On the subject of older dads...

Six years ago on St. Patrick's Day, we had a surprise arrival. Well, sort of a surprise. At 49 years old, I hadn't really considered starting over with kids, having had my first ones fly the coop a while back. My wife surprised me at a dinner party, and once the info had sunk in, we got it checked out and, yep, we had a youngster on the way.

One of the things I found out about myself was that the second time around wasn't as scary as the first. I didn't believe Katie was going to die with every cough or sniffle. At the time I was working on getting a post-baccalaureate degree in education, and so I stayed home a couple days a week with Katie and substitute-taught on the other days. It was a life-altering experience for me. Not only wasn't I disconnected from my daughter's upbringing, but I got to use her as a guinea pig for information I needed in classes like Educational Psychology.

However, Katie has blown our expectations out of the water -- because we apparently didn't expect enough. She surpasses anything I could have imagined in her intelligence -- I only half-jokingly tell people that she'll think I'm stupid in a couple years. Her reading is fluent; she's going to finish first grade when most kids start it, her vocabulary is about fourth-grade level right now, and her oral reading has more expression and correct emphasis than most adults who read aloud (not a common thing these days). She doesn't blow by unfamiliar words when reading -- if she doesn't know what they mean, she'll ask for the definition. I prided myself on my reading ability at an early age. Katie is carrying on the tradition, and I hope for great things for her.

So, even though, on her 6th birthday, she'll be getting all the packages, she has given me the present of my lifetime. She goes to the same school where I teach, so we go to work and come home together every day. We talk about everything from Yoda to rhinos ("Dad, it's not a 'rhino!' It's a RHINOCEROS!") and we listen to the same music (she thinks the Doobie Brothers, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, and the Eagles are cool, not to mention Neil Diamond). She has her own lizard, likes snakes, and has told me she wants to learn to shoot when she gets bigger. And sometimes, late at night, I find myself in her room, just watching her sleep, and wishing for her all the contentment and fulfillment that she can have. As a parent, you wish you could foresee the future, and can protect your kids from anything bad. I know this isn't possible, but I think she's well on her way to growing up to be someone special. Or even MORE special, I should say.

So -- to the once-newborn in my arms in that picture (my wife's stepdad took that picture about ten minutes after Katie was born, and caught me telling Katie she was going to grow up to be a Republican nun -- and I'm not Catholic) who is now growing up rapidly -- thanks, on your birthday, for believing in me, for thinking I can do no wrong, for running to me when you have a problem, and for making me realize that there are a lot of things more important than bad people who invent stories about me on the internet. I don't think they'll be taking THIS present away from me.



I love you, Katie.


Dad