That Dad Life

Being a dad is hard. I'm just trying my best.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Donald Trump

Last night while watching the election coverage, the four-year-old asked, "Who's Donald Trump?" I wasn't sure how to answer at first. Shredder, the Decepticons, the Wicked Witch of the West -- what is the four-year-old equivalent of such evil, such hatred? How could I explain to my son in a way he'd understand just how bad this man is? I had no clue -- I still have no fucking clue. So, I told him the truth: "Donald Trump is a bad person." Naturally, my son wanted to know why. "Because he says and does mean things to people, especially to people we love." He seemed okay with that explanation. This morning, the four-year-old asked how the election went. I didn't know what to say, and I didn't know how to hide my sadness. I gave my son a hug and told him I loved him. Those were the only words I could muster.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Halloween

The four-year-old’s first time trick-or-treating was a success for all. He got to go door-to-door dressed as a Ninja Turtle (Leonardo!) and get candy from strangers (and even some play-do!). I look like the best dad ever for letting him dress up as a Ninja Turtle and get candy from strangers. (He doesn’t quite understand the custom yet.) Then he comes home and eats a piece of candy before dinner (Strangely he chose the bat-shaped pretzels! Amateur.) And then after he goes to bed I get to eat all the candy I want (because I’m an adult and I do what I want!) while watching a scary movie (“Children of the Corn,” ironically!). Now I’m crazy high on sugar (as if you couldn’t already tell by all the parentheticals and exclamations!). Halloween is amazing – even for parents!

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Cleanliness

While giving the four-year-old a bath I asked him what the highlight of his day was, and he proudly said, "I wiped my butt today." "You did?" I asked trying not to laugh in his face. "Yeah," he said. "And then I washed my hands." It wasn't just the highlight of his day -- it was the highlight of mine, too.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Arts Funding: An Introduction

While getting ready for bed last night, my son asked me what I did for work, and I said, "Daddy's an arts administrator." He gave me a look somewhere between curiosity and WTF, the look most people who don't work in the arts give me when I say what my job is. I tried to think of how to explain what I do to a four-year-old. I'd just spent the whole day in a grant panel discussing artists and their work with a roomful of incredibly intelligent and successful practicing artists and curators. I knew my kid wouldn't understand that, so I said, "I give people money to make things." He said, "I give people money, too." Then he went looking for the penny he'd just found on the ground.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Gender Pronouns

The four-year-old has a stuffed teddy bear fittingly named Teddy. For a long time Teddy was a girl, and then recently he started saying Teddy was a boy. Sometimes Teddy is a boy and a girl at the same time (as in both the “he” and “she” pronouns are used in the same sentence) and sometimes Teddy is one or the other. A few weeks ago when the four-year-old brought up Teddy’s gender fluidity I tried to introduce the pronouns they/them, but the child wasn’t having it. He was very adamant that Teddy was a he and a she. On the way home tonight he brought up Teddy out of nowhere. “Teddy the girl or Teddy the boy?” I asked. That’s when he broke it down for me. There’s Teddy the girl who’s an actual teddy bear, and then there’s Super Teddy, who is a boy robot or mutant or has some kind of superpower. I’m clearer on Teddy’s gender identity than I am on his superpower. Both Teddy the girl and Teddy the boy are one person, and I’m using the word “person” here very loosely, and they are also brother and sister and possibly a mommy and a daddy. If you’re still with me, I’m impressed because I’m damn confused. After the child explained this all to me, I asked if there was anything else he had to say about Teddy. “Yes,” he said. “She’s my best friend.”

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Rain

The theory of rain according to the four-year-old: “It’s raining because the clouds got put in timeout for hitting their mama.”

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Capitol Hill

The four-year-old describing Capitol Hill: “Ewww. It smells like potty here.”

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Work

Right before bed I asked the four-year-old if he was excited to come to work with me tomorrow. “What are we doing?” he asked. “Installing artwork,” I said. “What’s that?” he asked. “You know what paintings are, right?” He shook his head yes and said, “I painted a race car.” “Well,” I said, “tomorrow we’re gonna spend the day helping artists hang their paintings. Doesn’t that sound cool?” “Did they paint race cars?” he asked. “No, I don’t think there are any race cars in this show,” I said. “Aw man,” he said. Then he asked, “Are they gonna be nice?” “Yeah, I’m friends with some of them.” “Will your friends paint me a race car?” he asked. Guess I better get to work on creating a grant for race car artists.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Having a Bad Day

While eating dinner I leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Why’d you do that?” the four-year-old asked. “I’m having a bad day,” I said. “What’s wrong, daddy?” I wished I could explain to my child exactly what it was. Today was just one of those days that should have ended when it started. Usually, I can gut out the hard ones with a little self-talk and a lot of coffee. If it’s real bad, one of those inspirational Eminem songs will do. Not today. I couldn’t say it was one thing that did me in – it was everything. The ordinary everyday swallowed me whole. A four-year-old wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t have the energy to put it in his terms. Still I tried to describe my feelings because I want him to be able to do the same. “It’s been a long day,” I said. “I’m tired and irritated and a little sad.” “Oh,” he said with the matter-of-factness of a therapist. “You need a nap.” “I don’t think that would help,” I said. “Yeah, it would,” he said. I wanted to argue with him, but this time, maybe the kid was right. Maybe I just needed to shut my eyes and be still for awhile.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Where I Write

The four-year-old describing my writing office to his bestie: “That’s where my daddy goes to read and do work. Sometimes he talks to himself down there.”

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Controlling Others, Feet, and Broccoli

Overheard nuggets of wisdom from tonight’s toddler sleepover: 1. “My mom says you can’t control other people.” 2. “Only let someone smell your feet if they say it’s okay.” “Do you want to smell my feet?” “No. I just want to play robots.” 3. “Broccoli helps you grow.” “And it also gives you muscles.” “And it helps you carry stuff.”

