Friday, May 24th, 2013
2 years, 6 months.
I recently took you by my office on a Saturday morning while Mommy was buying groceries.
After all, it seems a little weird that though your daycare is just on the other side of the red light, you’ve never really gotten to see what it’s like inside that brown brick building where Daddy works.
Once you saw my chair and computer, you knew just what to do… except for that darn “Ctrl+Alt+Del” screen.
It wasn’t long before you realized you wouldn’t have the opportunity to watch any monster trucks on YouTube, so you got bored and wanted to watch me fill a Styrofoam cup with water in the break room.
Then, you were ready to go. So we left. (Granted, it was nice having my co-workers comment on you being a handsome little boy.)
And that’s my story about what it was like taking my 2 and a half year-old to work.
While that random Saturday morning may have seemed uneventful at the time, it wasn’t. It served as a model for you to follow in your playtime.
This week you scooted your new Thomas the Train trike down the hall into the living room and declared, “I go to work!”
You parked your “monster truck” (Thomas the Train trike) near the closet, then stood up, trying to figure out what pretending to work is supposed to look like.
“Jack, what do you do at work?” I asked.
Your response, with a clever smile:
“I play with kitty cats!” You ran over to your favorite plush cat doll and lifted it above your head like Link finding one of the fragments of the Triforce, then announced, “I found one!”
So from what I understand, your job is not only to play with kitties, but more importantly, finding them like Easter Eggs.
I don’t think you quite understand yet what Mommy and I do all day at work. For all I know, I figure you assume it’s like a daycare for adults.
Well, actually… maybe in some ways it is.
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Tuesday, June 21st, 2011
What does your “art” tell about what you value?
While earning my English degree at Liberty University, I was taught in my “World History of Art” class that artists honor what they value through the subject matter of their work: If a caveman etched an outline of himself clubbing a stegosaurus to death, it meant that he prided himself in his abilities to provide dinner for his village.
This “art equals value” concept can apply to many different areas in our lives; even without it officially being art. One of the most obvious examples is my desk at work. I keep things pretty tidy; not a whole lot of decoration. But the little bit of flare I do have points to the same central theme: my wife and son.
My computer’s screen saver is a picture of my wife holding Jack, as is the background on my cell phone. My coffee mug is one that my wife customized for me on Shutterfly, featuring Jack. Sitting on my desk is a small framed family portrait. Hanging on my “food shelf” is a paper-clipped wallet size of Jack when he was just a week old. On my other shelf is a framed “Happy 30th Birthday, Daddy!” certificate made with Jack’s inked hands.
So in essence, everyday is “Take Your Kid to Work Day.” No matter which direction I am looking while at my desk, I see my son. And of course my wife as well. Because obviously, they are what I value the most; always on my mind and in my heart.
The three of us are sort of like our own trinity; all separate entities yet paradoxically one in the same. I will always be a part of my son and he will always be a part of me; you can’t get the son without getting the father and you can’t get the father without getting the son.
The same goes with my wife; neither Jack nor I are complete without her. We are one intertwined family unit.
Even when I am physically away from Jack and Jill during the day, it doesn’t change the closeness we share. And I guard that closeness with all my time, all my heart, all my soul, all my strength, and all my mind.
So that neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, not even Facebook nor cell phones ringing during dinner time, may separate us from the love we share. Our family bond goes beyond a marriage covenant and shared bloodline. It’s literally out of this world.
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Deep Thoughts, People, Spirituality, Story Bucket, Storytelling, The Dadabase