The Joy of Letters

I wish joy filled every moment of Jessie’s life, but children, like their parents, must overcome difficulties. Two major challenges Jessie has faced in her young life come to mind. The first was when Jessie’s beloved dog, Ginger, died. Ginger was Jessie’s “sister” and wore as many outfits as Jessie’s Barbie dolls. Jessie didn’t just cry, she wailed.

The other time Jessie’s tears flowed faster than the tissues could keep up occurred when my wife, Mattie, and I broke the news that we were moving to a new state. Jessie knew this meant her relationship with her friends, the only friends she had ever known, would change. Of course, Mattie and I emphasized the positives of the move: a good career opportunity, closer to family (some readers might not see this as a positive), and a chance for Jessie to meet new friends. All Jessie cared about when we pulled the rug out from under her young life was that she would miss her current friends.

I understood, as I didn’t want to move either. Switching from a manual toothbrush to an electric one is too much of an adjustment for me. I’m not a big fan of change and, from experience, I knew a move was a major one – and a big headache.

Mattie and I tried to convince Jessie that she would eventually be happy. “You can write letters, text, and Instagram.” Even with that said, Jessie’s stuffed animals continued to collect her tears.

I’ve always heard, “Kids adjust to change much quicker than adults.” From what I’ve seen, this is true. The transition to a new state and school went well for Jessie, but I’ll let her share her thoughts.

Jessie, Age 12
I moved from Statesboro, Georgia, at the end of last summer. I have found out that it is easier than ever to contact your friends via text, email, or social media, but of all the forms of long-distance communication, receiving good old-fashioned letters is my favorite. I go to the mailbox every day excited to see if any of my pen pals wrote.

I also enjoy writing letters. I have a huge tub full of cards and stationery. I also enjoy thinking about the happiness receiving letters brings to others. I have saved all the letters I have received since I moved to Florida. They are special to me. I hope I have convinced you why it’s good to write letters as well as taking advantage of today’s technology. Now let’s get back to Dad.

Of course, a piece of paper, card, or electronic post isn’t the same as an in-person hug – or dog love, but I’ll choose mail over wail anytime. Though I like to get the mail when it arrives, I wait for Jessie until she gets home from school. My reward, other than not receiving bills earlier in the day, is to see Jessie running with a card in her outstretched arm. I can always tell when she receives a letter from one of her friends, not only because she waves it high in the air, but also from her big smile.

We live in a changing, challenged-filled world. It’s great when we have family and friends to share the good times as well as the not-so-good ones. I don’t write as many letters as I once did, but Jessie is right – there is joy in both sending and receiving cards and letters. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll write a letter to a friend or family member to say how much I like my electric toothbrush, though I doubt it.

But whether Jessie or I are sending letters or receiving them, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments. Happy Thanksgiving! If you can’t celebrate Thanksgiving with loved ones in person, a hand-written letter is a great way to express your love and thanks.

Dad Has Gone Crazy!

My daughter, Jessie, loves to try new things and when she does, she wants me to try them with her. I’ll admit change is not one of my strengths. As I get older, change gets even harder. I probably would have titled this column, “Dad and Change Don’t Always Get Along,” but instead rolled with my coauthor Jessie’s title suggestion.

Let’s get her side of the story before my rebuttal, which I’ll need for this one.

Jessie, Age 12
Dad has gone crazy! Recently, we purchased a two-pack of electric toothbrushes. I read the directions, and then began using my new toothbrush. I convinced Daddy to try his. I showed him how you use it, and he began. After about 3 seconds, Dad turned the power level down to the lowest it could go. Then he began mumbling, “I hate this. I hate this.” With the toothbrush in his mouth though, it sounded more like, “I ate is. I ate is.”

Momma also convinced him to try a Waterpik she had purchased. To put it simply, same reaction. It has been a little over a week since then, and he is still complaining he has a toothache. He says he got it because his ears heard a sound like a drill, and it wasn’t time for his quarterly dentist visit. Anyway, I have a crazy dad. Now let’s hear his side of the story.

