H, I got to hold hands with you last night before we went to sleep.
And I got one of the best bedtime stories ever.
H, you said (in my voice, as I was saying it to you):
Dear H,
The day that you got born is the day that you hold hands with daddy.
And the day that you hold hands with him is the day that you fell in love with him.
My beautiful.
I love you.
-Dad
So, why did I make this website anonymous – at least for now?
The answer simple:
It is not my decision to choose if my writing to you is public or private.
I suppose it is public in the sense that it has been published online.
But you would have to search to find it, and posts are not promoted in any way, shape, or form (Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest etc.).
Further, nobody’s names are referenced.
So even if it were promoted by social media, “Mom, Dad, H, and K” is about all you have to go on.
Once upon a time, everyone lived in relative privacy.
When I was a child, the only places to read about someone were in a book, a magazine, or the newspaper.
Seems crazy the world has changed so much since then.
But, of course, a private life has become difficult as the internet has grown.
Social media and digital publishing have allowed everyone to instantaneously share their writing, videos, and pictures with the world.
This is fantastic as there are fewer gatekeepers deciding what is “worthy” to publish and what is not.
But with this, we have lost our anonymity.
I have a little bit of judgment in my heart about people that share every intimate detail and picture of their children before their children were ever given a choice.
This website is anonymous because you get to choose what you want to be public.
My advice is to err on the side of anonymity.
It is easy to eventually share more, but hard to put it all back in the bottle once it is out.
I love you.
-Dad
H,
You are hilarious.
Hilarious with just enough knowledge and sass to make yourself dangerous – and then, get us all in trouble.
This story happened, I don’t know – a year or so ago?
I forgot to write about it at the time and thought of it again this week.
It goes like this.
Grandpa and Grandma were in town.
And Grandpa was doing a little tinkering around the house like he always does.
I do not remember what he was working on, but he was in the master bedroom by the bed and was bent over on the floor, about to get up.
I was with him and you came hopping over with your boundless energy.
You paused in front of us, put your hand on your hip and asked:
“What in the Holy Spirit are you doing?”
Grandpa didn’t even say anything.
He just looked regretful.
In retrospect, I’m glad you didn’t give him a heart attack.
Of course, I quickly corrected you.
“No. That’s not nice. You can say ‘what in the world.’ But ‘what in the Holy Spirit‘ is not very nice.”
I was right, but I was trying not to laugh at the same time.
Mom was there to see all of it too.
If she had a drink she would have choked on it.
I love you.
-Dad