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Remember, context is king

Sometimes, it is difficult to remember how well you really have it when things are seemingly going wrong.  Just today, I found out that a co-worker of mine may not be with us for much longer.  I cannot imagine how this person must feel, knowing that, in a matter of months, they may not be here. 

So, when I heard that my nine year old was having a difficult day, I thought-initially-boy, he doesn’t know how great his life really is.

That thought, though, only lasted a few moment…until I heard him on the phone. See, while Preston is not eaten up with cancer, in his mind, at that moment, he may as well be.  In my talks with him, and from reading the blog posts of others who are also ‘on the spectrum’, they describe the same thing: the world is, basically, ending for them.

With Preston, getting him calm is paramount and THEN finding out what put him over the edge. It is a delicate and very fine line and, once in a while, we break it and things can get much worse before it gets better.

Today seems to be a little different.  I wasn’t home to help him cope and couldn’t really handle it on the phone, so he did the best he could.

When I got home, he was fine. The house was in one piece and his brother was still kicking.  All in all, a great outcome.

In talking with him about his bad day, I realized that it isn’t just what happens in the same day, but it could also be from the previous day.  Last night, we had Stevi B’s pizza, Sweet Frog and a short cooling down period before bedtime. A lot was crammed into one evening. He also has not had his ‘daddy time’ as he was sick during the time his father would normally have picked him up.

It is the little things like can add up to a major event and sometimes we forget that. 

And, context is key.  Something I need to keep in mind.  Here I was, Concerned and upset over my co-worker’s condition, dismissing what my step son was going through. But, in Preston’s mind, he may as well have been that co-worker.

While I am glad it was good out come for a melt down day, I am heartbroken over my friend..

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Lookout Dollywood!

I am lucky to have a family who shares at least one of my passions: theme 20171002_121905parks. Since I can remember, I have LOVED the thrill of the rollercoaster. ANY rollercoaster.  Along with that, I have a fondness for amusement parks and theme parks (there is a difference.)  I remember the old Ocean View Amusement park in Norfolk, Virginia. I grew up going to Kings Dominion and Busch Gardens in Williamsburg. I recall going to a now forgotten theme park called Storybook Land, though there were no rollercoasters there, much to my dismay.  Along the way, I married and had a child…Chase. Chase shares my love of the thrill ride and, as he grew, we began to venture outside of our confines and went to places we had not gone…Carowinds in Charlotte, NC and Six Flags America in Maryland.  There were small amusement parks in or near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Included in them is the now defunct Hard Rock Park.

When I remarried, I gained another enthusiast.  Actually, I gained two…her son also likes the thrill ride.  And, now, we have a four year old who also loves the parks, but…his love of thrill rides has yet to develop. I am sure it will, though. 

Over the last couple of years, Chase and I have gone to parks in Pennsylvania and Ohio.  One park, though, to our west, had remained elusive: Dollywood in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

An opportunity arose, recently, that would bring us to within a 45 minute drive of that park, so…we spent a day at Dollywood, though, ironically, Chase was not able to be with us.  We did, however, have a great time there.  We rode all but one of the rollercoasters and the kids did many of the ‘flat’, non coaster rides.

The kids LOVED it.

Which is both interesting and amazing. 

See, one of the kids, Preston, is autistic and the four year old has sensory issues.  While Xander eschews the rollercoasters, he loved the spinning rides. Interesting as he hates wind in his face. With the associated noise, light, crowd and wind, the amusement parks can be overwhelming. Even for neurotypical people, parks can be a bit too much.  Neither child had a significant problem, though, by the end of the day, they were done.

Preston rode several rollercoasters, each of which present sensory issues, yet, he rode them like a boss.  I think that without certain influences and the lack of a real crowd at the park, he was able to  soldier on and not let it get to him.

The key was the lack of a crowd.  Preston is easily distract and, thus, without the crowd, he focused on having fun.  Likewise, Xander was able  to cope as he, too, had few influences.20171003_123154

The long drive back to the Richmond area was a real challenge as we picked up a Dachsund puppy-the real point to the trip-who was worse than either child. He is adorable, so all is forgiven. The kids? Awesome.

Aside from Chase not being with us, it was a fantastic trip.

Seeing Dolly would have been the icing on the cake.

Maybe next time.