Jessie’s narrative is accurate, except for the “crazy dad” part. My wife, Mattie, witnessed it, too. I can sum my thoughts up in ten words, Give me my manual toothbrush and pack of dental floss. I can take care of my teeth the old-fashioned way. Aside from the noise, I didn’t like the spinning brush scraping my gum lines.

Several weeks have passed since my bathroom drama, and I haven’t retried the electric toothbrush and Waterpik. Though I promised Jessie I would try it again one day, I didn’t say when.

Having two crowned molars, one of them that’s sensitive on occasion, my goal is to avoid root canals. Why stress out my tooth nerves (or my mental nerves) with a toothbrush that sounds like a drill, when I can care for my teeth quietly?

My Waterpik experience didn’t go any better than Jessie’s description of the oscillating toothbrush. Like the electric toothbrush, it made noise. Furthermore, I don’t need a stream of water with the pressure of a fire hose spewing into my mouth. Water sprayed everywhere, including the bathroom mirror. A busy dad shouldn’t have to clean the bathroom and put on a dry shirt as part of his oral hygiene routine. Okay, maybe there’s a learning curve and with experience I’d do better directing the water flow. Maybe someday I could come to like the Waterpik.

Crazy? I prefer to say, “Set in my ways.” With that said, I want to be a good role model for Jessie, so I must keep an open mind.

When Jessie doesn’t like the taste of a new food, her mom and I ask her to give it a second try. I should do the same with things Jessie asks me to try. I’ll give my electric toothbrush and Waterpik another chance … someday.

Until my tooth stops hurting, though, I’m content with my manual toothbrush and clean mint floss taking food particles away. But whether I’m caring for my teeth the old-fashioned way or with the aid of new gadgets, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments. Happy Halloween. After eating candy, brush your teeth well – with whatever toothbrush makes you happy.

The Dramatic Performance

Parenting is hard work.

One of the tough parts is that parents never know when the next pop quiz is coming – and there are lots of pop quizzes. Recently, I had the opportunity to take a “Nail File Pop Quiz.” It wasn’t one of my proudest parenting moments, and maybe I should have walked away, but instead I charged into the quiz. Looking back, I tried to earn bonus points by adding a dramatic performance. I’ll let Jessie share her side of the story first.

Jessie, Age 12
Dad said, “She’s been stepping over it like …”

Then Dad (badly) kicked his leg up high in the air pretending to step over an imaginary nail file.

First, I didn’t make a big deal out of it.

Second, I don’t know anyone who steps over a nail file while kicking their leg up to their hips. His knee was bent; he’s not really that flexible. It must have been a really large nail file.

Third, I may have been procrastinating picking it up, but I definitely wasn’t stepping over it for the fun of not picking it up as he reenacted for my mother and me. He portrayed me stepping over the nail file multiple times just for the fun of it.

So, let’s start from the beginning. A couple of days ago, I dropped my nail file on the floor in my bathroom and failed to pick it up. I figured I would do it later. Apparently, that was when Dad started his experiment. He waited until night, and then decided to give up and pick it up. He had it in his hand, but then decided, no. He ended up moving the nail file to the middle of the doorway. Apparently, I waited another day until I bent down to pet my dog, Sadie, at which time it was handy, so I picked it up. It was 11:01 at night, and Daddy yelled, “Finally!” That was when I found out, and well, you know the rest. Now back to Dad for his side of the story.


For two days, Jessie’s nail file greeted me each time I walked into her bathroom. I almost picked it up several times on Day One. As Jessie noted, I did pick it up at the end of the first day, but thought, No, this is a learning opportunity. It’s not my responsibility to pick up Jessie’s nail file. I placed the file about a foot inside the entrance to Jessie’s bathroom. Jessie couldn’t walk into her bathroom without stepping on or over it or kicking it.

So yes, when Jessie picked it up a minute after 11 p.m. on Day Two, Dad was primed for a discussion. Jessie calls them lectures.

