My dad keeps up with the blog, so I figured I’d make a post to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. I didn’t see him today, since he’s in Maryland and I’m in Boston, but he’ll be coming out to Las Vegas for the WSOP as he has for the last two years. After my first day (1C), we’re going to Bryce Canyon for two nights before I (hopefully) play Day 2B. Happy Father’s Day, dad.
On the same theme, here’s a great story about being a father from 2+2 poster “Marlow”:
In the months leading up the birth of my daughter, just about everyone who had the chance told me that my life was going to change. Of course they were right, but it’s interesting that no one ever asserted that I was going to change. Beyond the impact my daughter has had on my sleep schedule, ability to play cards, drink, watch football, and travel – the greatest changes have all been to my personality and outlook. Before, I was a walking existential crisis. So much of my life was devoted to exploring my place in the world, and what the whole “meaning of life” is. But after she arrived, I stopped asking these questions. I’m no longer tortured by all of that. I’m satisfied. I can’t say that I know definitively what the meaning of life is, but my need to ask the question of myself and the world has ceased completely.
Anyway, I have a story I’d like to share. Yesterday my daughter turned 3. In addition to the books, toys, and other presents that we’ve given her, we also let her choose where we ate dinner. She decided on ice cream first, then miso soup and sushi at the Japanese restaurant next door. She loves this place because not only does she love the food, but they have a small pond with dozens of koi fish in the middle of the room. She can walk right up to the pond and peer over the side to watch the fish swim up to her in the hope that they’ll be fed. For a 3 year-old, this is the best. As an added bonus, she usually meets and plays with other kids who are there, too. So last night she’s there looking at and talking to the fish when three older (probably 5 years old) boys came over to the pond and start to blow on the fish as they swim by. Clearly the fish did not like this. When they were blown on, they’d quickly swim off. The boys, being boys, were delighted that they were able to agitate these creatures. My daughter watched this for a minute or so, and I could almost see her thought process: “They are older, so should I do this too? The fish don’t like this, though – and I like the fish. I don’t know what to do.” But then she made her decision for the welfare of the fish. So she marched over to these three kids who were significantly bigger than she was and started saying “don’t blow on those fish!” over and over. They paid no attention, and after a few minutes, she came back to me exasperated. I suggested that she ask more politely. Of course, I knew that this would have no effect on them, but I wanted her to keep trying, to keep doing what she thought was the right thing. I didn’t want to step in and teach her that justice only happens when you turn to an authority figure. I wanted her to feel as though she could do something for a cause that was important to her. To her credit, she started to ask politely. Then they started laughing and mocking her. This only spurred her on. She was getting angry, and started slapping her knees and shouting “stop, stop, stop, blowing on those fishies!!” again and again.
At this point I’m practically in tears I’m so happy. She is demonstrating empathy for the fish. She’s standing up for what she believes in, even though the boys must have been very intimidating to her, and she did not resort to violence when she became frustrated. Eventually, one of the boys started clapping aggressively close to her, and I had to step in to protect her and scold him. The kid’s father then materialized and ushered him away. The episode ended, but my wife and I praised her for the rest of the night.
But this was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I was and still am bursting with pride. To me, this is what parenthood and life is all about.