Every Monday and Friday, it’s a Daddy/Son Morning.
Right now, your sister has preschool Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and your mother and Lottie are in the office while Mommy works, except for Wednesday, which is Mommy’s day off.
But you and me? We stay home. We make breakfast. We listen to music. We build with blocks and watch Justice League Unlimited or The Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. We play and laugh and I soak up every second of our daddy and son time.
A while back, I wrote a letter to Audrey Rae, telling her that she will always have a direct line to my heart, that her words and actions will always carry an extra weight with me. While that’s still true, you and I have something that Audrey Rae and I or Lottie and I will never have:
We are a father and a son.
You are, in fact, my only son (and please, Lord God, let it stay that way. No more kids…). It’s just you and me in a house of women. You and I will inevitably have a connection with one another, like two sole survivors, stranded in a sea of estrogen. I can’t tell you how excited I am for this.
Okay, maybe I can, because that’s what this letter is, basically.
Although our Daddy/Son Mornings will only last as long as Lottie has to travel with her food source, I am thrilled to share other father/son moments with you.
Our first game of catch. Our first camping trip, just you and me. Our first professional baseball game. Our first game of Magic or D&D. Our first comic we read together, our first backyard campout, the first time we write our names in the snow together.
Son, I am more than excited for these moments. It begins now with mornings staying in our pajamas until 10, but someday I want to travel with you, to share hobbies with you, to just be a father and his only son, spending quality time together.
This isn’t to say I won’t do these things or share moments with your sisters, this is just saying that our moments as father and son will be special to me. I hope our time isn’t limited to these few months of twice a week mornings with my favorite son.
Okay, my only son, but still…
I know you won’t always be as excited about these times of bonding as I am now, that’s just the nature of growing up (especially as a teenager), but I hope these moments continue until I’m old and your son(s) is(are) right there with us.
I love you, son, and I’m excited for our time together.
1 Corinthians 1:4