I entertained Mattie and Jessie with my dramatic performance of a 6’5” father stepping over a nail file. Did I win an Oscar? No. Did I pull a hamstring with my high step? Thankfully not. Did Jessie grasp my point that when you drop something, pick it up in a timely manner? I’m confident she did.

Teaching is part of a parent’s job description. And though I’m immensely proud of my daughter and the hard work she puts forth most of the time, “Not yet, but soon” (a response to chores that’s a common joke in the family) wasn’t going to fly this time.

Upon reflection on Jessie’s perspective, though, maybe she had a valid point. Did she just teach me a lesson on good time management? She didn’t waste time bending over to pick up the nail file until she could multi-task. She did pick it up eventually and petting the dog made the chore more enjoyable. Dang these pop quizzes!

But whether Jessie is on the student end of the lesson or the teacher side (yes, parents can learn a lot from their kids), one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments.

A Balance in Life

“It’s all about a balance in life.”

My daughter, Jessie, has heard me say this often. We all face the daily challenge of finding that right balance between work and play – while incorporating a block of time for sleep.

Jessie has always excelled at getting the most out of her days. She stopped taking naps after age two. My wife, Mattie, and I now face a surprising challenge from her zest to maximize her days, one so simple, I can’t believe I’m writing about it.

“Jessie, please replace the toilet tissue when the roll runs out.” Jessie’s stated reason for her repeated failure to do this is, “It wastes time in my life that I’ll never get back.” She plops the new roll on top of the empty cardboard tube still on the holder, and lets Dad put the new roll on the spool. Apparently, time that Dad will never get back is more expendable.

Somehow, the girl who won’t take naps or replace the toilet tissue roll is about to enter 7th Grade. I’m confident Jessie will have a great school year; however, her packed schedule concerns me. Will she have a proper balance in her life? I’ll let her fill you in on her upcoming plans.

Jessie, Age 12

I am going to be juggling schoolwork, dance, clarinet, saxophone, and family the upcoming school year. I will have to learn how to save time where I can, while keeping up the grades, learning saxophone, keeping up with clarinet, spending time with family, and dancing. I am excited that I can have the opportunities to pursue many different outlets. I am very grateful that I get to skip a year of band and go into the highest band at my school. I’m also going to learn alto saxophone to play in the jazz band.

Dance is also a big part of my life. I will dance 3 or 4 days a week after school.

Next, I have schoolwork, homework, and studying. I will be in challenging classes at my school and need to make sure I keep up my grades.

Finally, it is important to spend quality time with my family. Now, back to Dad.

Jessie will keep busy indeed and will need to wisely manage her time among her various activities. Jessie forgot to mention that in addition to learning a new instrument, the alto saxophone, she will be taking her first pointe class. She’ll not only be squeezing a load of classes and activities into her daily schedule, but also squishing her feet into the box of tight-fitting pointe shoes and twirling around on her toes. Talk about working hard at balance.

I’m glad Jessie recognizes that she’ll need “to learn how to save time.” May I suggest quicker showers as a good starting point.

Mattie and I know, too, that our soon-to-be-teenager will spend more time with friends in the years ahead. How much time will she have left for her parents after school, dance, and music? Let’s hope Jessie remembers her last sentence, “It is important to spend quality time with my family.”

Like Jessie, Mattie and I need to focus on how we spend our time. Mattie keeps a hectic schedule with her work. I wear lots of hats, too, not only as a writer, but also as a stay-at-home dad and husband. Finding that right balance is a daily challenge. “Mattie, could I hire a personal assistant?”

But whether Jessie is spinning across the dance floor, playing one of her two instruments, or earning good grades, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me. I promise, too, that this stay-at-home dad, without a personal assistant, will make sure the house contains an adequate supply of toilet tissue. However, Jessie’s on her own when it comes to replacing the empty roll. I can’t waste any time in my life, either. Like she says, you can’t get it back.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments.