Parenting is tough

I have been a parent for twenty years. In all of those years, I have experienced a few times when it really, truly sucked.  The first time, Chase was in the hospital because he was not breathing well.  All kinds of scary words were bandied about by the doctors. Ultimately, is was an asthma attack, and he was fine. It was, up to that point, the most scared I ever felt. 

The second time, I had to tell Chase he was going to lose his mother.  That was an awful day and one I do not wish on any one. Watching your mate of nearly twenty years die is bad enough, telling your twelve year old is even worse.

While the third time isn’t quite the same, it was equally painful. That was the day Chase moved out and on his own.  While Preston and Xander still live us, and will for a few more years, having my first born move out was painful.  I never really thought it would be quite that bad, but, it was.  Don’t get me wrong, I am very proud of him and am happy he can survive on his own. He is doing quite well. 

Even though he is a fine, 20 year old young man, Chase is still my little boy, and always will be.  He has been a rock for myself, indeed, our whole family.  We did quite a bit together, went to a NASCAR race (he hates them, that’s his biggest flaw), been on numerous trips together and, best of all, he shares my love of thrill rides and amusement parks. 

That love of amusement parks, the thrill rides and games have served as a bonding mechanism.  We can have fun doing other things, but nothing has compared to the trips we have taken to amusement parks.

The last two years we have made the trip from Richmond to Ohio, Pennsylvania and North Carolina just to ride rollercoasters.  But, honestly, it wasn’t so much the destinations, for me, but the journey getting there.  We talked, shared things we had not shared in the past and just enjoyed the drives. 

Recently, I went to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee with my family.  We all went…my wife, in-laws, Xander and Preston.  Chase, however, was unable to go.  This was the first time I went to a new to us park without him.  While I had aa great time with my family, there was something missing.  Seeing the joy and sense of wonder in Preston and Xander was awesome and reminded me of the same thing I saw in Chase–and still do–when he was a child.  The trip, though, just wasn’t the same.  And, that is something I need to get used to…going places without him.  He has his own life and will be doing things without us.  He still wants to do things with me, and that is just awesome. I will cherish those time as much as I do all of the years worth up to now. And, I have two more children to do so with, and that, too, is awesome.

I guess I should be happy with all of the memories, but, I am a selfish son of a bitch and don’t want to let go.  But, as with everything, I guess I have to…so, I guess that is the fourth time.

Man, this growing up thing is hard.

Wonky LED’s and an amazing brain

My wife is home schooling Preston, as the local school system could not really cope with his unique needs and abilities.  Children who are on ‘the spectrum’ are not like neurotypical children.  In Preston’s case, he not only is bright, but gets bored and pays attention to things that most people would not, like the order of books on a shelf or a sign that should not be up. Things like that. So, because his needs were not being sufficiently handled by the school system-and, don’t get me wrong, Hanover Schools are excellent, for most.  I have nothing against this school system or even Preston’s former school–they just are not equipped or staffed to handle one, let alone many-which they claim they do.

Anyway, as part of Preston’s home school curriculum, I am teaching him programming and how computers work.

To my delight, he has a knack for the programming part. I think he will for the hardware as well, though his mind wanders a great deal when I am teaching him about the hardware.  A good programmer should know the basics of how the computer works.

Along those lines, I dug up a small computer (one with very little capabilities called an ‘Arduino’, they are used for controlling things) and an old laptop and we made two LED’s blink in varying patterns and duration.  While he got a bit bored while I was setting it up, he got very excited when we made the LED’s do things. 

That was fun, but it also showed me a bit about his very anal attention:  those LED’s HAD to blink at precise intervals.  He could not cope with random intervals of on or off. He also did not like the brightness. I explained that, while we can control the brightness, we were not doing so then, that was for another lesson.  He, reluctantly, went along with that, but those LED’s blinking differently, he could not take that.  So, we changed the program so they would blink at a constant rate. I had him tell me how to do that.  With only a few lessons, he was able to do that. 

Of course, by that point, our four year old was interested and, he too, wanted to make the LED’s blink.  Preston and I changed the code so that you could type a number and make the LED’s blink at that rate.  Xander was just as excited as Preston.

It is amazing how Preston reasons things and how well he remembers. This was the first lesson in a couple of weeks and he remembered the last things we did–I did a verbal quiz and he was 100% correct. 

