A Miniature Version of Myself

“Dad. Dad. Dad.”

I feel the back of my leg being tugged on and pressed by tiny little digits.

“What is it Jamie?”

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing.

“That’s the dog.”

A few seconds pass…

“Why do you keep asking if you already know the answer?”

“I don’t know.”

As the parent of a 2-year-old, I must have some version of the above conversation at least 100 times a day. After the first 99 times, repetitive, obvious questions become as painful as a back alley colonoscopy. I’ve written about my chronic impatience before, and in moments like this it rears its head.

He’s likely to pull this unoriginal gem out in those moments at the dinner table while his mother and I are trying to figure out our schedule for the next day, or when we need to talk about something of significance. Sometimes he follows the question up by flashing an adorable smile, and it’s impossible to remember that less than five seconds earlier he was grinding so hard on my nerves.

There is a tiny, inconvenient fact I try to keep in mind when I can’t seem to let these transgressions pass. I’m raising a miniature version of myself. As a parent, that sentiment alone is nothing new or shocking. But as my 2-year-old gets older, it becomes more glaring, and not always flattering.

My wife occasionally brings up a story that may have served me better untold. When I was a kid probably not much older than Jamie, a friend of the family threatened to charge me a nickel a question. Even at that rate, he likely could have become rich.

All of the goofy behavioral quirks, they come from somewhere. Genetics plays a big role in this family. I get it. I asked a lot of questions as a kid, and the universe is paying me back.

As hard as it can be to listen to at times, I hope he retains that curiosity. It paid off for me, with a career in journalism. I got to explore a variety of issues, asking a steady barrage of questions well into adulthood. I’m rewarded with a lot of knowledge about random subjects that I wouldn’t otherwise understand.

His curiosity is growing, and with that will come more advanced questions. He’s already begun to ask a few. Some of the questions he’s asked are rather impressive, and a few questions make me want to crawl into a corner and hide.

I’m also confident that someday he’ll understand that’s his dog, and he can begin asking a new set of questions. I know they’ll evolve, but I’m 100 percent confident they’ll never stop, and I don’t want them to. For better or worse, like father, like son.

If you like what you read, please vote for me by clicking the Top Daddy Blog Link below or sharing on social media. Thanks!