The Ferretastic 4th of July

As a writer and father, I sometimes wish I could change the ending to my real-life stories. “The tired dad found plenty of energy to keep up with his daughter.” “The worried dad relaxed as he knew his daughter would make good decisions.” “The quick-to-comment dad listened intently while his daughter shared her thoughts and feelings over a well-balanced dinner at the kitchen table.” “The formerly impatient dad transformed into an unflappable father … and his family lived happily ever after in perfect harmony.”

Conversely, sometimes the real-life story ends just right. No fiction writer could compose a more inspired ending, even if they toiled for hours trying. I’ve been blessed with many of these happy stories during the past twelve years as a stay-at-home dad to an awesome daughter and an outstanding wife.

The stories come and go, some repeat and others flash by only once. It’s up to me to make the most of them, hold on through the challenging ones, and try to learn from and appreciate them. Sometimes, I can find teachable moments as the stories unfold. I can even write entertaining stories about a few of them.

One of the great joys of watching a daughter mature is that she can start to write her own stories, both figuratively and literally. That’s been the case as my daughter, Jessie, plows through her tween years. Here’s one we wanted to share.

    Jessie, Age 12
    Yesterday was the 4th of July 2017! I sure had an exciting one! First, I went to a family party. I ate food, played with family, made slime with my cousin, and went swimming. That was an amazing time and helped to contribute to the 4th of July fun!

    Next, Daddy and I went for a walk to see fireworks. We live in an apartment in a pretty populated and popular part of town. We had fireworks blasting in the night sky from every direction!

    Finally, we went up the hill to the amphitheater lawn. You will never guess what we saw.

    Really, try! This was the highlight of my day!

    I saw, petted, and held a ferret on a leash! His name was Oliver, and he was 3 years old. It was really friendly and soft. It was also super clean! It was really fun to play with … even if it did pee on my shirt. Now, here’s Dad.

A happy story, one I wouldn’t change – except maybe the part where I had to pretreat the laundry for ferret urine.

As Jessie explained, we had an exciting July 4th with some favorite summer activities: eating, swimming, playing, and spending quality time with family. All that made for a good real-life dad story. Yet, I’d like to focus on the events after the family party that made the story even better.

When we arrived home, even though I had only watched the slime and didn’t exert energy in making it, as the author and protagonist father in our story, I was tired. Here’s where I could have inserted the happy ending, “The fatigued father grabbed a good book and pushed back his recliner. A broad smile came to his face as he reflected on the wonderful day with his family.”

However, the real-life story continued with Dad and daughter walking around the apartment complex and the adjacent park taking in fireworks displays from around the city. Exhausted? Yes. But with each booming firecracker, my energy level increased.

Then we reached the amphitheater lawn and met Oliver. Who would have thought Jessie’s “highlight of my day” would be a ferret on a leash that used her shirt as a bathroom?

Had I surrendered to my craving for a good book and comfortable chair, the story’s real-life ending wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable or memorable. I’m so glad I summoned the energy to take in the spectacular fireworks and unexpected ferret visit. This July 4th we didn’t just have a good Independence Day, we shared a ferretastic moment we’ll always remember.

But whether Jessie is petting a ferret on a leash or Dad is throwing a shirt into the washing machine, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments.

Different Standards

Jessie loves to travel, especially when the trip requires staying at a hotel. Her mom, Mattie, has taken us along on several of her work trips, which are often in tourist-friendly cities at excellent hotels. This works fine when Mattie’s employer reimburses her for travel expenses. However, Jessie has set her hotel standards at the level of these super-nice conference hotels and super-nice is expensive.

When I told Jessie that I was planning a two-city, daddy-daughter book tour, she turned from a 12-year-old, sixth-grade student to a seasoned travel agent right before my eyes. After racing for my phone, Jessie got right down to business, searching for the best deals. If I had been holding my smartphone, I’d be typing this column with less than a full complement of fingers. Let’s get Jessie’s thoughts on hotel accommodations.

