Today was a one-on-one day with the boy. He was home with a fever and I managed to land a sub. I started the day off, briefly checking email while he tugged two cardboard boxes around the house as his choo-choo. Even though he was happy to be playing train, his every other word seemed to be "Papa." After asking him to give me a minute three additional times, I finally wised up, closed the computer, and began to play with him.

It's a basic truth of parenting that I have to periodically rediscover: it's harder (and a lot more unpleasant for all involved) to ignore your kids than to listen and be present and enjoy them. It's one of those things where there is resistance for a reason. It's trying to tell you something.

We had a lovely morning. We read books. We built up the towers and bridges of the "marble game" and sent marbles racing down and across after each other. We giggled. We had rare father-son time with no big sister about, demanding her share of the attention.

But that's not why I've come here to this spot on the digital breezeway to talk to you today. I wanted to speak of lunch. The boy was sitting there, talking away, over his sandwich. I wanted him to eat the sandwich because I wanted him to start his nap so I could stop being present and listening (this was four hours later, you see).

I said, "Can you take a bite of your sandwich?"

"Yeah," he said, enthusiastically. "I'll bite it for you and for me!" He then took a big bite.

I thought, 'That's really deep. He understands, on some level, that I really want him to eat his sandwich. Not only that, he's willing to do it for me. At the same time, he's doing it for himself.'

While I was sitting there, marveling at my son's brilliance, he reached into his mouth and pulled out a slimy piece of bread and turkey, all rolled up in spit and mayo. "Here you go, Papa," he said.

So that's what he meant.

Posted by Evan Nichols on 1/16/08; 9:46:57 PM from the The Papa Journal dept.