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Art

While cleaning up, the four-year-old came across a piece of artwork by a friend sitting on the kitchen counter. “What’s that?” he asked. “It’s art,” I said. “By my friend Tessa.” “What is art?” he asked. I took a deep breath and thought about how to respond. How the fuck do you explain art to a four-year-old? “That’s a question people have been asking for years, for centuries even,” I said. “Some of the smartest people in the world are still trying to define art.” He stared at me as if I’d said the dumbest thing ever. Naturally, I turned to Google for the simplest answer. I read the definition of art, something about creative expression and imagination. When that didn’t satisfy his curiosity, I showed him a book sitting on the counter by another friend. “This is art,” I said. “My friend Leigh wrote it.” The boy stared at me still unsure. I gave it another thought. “You know all your books?” I said. He shook his head yes. “Those are all works of art,” I said. Instantly, he perked up with a sense of recognition. Leigh and Tessa he couldn’t understand, but “Goodnight Moon,” all those Transformer books, those made sense. I had successfully explained art to a four-year-old.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Childbirth

On the way home last night the four-year-old and I drove by a woman with a baby. “I want a baby,” he said. For the last few months he’s been requesting a baby, probably because there’s a new one at daycare that he likes to cuddle. It’s a request his mother and I have been pawning off on each other. My response, like all the other times, was the same: “You should talk to your mama about that.” “My mama told me I came from her belly,” he said. “Yes, you did. Your mama and I made you.” “What’d you do?” he asked in a tone that was more accusation than question. I paused for a moment and thought about my response, but couldn’t come up with one answer that would end this conversation. “I… helped,” I stuttered. “What did you help with?” he pushed. Suddenly, I got nervous. What did I REALLY do? How DID I help? There’s the obvious thing I did, which I absolutely could not explain to my son, and then all the doctor appointments I went to and tater tots I cooked and bowls of ice cream I fetched, the things dads do because we can’t do much else. In those months leading up to birth and shortly after, the role of dad is complicated, all the expectations, the fears, the search for purpose and meaning, the hope that we can form a bond with our child that comes so innately to mothers. The four-year-old wouldn’t understand any of that, so I repeated myself. “I don’t know, man. I just helped.” By then we’d passed two airplanes, and his attention was diverted, his hand stretching for the sky trying to grab something he could not reach.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Penises & Vaginas

I was clipping my toenails in the bathroom while the four-year-old was taking a bath. “Look, daddy,” he said. When I turned, I found him with his head leaned back against the tub wall and his legs spread eagle playing with his little wiener. Unsure of what to say, I put down the nail clipper and braced myself against the sink. I thought I’d have a few more years before I caught him doing THAT. “Isn’t this cool?” he asked. The first thing I could think of to say was, it’s going to be so much cooler when you’re older, but I couldn’t tell him that. Instead, I picked up the clippers and went back to cutting my toe nails. I figured if I made a big deal about him touching his junk he’d just do it all the time. Eventually he put his wiener down and said, “Daddy, I’m just a boy. I have a penis.” “Yes, you do,” I said. “You have a penis, too,” he said. “That’s right,” I said. “Katie has a penis,” he said, referring to my girlfriend. “No, Katie doesn’t have a penis,” I corrected him. He looked at me dumbfounded. “What does she have?” Again, I was stumped. Did I give him the scientific name or some softer playground slang? I’d spent the last four years calling dicks “pee-pees,” but I didn’t know the female equivalent. I thought for a second and said, “Katie has a vagina.” “A bagina?” he said slowly, his mind blown. “Yes, a vagina,” I said, going heavy on the v sound. The four-year-old thought about it for a moment, mumbled “bagina” to himself, and laughed. “Do you have any other questions?” I asked. He shook his head no and then went back to playing with his Transformers.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Plumbing

Plumbing according to the four-year-old: “Did you know when you flush the toilet the poop and the pee goes down a pipe to the sewer where the Ninja Turtles and Splinter live? I know that’s what happens. I know that secret.”

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Your Inner Child

While cuddling before bed, the four year-old grabbed me by the head, pressed his lips against my cheek, and blew, making a fart noise that sounded almost like a real fart. We both started laughing so hard we snorted almost at the same exact time. Then he made another fart noise on my cheek. Then another. And another. The kid only stopped because he lost his breath from laughter. I was right along with him, laughing convulsively.

[youdontknowaboutthatdadlife]

On Digestion

In the middle of dinner the four year-old said, “I need to use the potty.” “Poo poo or pee pee?” I asked, not because I cared. I just didn’t wanna have to put down my hotdog. The kid was almost potty trained, but wiping himself meant a whole roll of toilet paper in the garbage can – somehow without any poo poo on it! – and an itchy butthole. “Poo poo,” he said putting down his hotdog. “I need to make more room.” I sat there for a moment and thought maybe this was my chance to impart what little science I knew on to my child. I could tell him about the digestive system using words like “belly” and “poop” and “farts,” that long-ago elective nutrition class still paying off. I began the boy’s first lesson. “Well, that’s not exactly how it works. You don’t poop the food immediately.” “Yes, you do,” he countered. “No, you don’t,” I said. “Yes, you do,” he said. “No, you don’t,” I said. Here I was getting baited into an argument about digestion with someone who couldn’t spell digestion. “Just go poop,” I said. A short while later the four year-old called for me, but I wasn’t done with my hotdogs yet. “What?” I shouted. “I have to tell you a secret,” he said. By the time I got to the bathroom he’d forgotten the secret. Instead he told me he loved me. Then he said, “Wipe my butt please.”