    Jessie, Age 12
    Dad and I are planning a trip. I have been trying to convince him to book us at a nice hotel. I have shown him the prices for the different rooms. I enjoy fancy hotels and as an animal lover, I’m happy this hotel is pet friendly, as I hope to spot some dogs I can pet. I also like the complimentary breakfast and enjoy bringing orange juice, apple juice, fruit, oatmeal, or cereal back to our room for my much-needed SNACK!!! I hope I can convince Dad why this hotel is the correct choice for us!

When Jessie was young and all the other rooms at the hotel where Mattie needed to stay were sold out, Mattie once had to book a room in the “Club Level” with free drinks and snacks throughout the day in the “Club Lounge.” Since it was in a fun city, Jessie and I went along. That’s where Jessie learned the word “hors d’oeuvres.” Who would have guessed this would make her think that a “much-needed SNACK!!!” is an essential hotel amenity.

Now, let me point out that I also like nice hotels and stayed in a few of them when I traveled on business. Like Jessie, I have quality standards when selecting hotels, but my criteria are different than hers. Safety is of paramount importance. The room must also be clean and smoke-free. Last, but not least, I don’t want bugs of any variety sharing my bed or any part of my room. Unlike Jessie, I also have financial standards, and I won’t break the bank for a place to sleep.

We took our book tour road trip and had a wonderful time. Much to Jessie’s disappointment, however, we stayed at a hotel that cost $50 a night less than her preferred choice at our first stop. I don’t know if it allowed dogs – it didn’t matter as our dog stayed home with Mattie. Safe, clean, smoke- and bug-free, I found it satisfactory. The price mattered to me.

I pointed out the savings to Jessie, who also enjoys other activities that cost money. “That’s a lot of book sales, Jessie! You could take several saxophone lessons with that much money.”

Jessie understood the numbers. Still, when we arrived at the hotel, she was less than impressed with the room’s cleanliness and shared her inner critic with me – several times. She even took it upon herself to clean the entire hotel room upon our arrival. Not only did I save money, I found out Jessie has strong cleaning skills. This knowledge will come in handy when I remind her to clean her room and it doesn’t end up spotless.

At our second city, we spent two nights at a different hotel. This room, recently remodeled, met Jessie’s immediate approval without her lifting a finger. I witnessed a complete change in Jessie’s attitude.

Apparently, attitude – and an extra $30 per night – make a difference.

I look forward to future trips with Jessie. Breaking away from our daily routines and spending time together in a car and hotel bring out different conversations. We get to know each other better and to learn about other people and places, too. It doesn’t need to be super-expensive to be super-fun.

But whether Jessie is enjoying her much-needed snack at a quality hotel or at home cleaning her untidy room, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments. Happy Father’s Day! May we always provide our children with the highest standard of love.

Little Joy in Mealville

I take pride in tackling my stay-at-home dad responsibilities. I’m pretty good at them, too. Being good at something and enjoying the task, however, are two different things. For instance, dusting is my least-favorite household chore. I find this task more satisfying when a heavy coating of dust has accumulated. But sometimes I look at the dust-coated tennis trophies on my bookshelf and question, Why did I win so many?

With dusting at the top of my least-favorite list of household duties, preparing meals is a close second. Every single day, three times a day, breakfast, lunch, and supper time roll around.

Preparing meals is challenging on a number of fronts. First, I’m not the best of cooks. My wife, Mattie, still laughs at the time we were newlyweds when I decided to fry hamburgers for the first time. I used a rubber spatula meant to scrape cake batter to flip the burgers.

“Why is one-fifth of my spatula missing?” My investigation didn’t take long. White flecks of rubber dotted the burgers in my frying pan. Case closed. I don’t think too many cookbooks include photos of burgers topped with melted rubber snowflakes.

Since I’ve become the stay-at-home parent, I’m a much better cook, though I still wouldn’t brag. If practice makes perfect, I’m in need of a whole lot more.

