all-too-frequent look of confusion on my girlfriend’s face, I’m pretty sure I still speak some form of broken English. So I completely understand and can appreciate when toddlers begin exploring new ways to overcome the baby communication barrier. But what starts as oh-so-cute can get oh-so-less-cute very quickly.

My youngest son, just over a year old, is now pointing to communicate. I want…that! No not that, THAT! Take me that way! Now, take me over there! Now let’s go upstairs! Cute, right? Until you attempt to change his diaper or take him to bed. He begins frantically pointing in any and every direction and I can see deep, dark thoughts crossing his face as he contemplates gouging my eyes out with his pointer finger. (I’m positive that’s what he’s thinking!)

The pointing is a recent development but he’s been babbling pretty much since the day he was born. As he’s gotten older, I’ve made out a few words here and there. “Momma.” “Dadda.” “Nana.” But 99% of what he’s said remains a mystery to the world. Judging by the expression on his face, it’s of life and death importance too. Until there’s a Rosetta Stone to translate babbling, this endless, streaming one-way conversation is going absolutely nowhere.

Honestly, I can take the pointing and the babbling when it’s just my son. However, when I take him to daycare every morning is when cute becomes something else entirely. Imagine the babbling and pointing on a massive, multiplied scale. Six, seven, maybe even a hundred snotty nosed kids yammering and directing your attention here and there! All of them at once are drawn to you like you’re a magnet. They’re all so dead serious, too. This is where I reach my limit and have to draw the line.

Attention kiddos: As of today, the official language of daddy is English. I’ll accept broken English. Queen’s English. Even old English. But the pointer finger should now only be used to pin down spaghettiOs and for spotting small animals and airplanes. Babbling should be kept to a minimum, please, as you have to earn the right to incoherently babble, as daddy has clearly done. Thank you for your understanding.

A New Beginning. Again.

First of all, welcome to my world. Wow! I did not think I would be here again. Secondly, yes, I do know how “it” works. I mean, as much as any guy knows how “it” works. Honestly, we’re better at the external anatomy. We get lost on all that crazy stuff inside. Probably because when our teachers pulled out those reproductive diagrams way back when, our eyes were drawn straight to the vagina. Maybe it was the devil. Maybe it was the testosterone. It just wasn’t by choice.

Oh look, there’s the diagram now. Wow, okay, I do have a few questions. Like why do the ovaries look like cotton candy??? But I digress.

So sixteen years ago, my first son was unexpected. But we were absolutely thrilled! And he’s turned out to be more intelligent, more thoughtful, more athletic, more perfect than I could have ever imagined. This past year, my second son was a total surprise, to say the least. But again, I’m thrilled!

What’s interesting about all of this to me though is how much I’ve changed since my first son was born. I was at a completely different place in life. I was just starting my career. I was stressed about…everything, really. And I had no idea who I was. Now, I’m established in my career. While things like money and work can still be challenging at times, I don’t allow them to affect me and my moods as much. And I know exactly who I am.

So what does that mean to my situation? Everything. While I love both of my boys exactly the same, I take more time to enjoy quiet moments with my younger son than I did with my older son. I cherish the milestones more. I really, really don’t want to see him grow up. Because it happens way too fast. And I know, because my oldest son will be headed off to college in about a year.

While this isn’t my first go round, it is a new beginning. Again. And I look forward to soaking up as many special moments as I can. And I even look forward to sharing some of them with you. Welcome! Now, about that diagram…