HIs tendency to be so anal, though, can be a slippery slope.  We will work through the rough spots, but I think he will be able to use it as a strength.  In this case, the randomness of the blinking LED’s  made him a bit nuts, but he worked through that and came up with a solution.

Of course, the notion that a dollar’s worth of parts would provide he and Xander with so much fun is, itself, amazing. Like his brain. 

I love that kid.

The Nightly Talk

As a parent to a child who has been deemed to be ‘on the spectrum’, things could get a bit tense at times.  Those ‘times’ are much less frequent they used to be and we are better equipped to handle them than we were just a couple of years ago. While labels are often hurtful or carry a ton of baggage, Autistic doesn’t have to be such a label.

My step son is proud of himself and he should be.  He is quite the accomplished young man, at the ripe old age of nine.  Indeed, he knows more, about many things, than many ‘normal’ adults I know. This can be as much of a problem as it is a plus.  The problem is that (and this is something I think most people in general all share) he honestly believes he is right and it can quite a shock when he realizes he was wrong.

One such incident led to what is now a nightly occurrence for us: nightly talks for us. On the night in question, Preston was already out of sorts. He had had a long, busy day and his wonderful brain was in overdrive. We were discussing something and he told me something that was not right.  So I explained that he misunderstood and, well, it was meltdown city. 

Fortunately, I had gotten to know how to deal with him and was able to calm him down. I sat with him for about an hour, talking about funny things we had done and assured him that I was not upset with him and that we all loved him very much.  He thanked me and told me that the talk helped him calm down.  He gave me a big hug and went right to sleep.

The next night, was easier.  He had a busy day, and, this time, when said something that wasn’t quite right, I said ‘well, I’m not sure about that, but will check it out and we will talk about it tomorrow.’  He then asked me to talk to him for a few minutes, that it might help him to calm down.  Sure enough, it did.  This was many months ago, I’ve lost track of when we started, but it has been a while.

Funny thing happened, though.  I got to know him a bit better.  We often have these really deep or very high level discussions about things as varied as cars to black holes in space. He loves space, science and pretty much anything technical.  Did I mention he is only nine years old (as of this writing)?  I also realized that this kid, who is not my biological child, is very much like me.  We share a lot of common interests and also have many of the same mannerisms.  I also realized that he is very much a nine year old BOY.  And, as a boy, he finds ‘boy things’ funny. Like burps, farts and other bodily sounds.  Yes, I know girls do too, so don’t get wonky on me.

As he is only nine and does ‘boy things’, we must keep that in mind when he acts up.  How much of it is being a kid and how much is because of the way he is wired.  It is a fine line, to be sure.  Sometimes, we get it right, sometimes we don’t.

This is as much an education for him as it is for us.  He lets us know, most of the time, what his mind is doing.  And…likewise, he uses that to his advantage. He is, after all, a very intelligent kid.

Back to the nightly talks.

Well, before we get back to Preston, let me share another side effect: my youngest son also wants me to talk to him at bedtime as well.  So, I talk a few minutes with him-usually about when I ‘was a kid.’  He loves it, but not every night.  That’s OK, I spend a lot of time on the weekends with him.  We talk a lot.

These talks, often times lasting thirty minutes or more, have become something I look forward to, even when I have something else I need or want to do. I miss them on the weekend as Preston spends that time with father.

I always start them out by asking how his day was.  Even though I often get the same answer, that’s OK.  I’d rather him repeat himself than not tell me anything. I also want him to know that I am, in fact, interested in what he does.  He is beginning to open up more and more.  I also have a couple of things I repeat every time, including a fake misunderstanding of Spongebob Squarepants.  I integrate that into a seemingly unconnected conversation…

“So, I saw this car today with a cute little bumper sticker. It was this yellow, boxy thing with pants and holes” He will look at me, smile and shout “SPONGEBOB!” to which I reply “oh, you’ve seen it!?”  It gets him smiling and makes him a bit more responsive. But, I think it is time to retire it and move on to something else. He got irritated with it the last time I did it.  He asked ‘why do you DO THAT!?’  I blame it on being old. It made him giggle.