Second, it’s not always a question of how to make something, but rather what to make each day, three times a day. There are only so many ways I know how to make chicken, and Mattie and Jessie aren’t red-meat eaters. Jessie must have heard I made hamburgers filled with white flecks of rubber. We can’t eat at restaurants all the time, either. I need money in the budget to buy Swiffer dusters.

Last, but not least, I want to serve healthy meals for my family. Healthy meals and a finicky tween don’t go well together. From day one, vegetables haven’t been Jessie’s best friend. I can understand her spitting out some of that stuff I tried to feed her from baby jars. Pureed green beans, blah. Pureed peas, yuck. Who knows, maybe that’s when I set the tone for Jessie’s lack of desire for vegetables.

Then, during her early school years, there was a time I think Jessie would have eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all 21 meals during the week if I had let her. She might have substituted a few helpings of macaroni and cheese for variety.

Now, during the tween years, it seems that Jessie’s menu has shrunk even more. She’s even tired of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Maybe it’s time I bring Jessie in with her thoughts.

    Jessie, Age 12
    I guess I am a bit of a picky eater. I don’t eat much meat or products with meat or gelatin in them. I am an animal lover and feel bad for the poor animals that died to make my food. I do eat a bit of chicken and rarely a marshmallow. Sorry chickens. I’m also a picky eater when it comes to veggies. I eat some of them, but others such as mushrooms aren’t my favorite. Lastly, I get tired of foods a lot. These things really restrict the things Dad can feed me, especially since he isn’t a professional cook. He only really started being the full-time cook since I was born. Basically, my diet consists of fruit, pasta, hard-boiled eggs, and anything with bread in it! Now, let’s get back to Dad.

After reading Jessie’s take, I’m reversing the order of my least-favorite household chores – cooking number one, dusting in second, and I’ll save the topic of ironing for another column.

But whether I’m spreading peanut butter on bread or pushing a dust cloth, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments. Happy Mother’s Day! I miss my mother’s delicious cooking – free of melted rubber.

Spare the Bug

“Daddy! Bug!”

Jessie often yells these words. Part of my job description as dad includes keeping a bug-free home. Although Jessie wants every bug removed, she is unwilling to execute the task herself, even for the tiniest bugs. When Jessie calls, Dad comes running with a tissue, paper towel, or sneaker. The task seems simple enough, but then comes Jessie’s next statement.

“Dad, don’t kill it!”

That’s right, I’m supposed to gently transport the trespassing bug out of the house and set it free in the great outdoors. In most cases, I’m quick enough to capture and remove the insect so Jessie can move on with her activities uninterrupted. Unfortunately for the bug, unless it’s a ladybug or a lightning bug, trespassers are prosecuted to the fullest extent. Ants, mosquitos, gnats, moths, flies, cockroaches, and other unidentifiable critters are squeezed with a tissue or paper towel, swatted with a flyswatter, or smashed with the bottom of my sneaker. Before I go any further, let’s bring in Jessie with her thoughts.

    Jessie, Age 12
    This column is about bugs. I feel that you should save the slimy creatures when you can, because if a giant was trying to step on you, you wouldn’t like it. They have a life just like you do, and you shouldn’t take it away. They have friends, a family, and a spouse, just like you. You don’t have to kill them to get them out of your house.

    A good tip is to take a cup and place it over the creepy crawler. Then slide a sheet of paper under the cup. Take the whole thing outside and release the bug. Now that is a good way to get a bug out of the house without killing it. Let’s get back to Dad.

I’m thankful Jessie has a compassionate heart. She’s right. I certainly wouldn’t want a giant to chase after me and squeeze me between his fingers or squash me with his big shoe. I’d like to think that at 6’5”, I’m a kind, compassionate “giant,” however, bugs can spread disease or leave itchy bite marks. They must go, never to return.

As defender of our house, I view my duty as protector of the family, so my wife, daughter, dog and I can sleep and not get bitten, crawled on, and whatever else bugs do. Don’t you hate it when a mosquito zooms into your ear and makes that miserable buzzing noise while you’re trying to sleep?

