Posts Tagged ‘ fedora ’

A Matching Father And Son White Fedoras Kind Of Day

Saturday, June 15th, 2013

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

Last Friday, like most uber masculine dads in America, I randomly felt compelled to wear my hot pink pants and white leather dress shoes to work.

And it should go without saying that you can’t be caught wearing hot pink Polo pants from the clearance rack at TJ Maxx without sporting an equally 1985-esque white fedora.

Well, one thing led to another, and sure enough, you wouldn’t let me leave the house that morning without running upstairs to grab your white fedora to match Daddy.

I should have known that when a father and son leave the house wearing matching white fedoras, something magical is bound to happen.

It has been our tradition that on Friday afternoons, I take a late lunch break, waiting until you’ve woken up from your nap, to pick you up from daycare and take you somewhere adventurous, like the nearby park.

However, this particular Friday, a guy in the office next to mine won some kind of contest where he had the Budweiser Clydesdales deliver him two cases of beer.

Interestingly enough, this happened right as it was time to pick you up. So instead of going to the park, I took you back to my office to see the giant horsies.

Granted, I had already changed out of my Miami Vice costume into my work-out clothes (a classy Smurfs t-shirt and an oversized pair of faded cargo shorts from 25 pounds ago) and in hindsight, I see that you may have been wearing your fedora backwards the whole time, but hey, we got our pictures made with the Clydesdales!

We even got the meet the Budweiser Dalmatian.

So lesson learned. Whenever your Daddy feels like being random and wearing hot pink pants and a white fedora, just roll with it.

Because something cool is surely about to happen…







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My Wool-Capped, Wagon-Riding Toddler

Tuesday, May 1st, 2012

17 months.

I’m assuming it’s pretty typical for infants and toddlers to not enjoy wearing hats.

My experience has always been that if I could sneak a picture of Jack wearing a hat, I was lucky. And then within a nanosecond later, he would always take the hat off his head.

Until this past weekend.

While Jill was at Publix buying groceries, I had put Jack down for his nap. When he awoke, he was ready for me to lead him on an adventure.

Once downstairs, he saw my new white fedora on the kitchen counter; pointing at it and grunting.

I placed it on his head and he liked it, but he seemed to acknowledge the hat was too big for him.

Curious by his sudden interest in a hat, I ran back upstairs with him to his room to pick through the half dozen caps in his top drawer that he has never wanted to wear before.

For some reason, he instantly fell in love with a striped wool cap with a blue puff ball on the top.

Back downstairs, he saw his Radio Flyer wagon and asked me, “Wah-wah?”

So I packed up Elmo, a book, and a water cup; somehow managing to pull the wagon through the front door with Jack in the wagon with those recently named belongings.

Keep in mind that last Sunday afternoon when this event took place, it was nearly 85 degrees outside. What was weird is that he barely sweated. Instead, his neckline was drenched in drool. (He has molars coming in right now.)

It’s hilarious to me that after insisting on wearing a wool cap while being pulled around the neighborhood in a wagon, the look on his face for the majority of the ride was not happy but, at best, stoic.

Granted, he didn’t want out of the wagon, nor did he want the hat off. In fact, a few times when the hat barely started to slip off, he communicated to me (in grunts) to straighten it up for him.

Once Jack stumbles into a routine, good luck on talking him out of it.

I imagine Jack used this road trip (though it was technically a sidewalk trip) to ponder his life thus far.

Perhaps that hat is his thinking cap? [Insert laugh tracks here.]

So much goes through a 17 month-old boy’s head when he finally gets a chance to just stop and think everything; while watching planes fly overhead on their descent to the Nashville airport.

In our neighborhood, there are over 200 townhouses.

People had to hear the wagon rolling in front of their house; looking out their window to see a man in a white fedora pulling a Radio Flyer wagon containing a seemingly dazed and confused little boy who was obviously willingly wearing a wool cap on a humid afternoon.

But since this is evidently one of Jack’s comforting new routines, I imagine soon, that the neighbors will simply say, “Oh, here comes that father and son wagon team again.”

Jack wore his hat for the rest of the afternoon until it was time for bed.


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