a proud dad

For a long time, I have placed a great deal of focus on my kids being smart and successful. I have wanted so badly for them to be extremely well educated, to lay the foundation for brilliant careers and incredible achievements. There's nothing wrong with this of course. Everyone wants the best for their kids. Everyone wants their kids to reach their full potential.

Over the last year, however, God has shown me that there is so much more to be proud of in my two sons than just how quickly they learn to read, how well their logic develops, how much musical promise they show.

My wife b recently posted a story about j, our 4.5-year-old, deciding that he wanted to give all the pennies in his piggy bank to help provide clean water to people in developing countries. He, of course, did not come up with that little idea on his own. He had plenty of help from mom. But she only told him about the problem and about how Jesus wants us to help people. He came up with the idea to donate all of vast wealth (about $.09, I believe) all by himself.

I think I am getting to the place where I would take a j who wants to do anything he can to help suffering people over a j who is incredibly smart and accomplished any day. Hopefully both will develop. But I want to start giving emphasis and focus to the former.

in defense of the daddy tax

This is a brief treatise in defense of a small, overlooked, but nonetheless important aspect of fatherhood: the daddy tax.

The daddy tax works like this: any treats that your kids get, you get a little piece first. Snow cones at the park? Dad gets a little bite of each one first. Milkshakes at Dairy Queen? The big guy gets a nice long sip before anyone else. A bag of delicious Skittles? You get the point.

I am thinking about the daddy tax because I just finished invoking it. I was giving o an Otter Pop (which is a very popular treat in our family), when I decided to take a little nibble off the top. O gave me a look that look could've won him a part in Oliver Twist.

I looked at the wee sweet lad and thought, "Oh son. All the toys. The Bob the Builder DVDs. The college tuition. All I have is the daddy tax."

The daddy tax is my way of saying, "I might be a weary, slightly disheveled, uncool working stiff, but I am still the head honcho around this joint, by gum."

So dads everywhere - when the going gets tough, when the diapers get stinky, when the tantrums gets loud - just remember that you have the daddy tax. Take that bite of brownie and be proud of it. And when they shoot you dirty looks, just say, "Be happy I didn't eat the whole thing."

proud father of a pirate

I had a very proud dad moment the other day. J, completely of his own volition, decided to make his very first pirate flag. The good old skull n' crossbones. The Jolly Roger. The plague of the Seven Seas. I am so happy I could bust.

J has a little plastic pirate ship and he decided to use the skull and crossbones on the sail as a template for his flag, pictured below. He then found a stick and asked me to help him tape the two together.

Shiver me timbers little buddy. For his next version I'll need to find him some black construction paper and some white paint.