Many years ago, shortly after we moved to Florida, a bug nearly caused me to wreck. My wife, Mattie, and I were driving down the road soaking up the Gainesville sunshine when something flew through the open window. I glanced down and there, sitting on the seat between Mattie and me, was the biggest cockroach I had ever seen. In the South, they’re called “Palmetto bugs” and they are humongous. As calmly as I could, I pulled over to the shoulder and we were able to shoo the bug out of the vehicle.

The way I see it, a “giant” can’t please everyone. When you live in the South, no matter how many times you spray or clean the house, a cockroach will occasionally trespass. If Mattie sees it before Jessie, I’ll hear, “Pat! Cockroach, come quick!”

I’ll come running with paper towel in hand or sneaker on foot to address the problem. So, I view myself as a protector of my family, not a destroyer of bugs’ families, a position that disappoints my daughter.

Though I applaud Jessie’s compassionate spirit, I don’t see myself running after bugs with a cup and sheet of paper. Okay, to be honest, I have done this a few times. Dads want to look good in front of their children.

But whether I’m chasing a bug with a tissue, paper towel, or sneaker, or Jessie has a cup and sheet of paper in her hands, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments.

The Shower Star

“You don’t rush a Hempfing.” Growing up, my mom said this when she was frustrated with my father for moving slower than she wanted. My dad, a calm man, had his own pace, which often conflicted with my mom’s harried one. I’ve inherited a bit of my dad’s DNA, because although I wish I could crank out columns and publish books in record-setting style, the words move from my brain to my fingers at their own pace.

Jessie has her own pace, too. If I could accumulate all the time I’ve waited for her and put it to use, I might have several books published by now. Okay, maybe not books, but certainly an extra column or two. Parenting requires patience.

On the positive side, when Jessie begins to date, I’ll have lots of time to ask her friend questions and discuss his intentions, because Jessie won’t be ready. Then again, the thought of Dad grilling her date just might speed Jessie up.

Jessie’s slow pace is most evident when she showers. The scene in our household plays out something like this.

Jessie goes into the bathroom, shuts the door, and the sound of water pouring in the tub begins. It continues for 10 minutes or so and stops.

Sloshing sounds come from the tub.

Many minutes pass. The water comes on again and the sound of the shower starts.

The arm on the clock makes a full quarter turn. Dad knocks on the bathroom door.

“Jessie, it’s time to get out of the shower.”

“I’m almost done.”

Dad knocks again – 15 minutes later.

“Your mom and I would like some hot water, too.”

“I’m on my final rinse.”

Jessie stars in this daily repeat performance, so I’ll let her share her view from the other side of the bathroom door.

    Jessie, Age 10

    My mother, father, and I have always had a disagreement about the proper length of showers. My mother and father think that 15 minutes is fine. I disagree. First, I like about an hour to soak in the tub. Then I still take around 30 minutes in the shower. I get inspired by the water trickling over me. I make up songs and dance routines. I try songs already made up, with different voices. Some include southern, goofy, and prissy.

    Also, I can’t hear myself sing over the pitter patter of the water hitting the plastic bottom of the tub, so I just sing louder. My parents don’t like to hear loud screaming coming from the bathroom, so they shorten the length of my showers. I am silent when rushed. Now back to Dad.

It’s hard to get my girl to care about the water and electric bill, and I’m amazed our hot water heater hasn’t worn out. I’m not shocked, though, that little hot water is available for me if I jump into the shower after Jessie has finished hers. So yes, I’ve tried to get her to pick up the pace. Like my mom trying to speed up my dad, it hasn’t done much good.

Since Jessie brought it up, I must discuss her “song and dance routines.” Writing takes focus, and during Jessie’s showers, I hear a lot more than the pitter patter of our water bill going up. Our little “shower star” doesn’t shower quietly … or carefully. Her dance routines sometimes involve jumps and spins landing with loud bangs, which we’ve discouraged on grounds that a slippery shower is not the best surface for leaps and turns.

