For My Son.

Dear Remington,

You are here. You are “sleeping” in your crib in your room. I can hear you snoring. You stir. Up until now you have never slept in your own bed for a night. you wake up and want your mamma. Who could blame you. I’m hopeful that you will get better at this. You impress me so much. You are strong. I watch you crawl around the house from room to room at 8 months old. You get to tables and objects and lift yourself up by your arms to stand up and get a better view. You bend down nearly impaling yourself on sharp edges and corners but somehow your coordination keeps you from major bumps and bruises. You do fall over now and then. You smile a lot. You laugh. I play a game where I move my finger toward your chest slowly like a worm to come tickle you and you start laughing before i even touch you. You watch Olive all the time. I can tell you love her already. She plays games with you. Sometimes she is a little rough, but don’t you worry we are close to make sure nothing happens. I keep telling Olive “you know one day he’s going to be bigger than you and he will be the one tormenting you.” It’s true. You will be the one chasing her one day soon. I want to be a great dad for you. I want to teach you everything I know and more. We can learn together. I want to take you surfing and biking and climbing. Anything. I am lucky to have you my son. You are going to keep me young. Right now you are my inspiration. Granted, there isn’t much i can do with this inspiration besides take care of you and your sister- but I have faith that you will help me do great things as well. I want to make you proud.

I was walking with you around the neighborhood the other afternoon. You turned your head side to side looking from what was close on the sidewalk to the cars passing by. So alert. As I walked with you I was thinking wow I only have 17 years of this left with you as my baby before you are an adult. It’s boring to say it goes by quickly – but it does. A year is nothing. Some idiot once told me that the older you get the faster time seems to go by because each moment in your life is a smaller fraction of your life as a whole. I detest this concept- and i choose to reject it. I’m holding on tight to every moment I get with you and your sister. Maybe I can slow time down when I’m with you.

I’ll give that a shot.

Daddy Woolf.

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