He’s in the kitchen on the computer. My wife asks him to take out the trash. Casey responds, “Just give me a few minutes.”
No way! That’s a trigger for me. My Dad was career military, known in our home as the Colonel. He didn’t allow us “a few more minutes.” You did what you were told, when you were told, without hesitation or question. So my stern, demanding voice comes echoing through the wall
. “Casey. Now.”
“Dad, just hold on a second, I just need…”
And then I hear my wife say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the trash.”
That’s it. Now I’m finally up out of my chair. No way is my wife going to rescue this lazy, undisciplined kid who can’t even follow simple directions. I glare at my wife, “Put that down!”
I’m on top of Casey now. “Casey, you take the trash out right now or I’ll throw that stupid computer off the deck.” (See, I’m a guy and I like to bark consequences I can’t actually keep!)
Casey looks at me with this little tear in his eye, “Dad, all I needed was another minute. Fine. I’m done.”
He stomps toward the trash can, but I cut him off. “You’ll never be successful in life if you can’t follow simple directions!”
“Dad, just let me get the trash,” he pleads. I stand in front of him and taunt, “What, are you gonna cry now?” Yes, I was THAT mature. So he runs off upstairs and then I hear him slam the door. Smack. Now I’m banging on the door, “I work hard every day to earn money to pay for that door. You don’t have to respect ME, but you will respect MY DOOR!” So I stomp downstairs ready to complain, yet again, to my wife about HER son. But when I get downstairs, I find this note on the floor:
Dad,
I bought you a birthday card, but I wanted you to actually be able to read what I wrote so I’m typing this because my handwriting isn’t so good. The reason I’m a little late is that I had to finish up a school project tonight. My teacher told us we had to write about our favorite superhero, but I told her I don’t have one. I told her you’re my superhero and I want to be like you. She told me I wasn’t following the directions, to just pick one. I kind of got mad and told her, “No. I don’t like Superman or Spiderman. They aren’t real. They don’t work hard like you do, take me on special trips like you do, get up at 5am on weekends after working all week to take me to a cold ice rink and watch even though I don’t get to play much because I’m not a good athlete like you were.”
So the reason I was on the computer was that I wanted to tell you that I’m glad you are my Dad and I’m lucky because my superhero is my Dad. I hope I can be like you one day and make you proud. I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday. Casey
That was my wake up call as a father.
