Apparently I'm "Dad" now

It happened in the car the other day when I was driving the elder home from swim team practice.  It was around 6:47pm EST.  Mark the time.  It is the moment when my son, from the back seat of the car over my right shoulder, asked me what we were having for dinner that night.  But it wasn't what he asked me but how he asked me that caught me unprepared:

Hey Dad, do you know what's for dinner?

I was getting ready to tell him that Mom was fixing her wonderful spaghetti until time as I experienced it came to a screeching halt:

Dad.

Dad??  What was that?  DAD??

I mumbled the answer to his query but my mind was barely on topic.  It was hopelessly stuck in that moment 15 seconds prior and the noticeable change in nomenclature.

Dad.  Not Daddy, but Dad.

There come many moments in parenthood when you realize that your children are growing up.  When they first really smile at you as an infant and you know it's not the gas.  When they take their first step, say their first word (or something close to one).  When they walk through those school doors for the first time.  For the most part, though, you are semi-prepared for these shifts; so you learn to receive them with grace and thankfulness.

But no one told me about the day I wouldn't be "Daddy" anymore.

It's not like I thought I'd be one forever, of course.  Never pictured my high school graduate giving me a big hug and saying "Thanks Daddy."  Never envisioned his mother and I paying a visit to the family in their new house, our grandkids running around, and him saying "Welcome to our home, Daddy."  I knew the switch was inevitable - just not this soon.  Nowhere near this soon.

I mean, I've been "Daddy" ever since this little fella came into our lives six and a half years ago. Even before he could say a real word he was blabbering it's close derivative: Dada.  That's been my primary identity all these years - but apparently no longer.

And don't try to tell me the two are the same, cause they're not.  "Daddy" is the stuff of skinned knees from falling off the swingset, playing pretend rock band with a broom and pots and wooden spoons, and reading "Guess How Much I Love You" at bedtime.  "Dad" is something else entirely.  "Dad" is all about car keys and allowance and grown-up privileges.  Dad is how you're introduced to your child's significant other when they enter the picture.

Ugh.  When exactly did this happen?  What event precipitated this transformation?  I was chewing on this furiously as the car made its way home.  Maybe it came from school and being there with other kids, most of whom are a few years older than he - maybe he picked it up there?  Maybe from some TV show, perhaps?

And then it occurred to me that the truth of it all is that the kid is growing up.  He'll be seven in September - hard to believe.  We'd been to the dentist earlier that afternoon and he's got four loose teeth.  They were telling me not to freak out when the permanent ones come in and they look huge; adult teeth situated inside the head of a small but fast-growing boy.  He's playing t-ball and is signed up for the swim team.  He's talking about having sleepovers with his best buddy.  He's telling me what songs he wants on his ipod when he gets one (which is not anytime soon, I can assure you).  He's talking about Jesus and God being the same person and the difference is that Jesus "is kind of like a Transformer" - pretty astute theological thinking for a kindergartner, I thought.

My boy is growing up.  And I love it; I really do.  I love how our relationship changes and grows with age, and how we talk about different things now, more in-depth.  I love how we can have a real conversation about death and dying after watching Marley and Me; how he actually offers legitimate gift ideas for Mother's Day, how we can go from simply memorizing the names of the four dudes in U2 to which songs are off which albums and what instruments are played.  I'm not one of those parents who mourns every corner turned as their child moves forward on the path of life.  I'm a sentimental guy, but I'm also a realist; and I feel it's better to celebrate the changes rather than get all bent out of shape over them.

Still, there's something about suddenly being "Dad" that's just freaky.  Could he not have given me a heads-up, perhaps?  Hey, just wanted to let you know - from now on you'll be "Dad" and not "Daddy."  Would that have helped?  Probably not.

I guess there are worse things I could be called.  Never been a fan of "Pops," and "Old Man" is even worse.  There will probably be a time or two in the heat of the moment when I get called some unrepeatable name, so I better be thankful it's not that.

But still: Dad. Sheesh. The boy's growing up on me. They weren't kidding when they said not to blink.

Comments

[ksc]

love the post.

From a fellow "Dad"