Sometimes, though, I forget who I am talking to and say something that upsets him, like talking about sickness or something that has happened in the world. This usually begins with him asking about something related.  I can tell when he is starting to get upset and I quickly change the subject.  But…unfortunately, by that point, he is processing what was said. He may not mention it the next day or for days, but he will bring it up again.  Sometimes, he tries to rationalize it himself.  He does a great job with that, sound reasoning and conclusion…even when it is not right.

He looks at things very differently than I do.  It is refreshing and, to be honest, I would not have him any other way.  I hate what his mind goes through during a meltdown or when he begins to get upset, but, still, he is who he is because of the way he is wired and that’s what is important to remember.  I love that kid.

The Extended Family

Last night, Preston was having a bit of a difficult time. He had a concussion in November and is still suffering from the ill effects of the injury. He was a little upset that the weekend was over and he wanted to spend more time with his father. I may be step Dad, and treat him like my own, but I’m not DAD. I explained to him that I knew exactly how he felt. He gave me a funny look as if to say ‘yeah, how would you?’ I told him how lucky he was, he had two Mom’s and two Dad’s who love him very much. When I was growing up, I didn’t know my ‘birth’ mother or my Dad. I had spent some time with them, but didn’t really know either. The lady I called MOM, adopted me when I was his age. I told him that I didn’t really get spend any time with my Dad until eight or nine but got to really know him when I was a teen. I told him it was OK to feel the way he did and never be afraid to talk to me about it. He gave me the biggest hug, like a burden had been lifted. He asked me a few more questions about my childhood, which I answered. I reassured him that his Dad was welcome to drop by anytime he could to spend time with Preston. It also made me think about ‘FAMILY’.
They say blood is thicker than water, which may be true, but FAMILY trumps it all. And, in my book, there doesn’t have to be any blood relation to make a FAMILY. Yesterday was my SISTER’s birthday. We are not related by blood and, it seems, we don’t even share the same mother…but, that is OK. I grew up knowing who my family was, just as I want Preston to know his. Mike has been part of my family for six years now and it does not matter, to me, how that came to be. He, too, is part of my family.
Ann, the sister who had the birthday yesterday, and her late husband, treated me like a king when I was little. I remained very close to them until they moved to New York. I always had a problem with that, but, I really do not know why. They moved to be closer to their son and grandchildren. As that happened after the deaths of my Mom, my Dad and my first wife, it kind of felt like I was being left alone. That scared me. I don’t know why, as I still had a big family right here at home. My son, my then girlfriend (whom I married a short time later) and the rest of my family-which, just seemed invisible.  Ann and I grew apart, but not very much. The death of her husband had a big impact on me, he was, after all, like a Dad to me for most of my life. And, even though I don’t talk to her as much, I still love her and nothing will ever change that. I have three other sisters too…Mary, which Mom also adopted; Katy, who is my blood sister (meaning we are actually, biologically, related-have the same parents) and Rose. I could write a book about this.
Each one of those three ladies are awesome in their own ways and, as a result, I feel like I am a better man because of things I learned from them.
Mary was always unapologetic and adventurous. She showed me that following the rules was not always the best thing to do…I know how that sounds, but, she was right.  She’s had some rough times, but got through them and is now a fine lady, content with the way things turned out. Even now, when things don’t always go the way they should, she maintains that same attitude. It is a quality I wish I had.
Katy is my more liberal minded sister.  Polar opposite of me, more like the way my Dad thought.  She is very much like him, her sense of humor, the way she looks at things and the way she just accepts people. Well, OK, my Dad was not quite as accepting of a lot of people.  I didn’t grow up with her, we saw very little of each other as the ‘social workers’ in Chesterfield did their best to keep us apart.  We keep in touch now and I’m very glad we do.
Rose was a foster child Mom had for several years.  When she was released from the foster care system, she chose to stay with us. Rose has a physical disability–cerebral palsy–that left her not quite as mobile as most are.  She complemented the rest of my expanding family, only moving out on her own when she was in her late twenties.  Over the years, we’ve drifted apart and I do regret that.  It is one thing I need to work on. It isn’t because of an argument or anything like that. For the longest time, I convinced myself it was the distance-she lives in another state with what is left of her family. Distance, though, is a cop out. I just need to do it.
Suffice it to say, that there is actually very little ‘blood’ in my family and that’s OK.
That brings me back to Preston.  The difficulties of just trying to cope with the big world and Autism is hard enough.  Having your life change so much and in such a short time is overwhelming.  When he started to melt down last night, I though ‘oh my lord, what did I say this time’, but, this time, I think he was just looking for some comfort, even though it took a bit of effort to get him to open up.  And, he isn’t one to just blurt out what his problem or problem really is.  You have to piece it together.  That’s tough to do.
Little dude is having a difficult time dealing with his now bigger family. The two small one’s, Sam and Xander, bug him. He has to share a room with Sam when he goes to his Dad’s house and, soon, will be sharing a room here, with Xander. Sam is step brother (and cute as a button) and Xander is half-brother. Both are just annoyances to him. I suspect, in a few years, that will change. He still sees Xander as a bother, but warms up to him when he thinks it is necessary and plays with him, from time to time, without being prompted to do so. He still thinks that both are out to kill him, even though they are just playing.  In Preston’s view, there’s little difference between play and non-play action. It is something he is trying to learn.  He’ll figure it out. He’s one smart kid.
He also thinks he doesn’t get much time with Dad.  He’s right, he doesn’t.  That’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just the way things are…it’s not always fair. However, having said that, it isn’t quite the lack of time that Preston perceives it to be.  Dad picks him up Friday afternoon and brings him back, early evening, on Sunday’s.  Once in a while, that doesn’t happen for various reasons…vacation, work, illness, etc.  It isn’t because Dad doesn’t want him or we don’t want Dad to get him. Those are infrequent.  Not to Preston, though. One of the Autism traits he exhibits is perception distortion. That is, two days to him is more like two hours.  This past weekend, Dad picked him up for physical therapy and then took him home. He came back a bit early for a birthday party that he had been invited. Now, we are only talking a couple of hours difference from the norm, but, for Preston, it was like a day. Add in the time that Dad spends with Dad’s new family and Preston feels like he doesn’t get enough Dad time.  And, try as I may, I’m not Dad. Nor am I going to pretend to be. I will treat him like mine, but never try to replace Dad.  And, that’s the way it needs to be.  I think Preston has accepted me as ‘dad 2’ and, in this case, I’m happy to be number 2.
We are all working with Preston to not look at his brothers as anything but brothers.  Preston has fully accepted Chase as big brother and Chase loves him the same way. They get along great. He also seems to have accepted his new sister–also older than him. It is just the young ones he has a problem with…they are, after all, trying to ‘kill’ him, you know, when they are not playing with him. He has yet to realize the support system he has or how big his family has become.
In time, though, I hope he will come to appreciate his expanded family as I have mine.

