Posts Tagged ‘ Easter ’

I Turned 33 On Easter… How Appropriate?

Sunday, April 20th, 2014

3 years, 5 months.

Dear Jack,

At 5:58 this morning, I woke up to you yelling outside my bedroom, “It’s a pink bunny! The one I always wanted!”

Yes, you woke up, before the sun, and discovered your Easter basket.

After Mommy and I watched you officially unpack your Easter Spiderman bucket, then it was my turn…

Yep, I turned 33 today.

I admit it almost seemed a little bit wrong celebrating my birthday on the same day designated by Christians as the day to celebrate Christ’s resurrection.

Yet at the same time, it’s pretty interesting because, from what I understand, Christ was 33 years old when He was crucified and resurrected- and here I am, turning 33 on the day that is celebrated.

My birthday was never been on Easter in my lifetime, until today.

So right after you checked out your Easter gifts, I unwrapped my birthday gifts from Mommy- which were perfect, by the way:

A $10 “lunch money” gift card for Whole Foods, two vegan chocolate bars, and a Groupon for Mommy and me to go whitewater rafting on our 6th wedding anniversary in July, while Nana and Papa watch you all day.

Mommy is just so thoughtful.

I had a great 33rd birthday today, even if it means it’s the last year of me being in my “early 30s.”

Being nearly a third of age 100 is fine by me. I feel young… and I know I’ve stil got plenty to learn as human being, and especially as a parent.

You’ll be my age in 30 years. My plan is that these near-daily letters I write to you will help teach you about life lin general, not simply just recap your own life with snazzy collages and cleverly captioned photos.

Great birthday, great Easter.

Your Auntie Dana made you and your cousin Calla some homemade “vegan chocolate peanut butter bunnies” that I think made you cuckoo, as it appears from this pictures.

And if you’re wondering why I’m sitting at “the kids’ table” with you two, it’s because you politely invited me to join you.

So I did.

I ate lunch with the 3 year-olds, instead of the adults.

That was very nice of you to think of me, Son.

Of course, after you celebrated both Easter and your daddy’s birthday, you needed some rest.

Talking you into taking a nap today was unnecessary.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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You Don’t Have To Teach A Boy To Make A Mess… Or To Find Trouble!

Tuesday, April 15th, 2014

3 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

Saturday morning as we were getting ready to go to the Vanderbilt scrimmage game, which we actually missed because we were hanging way too long at a new vegan café we discovered thanks to a Groupon… you were being quiet and happy over at the window sill.

Finally, you announced to Mommy and me:

“Look, I’m killing this bug!”

Turns out, the thing was already dead. So I guess what you meant to say was that you were dissecting the bug… by smashing it with a vanilla-scented candle.

(All while wearing your “Just Like Daddy” t-shirt.)

Little black legs were everywhere.

I let you have your fun- after all, you’re a boy. You’re supposed to scrape up your elbows and knees… and make messes.

Granted, I don’t have to teach you to do this. You just naturally know where to find the right environment.

Again, I support it. You need to be a boy.

But it goes without saying that I provided you with the handheld vacuum cleaner and made you suck up all the loose bug body parts.

Then Sunday night while Mommy and I were preparing dinner, again you were being quiet and happy… the perfect combination for you to find trouble.

You had discovered some candy that you were supposed to save until Easter. Yeah, Mommy and I caught you “brown handed,” underneath your chair.

But we were laughing way too hard to be the least bit upset with you.

Besides, whether you had that non-approved candy then or on Easter, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway. Delaying the sugar rush only to add it to the jackpot on Easter doesn’t make much sense, I guess.

Being a boy is fun. Discover your world. I will be there to laugh with you. And sometimes, at you.

Can you blame me?

Love, Daddy

Find fun crafts your kids can make with stuff you already have at home (except dead bugs).

Mom Confessions: The Strangest Thing I've Found in My Purse Was...
Mom Confessions: The Strangest Thing I've Found in My Purse Was...
Mom Confessions: The Strangest Thing I've Found in My Purse Was...

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Will The Real Easter Bunny Please Hop Up?

Tuesday, April 15th, 2014

3 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

In the past few weeks, you have seen the Easter Bunny three times now. I really wish I could know exactly what you’re thinking when you see him.

My guess is that your perception of the Easter Bunny is similar to the way you perceive Trotro the donkey, on Netflix.

You have explained to me, “No, Daddy. Trotro is not a donkey or a boy… he’s a donkey boy.”