Often, Jessie’s mom or I have asked Jessie to “tone it down.” However, there are more times when we glance at each other and smile or laugh during Jessie’s shower performances. She’s always been artistic. We certainly don’t want to drain her spirits, silence her joyful voice, or stop her from expressing the dance in her heart. We are blessed. Our daughter is healthy and happy – and clean. She has taught us that inspiration can’t be rushed.

But no matter how expensive the water bill gets or how noisy my work environment becomes, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments.

Choice of Words

My 10-year-old daughter, Jessie, doesn’t seem to understand the simplest of phrases. She is a strong reader and a good writer, so she obviously has command of the English language. That’s why I’m baffled by her inability to comprehend clear sentences such as:

“Jessie, make your bed.”

“Clean up your room, Jessie”

“You have 10 minutes to get ready before it’s time to leave.”

Doesn’t Jessie understand the language I speak? Of course, she does, and I’m sure I’m not the only parent who utters the above requests – often.

But I wonder, why is it that my words don’t have the intended effect?

During a recent game of basketball in the driveway, I used the word “B-ball.” Jessie’s eyes squinted like someone had just scratched a chalkboard with their fingernails.


Apparently, there are times when the words from my mouth don’t settle well on Jessie’s ears. I asked her to share her impression of my language for this column. Here are her thoughts.

    Jessie, Age 10
    I love my dad a lot, but sometimes it can be kind of annoying when he says things like “B-ball” instead of basketball. It’s a little bit embarrassing, too. Plus, isn’t “B-ball” 15th century?

    Another thing he says is, “She was just my little baby, now she’s 10!” He has a point, but it’s still embarrassing. I do it, too. I do it to our dog, Sadie. She is still my little baby. Haven’t we all felt the sadness and joy of “She was just my little baby?” Now let’s get back to Daddy.

Wow! I’m caught off guard by Jessie’s comments that my vocabulary is “kind of annoying” and “a little bit embarrassing.” I know I’m an older dad, but “15th century”? I’ve thought about confining her in the “dungeon” of her messy room until she managed to clean it, but I never stated it.

Perhaps I could say, “Oh, tween daughter, when your clothes disembark from your body, please have them make their way to the hamper in an orderly fashion to await their date with our high-efficiency, front-loaded washing machine.” Is that 21st century language?

Or as I stand by the door awaiting the pleasure of Jessie’s company on the drive to her school, I could inquire, “Wherefore art thou, daughter?” Now I’m talking 15th century.

My attempt at humor would likely not impress Jessie. Yet, on a serious note, I don’t want to have a communication gap with my daughter, and I certainly don’t want my language to embarrass her, especially in front of her friends. So, I’m thankful Jessie expressed her true thoughts. I want her to share her feelings with her mom and me in a respectful tone. Keeping an open path of communication between us will only grow more important over the coming years.

The key point I learned from Jessie’s comments is that my choice of words matters. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how I express myself and if there are ways I can do it better. I like to be funny and make people laugh. Perhaps I go too far sometimes, talk too much, or even repeat requests (clean your room) or thoughts (She was just my little baby) too many times. And I know that when I’m stressed, I transmit it to others by talking too much and too fast. So, I’m going to try to be more intentional with my language, though I realize that every word, phrase, or sentence I speak will not please everyone.

I’m reminded of the time I concluded a column with “I kissed my sleeping angel on the forehead.”

“Dad, I don’t like sleeping angel.” My mouth dropped. What’s wrong with sleeping angel? It’s hard for a dad to keep up with the sensibilities of a young daughter, even if he tries. At least, I didn’t say “princess.”

But whether my words are 15th or 21st century, one thing is certain ’tween daughter and dad, I love my girl and my girl loves me.

Until next month, remember to cherish the moments. Happy Valentine’s Day! Share kind words with loved ones and make them feel special. “I love you” is a phrase that can’t be repeated too many times … even to your dog who was just a puppy.