A Missed Opportunity with my Dad

I’m going to share a father-son story, only, this time, I was the son.

For my entire life, I have always loved science fiction and, especially, Star Trek. And, as of the date of this post, that show is fifty years old and, today, September 8, 2016, is exactly the fiftieth anniversary of its first airing on the NBC television network. Even the day is the same…Thursday.

Well, I’m not old enough to have watched it in its first run, so I watched it on the local TV stations that aired it in syndication in the early 1970’s.  I watched intently.  I always imagined myself as Captain Kirk and went around with my ‘Star Trek Utility Belt’ and battled Klingons and Romulans, well, mostly Klingons…they were the cool enemy.

As I got older, my dad felt the character of Harcourt Fenton Mudd was more appropriate for me and he called me Mudd.  I didn’t care, I liked Harry Mudd and was ecstatic that the character was in three episodes (two in the original show and one animated episode…and, to my delight, he makes a cameo in a Deep Space Nine episode that incorporated The Trouble with Tribbles.) So, throughout my young life, I was known as Mudd.  There were times that I hated it, but, mostly, I just embraced my inner Mudd. You should too, there’s a little Harry Mudd in us all.

Well, in the mid-1970’s, there were these rumors of a new Star Trek TV show.  I was a TV Guide fanatic and read intently all of the rumors there and any where I could.  And, then, one day, it was true!

Paramount decided it was going to start what was, at the time, a fourth commercial TV network and Star Trek was going to be the flagship show.  I was so excited.That excitement, though, was short lived.  Paramount soon decided to scrap not only the network, but the show too!  There was some good news, though…they were going to make a big budget movie!  And, best of all, they got all of the main actors back, including Nimoy, who, at the time, hated everything related to Star Trek. Or, so it was said.

