Time? What time?

My 3 year old has been taking skating lessons for the past few weeks. Each Thursday, before he sets off to preschool, I dress him in his “cozy pants.” They are just fleece lined jeans but they are ideal for keeping him warm and dry during the inevitable countless slips to the ice.


When I picked him up at pre-school today, he was wearing his “back up” pair of pants, as the “cozy pants” were mud-soaked from the outside playtime earlier in the day. We now had to frantically race home and change into an older pair of cozy pants and still hope to make it to the rink on time.

In the car home, I already started prepping my son. “Alright, we’re going to have to cooperate and change quickly if we are going to make it on time. Can we do that?”

“Yes, daddy.”

What it turned out he really meant was, “Ha ha ha…are you kidding me?”

The dallying began the second we got in the door. First we struggled over getting the old pants off. Then I realized the underpants and socks were drenched, too, so they’d have to come off. Then we had to get dressed again and out the door. He was dawdling at his own pace as he is wont to do, so I would try and help. Every step of the way, my attempts to “cooperate” in getting his pants or socks on were met with independence and struggle.

“We are going to be late,” I kept repeating with a rising intensity in my voice.

I found myself loosing my cool. As my frustration mounted so did his. By the end I was huffing and stomping around like a three year-old myself. Finally as we were about to head out the door, I was trying to wrestle his shoes on and he was resisting. Then, under his breath, he muttered in a frustrated voice, “I’m tired of this crap up!”

It took every ounce of me not to fall apart laughing.

On the drive to the rink, I realized that time is an artificial concept. Kids don’t care about time. Sure, they have to learn it like the rest of us, but it is hardly in their nature to worry about being on time. My son wasn’t trying to be difficult, he was being three.

If you are a dad who has limited time with your child, try to avoid falling into the same trap I did. To some degree, men are still required to play the role of disciplinarian and “bad cop.” Don’t add “Mr. Grumpy” to the list. If your limited time with your child is spent barking and chiding, he’ll eventually tune you out.

When time is going to be an issue, try to budget a little more room so you don’t wind up getting bent out of shape when your kid is just being a kid.

He shoots, he scores!

Have you ever had this experience when you have company visiting you? You partly dread their arrival, not because you don’t like them, but because you feel that heavy obligation to show them around and make sure they have a good time. Then, part way through their trip, things begin to change. You notice what a great time they are having, and you start to see your own little corner of the world again through their eyes. Suddenly, you have a whole new appreciation for something you’ve seen a million times.

Being a dad is the same way. The obligations of being a dad are overwhelming. You feel bogged down by the same things you’ve seen and done a million times. But if you allow yourself to experience them through your child’s eyes, you can regain that sense of wonder.

I’ll give you an example.

I was at a minor hockey game just a while back. My son was just shy of 3 and it was the first time he’s ever seen a game. We were a little late arriving and the game was already underway when we took our seats.

My son sat on my lap, staring inquisitively at the players on the ice. His little brow was furrowed and I could tell he was trying to figure something out. This went on for a few minutes until he finally turned to me and said, “How did they get in there?”

He was referring to the players, of course, wondering how this group of gladiators got into what seemed to him like an impenetrable fortress of boards and Plexiglas.

His curiosity tickled me to no end. I spent the rest of the game explaining to him what to anyone else would be the most obvious of details—why the goalie was wearing pads, why the players have tape on their sticks. It was a joyous evening of discovery and rediscovery and I owed it all to my little boy.

The next time you are feeling frazzled by the endless array of whys, try and use it as a chance to see the world with the same awe and wonder you child does.