Every Stick Is Precious
Something I haven’t written down yet, and need to, because it has consumed my heart these last couple years and I didn’t find the time to write about it, kind of waiting to see where this would go.
Part of it is me realizing that this is probably how my parents looked at me, and I never realized it until now.
I read early on when he was born that one of the best things a father can do is be psychologically available to their kid. This struck me and made perfect sense to me. I was struggling constantly thinking about my projects and how I would want to be doing them, and how would I get the time to do them. But reading that flipped a switch, and also at this time in my life I realize how much a parent’s actions can affect their kid. The trauma that can be enacted. And I wanted to give him the best life possible, of course. So I made sure I gave him as much time, and to be present for it as I could. Just to sit on the floor with him and let him direct the play, and provide the resources he needs — art supplies, plastic animals, now electronic supplies for his own game console. And to support him emotionally, and to guide him, let his curiosity run wild without quashing him, provide for his health and education to keep him curious and learning.
And when I do this, and sit down with him and just watch his unbridled curiosity and the way he flits and dances from one thing to another, with joy and no care — I love it. I love it when every stick is precious and he wants me to save it for him, the ones he has found on our daily walks to school, and he expects me to have brought it home and added it to his collection. They are sometimes crappy sticks, not the pretty driftwood that I like, but a stick that is rotten and falling apart. Same with stones. I try to find the precious ones. He finds a piece of gravel or asphalt and to him it is the coolest thing. I learn from him.
He doesn’t stop asking questions and I never stop him. We look it up, often in books. I buy him a lot of books — fiction, kids almanacs and atlases — so we have books to look things up. Many nights we read Nintendo Fun Club News or Nintendo Power, the ones from when I was a kid, and he loves them and he loves to relive my childhood with me and knows how to relate the time periods of when a game was released. Sometimes he will have to compare facts to his Mario encyclopedia, the one he considers the source of truth, to make sure something is true. Sometimes he will use his Mario encyclopedia to find a tip for us to find a way past a level, as we are going through all the NES and SNES games that I played as a kid, without cheats or help, except for his Mario encyclopedia. It barely gives hints, but to him it works, and sometimes it does work.
He likes to wrestle with me and battle, especially on the bed, where I can flip him around and throw him down. He likes to tackle me and pretend he is a Mario or Zelda character and I am a different one and we each have special powers. He always ends up with more hitpoints and he ends up winning.
My favorite thing is when we are reading a sweet children’s story, and he leans his head on my chest and watches the pages and asks me to do each character in a different voice.
Right now he talks about wanting to be a dad and he wants me to be a grandpa to his kids. He is just 6 so he doesn’t really know what it all means, it is all just roleplay for him. He thinks he will live in this same house. Maybe he will. It breaks my heart because I am 45 years older than him so I don’t know if I will be around for his kids to remember me, but I tell him I will try. I do want to try.
He is already very sentimental. He saves everything. He is like me. With the stones and sticks, but even more. Any little thing he finds, he wants to save it, usually for his dioramas. If he catches us throwing something out that he wants to save, his bottom lip puffs out and the tears well up. I find these moments beautiful though, seeing his honest heart love everything around him and the potential in everything.
I have many more things like this but these are just a few.
Sleep Log
Went to bed a little before 10. Woke at 2:30 from a bad dream — I was on a huge bridge that fell into the river. Woke the moment it hit the water. Tried to go back to sleep but got up at 3, laid on the couch with Dan Carlin and headphones. Had to pee around 3 but don’t think that’s what woke me — didn’t feel it until after I was already up. Didn’t drink anything all evening. Didn’t get full sleep, tossed and turned until about 6:30.