My wife has given a note to our child everyday for lunch during his kindergarten year and today I found a note from our child for me since he starting to learn to write. It made me so happy.
So when my daughter was at the age of learning how to write, I used to go in her room every morning to drag her out of bed to get ready for school. In a tradition handed down from my parents, I would sometimes be fairly annoying - singing little made-up nonsense songs or tickling her feet or whatever - until she finally relented sleep and got up to meet the day.
One morning she was being particularly stubborn about getting up, so my second time going in I started ramping up the nuisance factor until she finally sat up. My third time checking on her, I found her still in bed with the covers pulled all the way up over her. When I started in with loud noises and singing, a single tiny hand poked up from under her covers holding an index card with something scribbled in pencil on it.
I took that card and found that the scribble was a word.
"Asshole." Written in the over-sized and unsteady scrawl of a tired 1st grader.
Now, I know that wasn't supposed to be a "proud papa" moment, but I still carry that index card in my wallet. The pencil has since faded away, but it's okay because I know what was there.
youniversespeaks on January 16th, 2020 at 00:51 UTC »
100% I would cry
sorrowful_times on January 16th, 2020 at 01:35 UTC »
They must really love you, that's a beautiful avocado. You don't waste that on hollow gestures.
depcrestwood on January 16th, 2020 at 01:51 UTC »
So when my daughter was at the age of learning how to write, I used to go in her room every morning to drag her out of bed to get ready for school. In a tradition handed down from my parents, I would sometimes be fairly annoying - singing little made-up nonsense songs or tickling her feet or whatever - until she finally relented sleep and got up to meet the day.
One morning she was being particularly stubborn about getting up, so my second time going in I started ramping up the nuisance factor until she finally sat up. My third time checking on her, I found her still in bed with the covers pulled all the way up over her. When I started in with loud noises and singing, a single tiny hand poked up from under her covers holding an index card with something scribbled in pencil on it.
I took that card and found that the scribble was a word.
"Asshole." Written in the over-sized and unsteady scrawl of a tired 1st grader.
Now, I know that wasn't supposed to be a "proud papa" moment, but I still carry that index card in my wallet. The pencil has since faded away, but it's okay because I know what was there.