Tag Archives: daddy daughter date

Transcendence On the Way to Preschool

Claire

In life there are few moments of transcendence, or perhaps better said, there are few moments of transcendence that we recognize and commit to memory, and even fewer that are clear enough to shift our existential bearings and redefine our hopes.

When they do happen, they’re usually fleeting, they’re often mundane (given our inability to see the forest for the trees), and unless our emotions and spirit communicate, they’re usually glanced over so as to leave no trace of meaning.

For me the dark glass is lowered and transcendence is recognized almost always in the presence of my children, in particular aside my oldest daughter Claire (four years old). It happens simply, when undeterred joy emanates from my daughter and I feel partly to blame; when somehow my being her dad and being present in her life plays a role in it all.

It has happened at a pizza parlor as Claire watches her younger sister Maren do the funniest thing ever: refuse to keep her feet off the table. I’ve been wise enough to notice it as Claire is caught in a whirlwind of leaves, a recently raked pile behind her, the remnants of fall clinging to her hair and eyebrows.

Most recently it happened in the car, on the way to preschool. Claire and I have a tradition: We crank the volume up on the radio and act wild. We do this to get our crazies out—something both of us need to do before entering the real world where calmness and put-togetherness are most admired. A hit song from a few years ago comes on and we’re both dancing; we’re both unhinged. I look back and catch a glimpse of her, lost in the moment without concern. To make her laugh, I look forward and scream. I pretend the traffic cones on the side of the road are a brick wall and I’m about to hit them. I’m nowhere near them and I hit nothing but the explosion is real; it’s Claire in the back seat, head back, erupting with laughter; she’s like an infant guffawing for the first time at something that’s only funny in the beginning: a coo, a song, a bark, the tearing of paper, an older sister shaking her head inches away.

To see this innocent, explosive, in-the-moment elation was too much for me; I sobbed. I was happy. I was sad. I was nostalgic. I was worrying about the day she wouldn’t think a fake collision with traffic cones was funny anymore. I was in limbo.

I was no longer in the car. I was no longer on earth. I was outside looking in. I entered a realm that felt like home in a strange land. The meaning was clear and it was mine. And then I watched my Claire put on her backpack and walk toward school, a big girl.

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Crowded, dumpy Pizzeria, 12:30pm: This is Happiness

Claire, Pizza, Happiness  2

So much of the human experience is spent in the pursuit of happiness. People define/redefine happiness and then spend the rest of the time looking for it, as if it was a lost puppy they’re certain to recognize and love once it’s found.

Happiness has become a destination, an X at the end of a long, squiggly line that’s pressed between folded pages and tucked beneath an old pair of blue jeans on the top shelf of a storage closet—the best place to keep the best things that will be the best when they finally get used.

The things people do to be happy, the journeys taken, the experiences had, they are a means to an end. Happiness is the great if/then statement when it should be a fond feeling in the ever-present, ever-fleeting now.

For Me, Today was Different

Today, my wife and two daughters (Claire, four and Maren, five-months old) met me at work. We walked two and half blocks to a nearby pizzeria—my favorite in our little city. The Pie Hole is dumpy: it’s covered in flour, the walls are lined with empty PBR beer cans, the tables and chairs are rickety, the crowd is diverse and constantly coming and going, and the pizza is the best in town.

On Mondays, five dollars gets you two slices and a drink. We spent ten dollars, dusted some crumbs from a vacant table, found a third chair, and sat down to lunch. Maren was in my arms and wouldn’t stop pressing her legs against the edge of the table. I’d pull her back, her legs would drop, and she’d lift them right back up again and press them against the table. Claire, across from me, a mouth full of half-masticated pepperoni pizza, thought this was the funniest thing in the world.

I looked at my oldest daughter. I squeezed my youngest. I glanced at my beautiful wife. This was happiness. It didn’t matter what happened on the walk back to work. The next day, the next year was irrelevant; for in those few minutes, in the thick of a crowded, dumpy pizzeria… I was happy.