So that means the Easter Bunny is not a bunny or a man, but a bunny man.

I’m sure you are further confused by the fact that all three Easter Bunnies you’ve seen here recently looked completely different.

The yellow one in the middle of the Opry Mills Mall sort of looked like a grandpa, wearing wire framed glasses.

About 50 feet away was the brown bunny standing in the doorway of Build-A-Bear (who is not advertised as the Easter Bunny, but it is implied). That one apparently is female- and definitely the happiest. She silently giggles a lot.

Actually, I’ve never considered this, but there is no solid reason why the Easter Bunny has to be a male.

It’s confirmed then- I am officially open-minded to Build-A-Bear’s concept of the Easter Bunny… that he may be a she.

And then there’s the Kroger Easter Bunny.

He sort of followed us around like a puppy; which wasn’t a bad thing. I would say he was more like a real bunny and less of a bunny man.

I think his goal was for us to get our picture made with him. It worked.

He even watched as you got your hands painted.

Nothing says Easter like a snake and a hippo; per your request, of course.

Being a kid is great, isn’t it?

You get to live in a mysterious world where enchanted mutant bunnies appear in public in the weeks leading up to Easter, then all of the sudden get shy and sneak in during the middle of the night to give you candy and toys.

Sounds a little passive-aggressive, though… right? You don’t question that at all and neither did I, at your age.

Logic isn’t so important to you at this stage in life. I miss that.

 

Love,

Daddy

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The Toddler Food Pyramid: Boogers Not Included

Friday, March 29th, 2013

2 years, 4 months.

Dear Jack,

You’re like me: You often process your thoughts out loud, sometimes not realizing that other people are listening and taking your curious trains of thought more seriously than you are.

Today as I drove you home from school and we listened to John Lennon sing “goo goo g’joob,” you interrupted “I Am The Walrus” with this deep philosophical creed:

“I not eat boogers? I eat food?”

Somehow I didn’t laugh, and instead, instantly responded in a tone that proved your questions to be legitimate.

“That’s right, son. You eat food, not boogers.”

I realize that your version of the food pyramid is almost exclusively built on mac and cheese, beans and rice, bananas, pureed veggies, and raisins. But even at the very top of that pyramid, there is no space available for boogers, with a caption reading, “Use sparingly.”

So maybe you saw some friends at school picking their nose, then eating their findings. Then you thought it was weird but maybe somehow you thought it might be acceptable, so you figured you should ask Daddy.

Or maybe, with all the talk of finding Easter eggs this weekend, and your confusion on whether or not chickens eat the eggs they lay, which leads to more confusion on whether cows drink the milk they so willingly and graciously share with the human population instead of their own young, I could see how you might think that you also could produce your own food source from your body.

Not the case.

Son, I’m glad we had our talk in the car today. I always want you to feel like you can approach me with important questions like this.

While there may be other families out there who disagree with our lifestyle choices, our family is firm in our beliefs:

We’re not a booger eating family.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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The Dynamics of Jack And His Cousin Calla

Sunday, April 15th, 2012

16 months.

Jack is 7 months older than his cousin Calla; my sister’s daughter who was born last June. I think he’s still trying to figure out how to react to her.

Last weekend as we were visiting my family in Alabama during Easter, I paid special attention to the two of them. I tried to imagine what Jack was thinking:

“Is she a fellow toddler citizen? Not quite yet.

Is she a puppy? Maybe.

What am I supposed to do with her? She keeps staring at me.

Why does she keep touching me? Why does Daddy look upset every time I start to reach back at her?

This is weird, man.”

For me, as Jack’s dad, watching him try to socialize with his very feminine little cousin was kind of like hoping your dog doesn’t bite someone else’s smaller dog at a park.

Fortunately, I think he realizes that she is no threat. That became evident to me when we were hanging out in the storm shelter and Calla stuck her fingers up to the side of his eye, then plopped her leg up over his. He didn’t move; he just sat there, confused.

It was like in an Eighties’ sitcom where someone knows they’re about to get pie-faced but instead of moving out of the way, they just stand there and take it.

By the end of the weekend, I think Jack began to assume she really is a baby friend. They read a book together and then had a lot of fun out on the swings in the backyard.

As many pictures that have been taken of Jack in a swing, none of them have ever been featured on The Dadabase because Jack doesn’t look like he’s having any fun; just very stoic.

This is the exception. Jack’s cousin doesn’t walk or talk yet like he can, but she is able to show him how to have fun; even if she is a girl.

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