Well, fast forward a long year or so and the movie premiered.  My Dad had promised to take me to see it.  Well, at the time, my father had re-married and moved about fifty miles north of Richmond, to Fredericksburg.  I didn’t see him much during that time, maybe two weekends a month. Logistics more than anything else, was the problem.  Sometimes, it was my step mother who picked me up as my Dad worked evenings and I was still in school.

Well, it was, finally, time for the movie to open in Fredericksburg and my Dad said we would go.  Well, during that week, he went and saw the damned movie without me! I didn’t know until my step mother picked me up.  She got me early that Friday-I got out of school by three and she was waiting for me.

On that long drive – long to me – to Fredericksburg, we stopped in Ashland to see my Dad. That’s when he dropped the bomb on me.  He had to work that night and I would have to go to the move BY MYSELF!  I had been so looking forward to  not only seeing the movie, but seeing it with my Dad.  He was the only person who ‘got’ my love of all things Trek.  My step mother hated it, so she wasn’t going to go.  Which, I suppose, was OK, though I would have been excited to go with her.  My Dad gave me some money for the movie, popcorn and a soda, ten bucks, I think.

Oh man, was I hurt. When he told he had seen it, though, that was the worst.  I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my Dad.  I could not believe he would do that. To ME!

The rest of the drive to Fredericksburg was quiet. My poor step mother tried to make conversation, but I was having nothing to do with it.  Brooding, moping, whatever.

We got to my Dad’s house and I took my bags in, got some water and then she took me to the Four Mile Fork Theater-which is a car dealership now, I think. She dropped me and said she would be back in two and a half hours. I thanked her and, cautiously went in the theater and got my ticket.

This was also the first time I had gone to a movie by myself.  Now, I was not only upset about my Dad, but was a bit anxious to be there alone.

I got my popcorn and soda and sat down. Mid way up the theater and in the middle. I wanted optimal viewing and sound. The movie, supposedly, had this awesome soundtrack.  It did.

When the lights went down, and the curtains opened, I stopped being mad. I stopped feeling alone.  I started to feel that sense of excitement and wonder well up again. The feeling I had had for a long time.  After the previews were done (no ads back then, just a couple of preview and then…) that Paramount logo popped up. The crowd went nuts.  I remember that long intro music and, then, that first scene.  You could have kicked me between my legs and I would not have noticed.  For the next two-plus hours, I was enthralled.  Man, Admiral Kirk sure seemed nervous and that twit Decker…who the hell was this guy anyway? It took me awhile to connect him with the Doomsday Device Commodore Decker.  Oh, and the bald chick? Yeah, being a teenager, well, lets just say I REALLY dug her. Oddly enough, though, Mr. Spock made me hate him at first.  It wasn’t until V’Ger injured him that I started to like him again. He was more of an arrogant ass than normal. And, the others, they were just there, I didn’t give a crap about them.

When then end finished, I was pumped and disappointed, at the same time.  Pumped over the movie being so big in scale and, yet, not very fulfilling. Disappointed because I didn’t get share it with my Dad.

I don’t know why he chose not to see it with me, we saw the next two together. We saw the Star Wars movies together.  I never asked him why.  I had gone to bed not long after the movie.  I didn’t want to see him that night.  I talked his ear off the next day about the movie, but, that night, I didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He never said he was sorry, or even mentioned it again.

I finally stopped being mad about it. And it seems so petty today, but, when I was 14, it was a pretty big deal to me.  An experience I wanted to share, with person I looked up to the most.  Something we both shared a love for, yet, he chose to work instead.  This is something I swore I would never do if I ever had children. And, for the most part, I have put my kids ahead of my job. There have been a few times where I absolutely had to work and either miss or be late for something, but that has been rare. And, sometimes, I catch myself putting myself ahead of them.  I try, very hard, to not do that, but, I too, fail. One of the things I never thought about, until I had children of my own, was why he chose to work.  It is very possible that it was one of those ‘absolute’ moments I spoke about. I am going to go with that.

The father-son dynamic is very important.  Fathers should experience all the ‘firsts’ they can, with their sons. (Ok, daughters too.) They are moments you will NEVER get a chance to relive.  Even with multiple children, what one may value, another may not give a crap about.

I still wish we could have seen the movie together though.  Maybe I’m not completely over that.

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