Claire and Pizza an Happiness 2

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Horse Trotting Through The Mall With Claire

Yesterday Rinda picked me up from work and we drove home together. It was nice. Instead of two hours on bus and train, it was only 50 minutes in car, and I was with my family.

Play Time

We didn’t go straight home, which was also nice. We went to the mall. Rinda went to West Elm to order a butter dish. Claire and I stayed outside to play. A creek runs through the middle of this mall and there are benches, chairs, and couches spread throughout, most on the banks of the small river. I don’t know why, but I told Claire that it would be so funny to run and sit on a chair.
We did. We ran. We giggled. We sat on a chair, very briefly, and then we ran to the next sitting spot. Claire thought this was the funniest, most fun thing in the world. And she was right. Running through this mall, pretending to be on a horse and trotting my way down the winding paths, my little girl at my heels or right in front of me, her crazy curly hair flying behind her, her small hand pointing to a chair in the distance and saying, “look dad, that one is sooo funny” is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. And I’m not exaggerating.

Looking Like A Fool 

Rinda loved seeing her grown-up husband horse trot through the mall giggling like a little kid too. Actually, she didnt’t care at all, because like me, she knows that looking like a fool in public is worth it if it makes your child happy. That being said, she probably could have done without my yelling, “hi ho silver” as I galloped about.

I love my family.

PS, the short dance parties we had in every store that was playing dancey music were also awesome.

We ended the night with Mexican food (see video below). What a day.

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I’m Creating A Ham

As a parent I’m interested in helping my child discover and develop talents and skills. Rather than force my own interests on her—her existing in the same space as me is influence enough—I do my best to notice and point out things she does well or shows interest in.

Dancing

For example, from a young age Claire has loved to dance, more so than most little ones. So I made a point to encourage her dancing. I took the time to compliment her on her moves—even if it was nothing more than an over excited head bob. Today, she still loves to dance, and I love to dance with her. Her focus and ability to remember the little moves I’ve taught her is quite impressive. Where there’s music, she’ll be the first and last person dancing. I love it when she says, “daddy, I wanna dance wit you.”

Hamming

But dancing is not all she loves or does well. She is also a ham. My two-year-old daughter is constantly doing and saying things that are hilarious. Trouble is, and true to our family heritage, she’s doing most of it intentionally, so she knows (or thinks) she’s funny. I’m partially to blame. I see humor as a very important talent—it helps us find joy, companionship (my wife certainly wasn’t smitten by my looks when we met), it’s fun!, it serves as a stress reliever and a coping mechanism… “I could go on forever baby” (name that movie reference).

So, if Claire is good at “being funny,” why not encourage her sense of humor. When she does something that cracks me up I honestly tell her, “that was funny Claire,” or “you’re funny,” and she knows and appreciates what I mean. She is now stopping me to say, “daddy, watch” right before she makes a funny face, body movement, or strange voice. She is being a comedian (I’m sure future school teachers are just going to LOVE me).

Vine Time With Daddy

Another thing she loves is “daddy time.” Every so often, when Rinda is busy or tired, I’ll take Claire out on a daddy-daughter date. This could be dinner, shopping, a simple walk around downtown, or just hanging out at home. She loves it. In fact, sometimes we’ll all be walking out the door and Claire will push Rinda back inside and say, “seeya in a bit mommy, I going with daddy.”

So, knowing that she loves being funny and doing stuff with Dad, I decided to start making short six second videos using Vine. Claire and I act and Rinda films and directs. Claire loves watching back the videos and repeating her lines. It’s really silly and really fun, and here is the evidence:

(Hover over the image and click the speaker icon in the top left corner for sound.)

Did you like the videos? We plan on making more, so keep an eye on the channel. Do you have fun activities you like to do with your child or family member (nephew, niece, etc.)? Tell me in the comments below or else… JK, but seriously, tell me.

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