Friday, January 13, 2012


Next weekend my little guy will turn 6. I am excite.

The guy's had a big year, with two trips to DC, the Inaugural (or only?) Baltimore Grand Prix, the advent of a step-mother, and the start of big-boy school.  He got a dog, came to the track for two race weekends, spent a bunch of time in the mountains with his grandparents, and made lots and lots of friends (including his first negative-influence friend).

He's seen all the Star Wars movies almost as many times as I have, and can damn near match me at Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. He's into video games--particularly the Star Wars and LEGO titles.

And this morning he called me out.

Every day I ask him how his day was, and every day getting him to tell me is like pulling teeth.  "It was good."  "Green frog today." (that's how they track behavior at his school)  But I want more, and so begins the daily ritual of questions:

1. What class did you have today?
2. What did you do at recess?
3. Did you eat all of your lunch?
4. What did you do at after-care?

Invariably I'm met with one- or two-word answers, and it drives me mad.  So this morning we were talking about how much I want to know about his day, and how I can't be there to see all of these things and therefore have to rely on what he tells me to paint a picture.  And he replied:  "But when I ask you about your day, you just say, 'I worked.'"

Boom. Served.

And now I realize I have an obligation to be more open with him. How it had escaped me up to this point is beyond me. Maybe I just figured he was too little and wouldn't care or understand, but he has a genuine interest in knowing about my day, and I'm seeing the reflection of my answers in his.

And so, when I get home this afternoon, I'm going to sit down with my son and tell him about all the great things I saw on 9gag today.

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