The Dark at the End of the Tunnel

There is a list of questions that I just cannot say “no” to:

Would you like another beer?

Do you want to Whatasize that?

Were you aiming for that tree with your driver?

Have you been working out?

And now I have to add another:

“Daddy, will you play with me?”

When I was single, I remember thinking that having kids would just keep me away from happy hour.  Why would I want to drink fake tea when I can drink real beer?  Why would I want to watch a dance recital when I can watch a ball game?  Here’s the thing, I can’t remember a single conversation that I had from a decade of happy hours. And outside of a few exceptions, I cannot remember the details of any ball game that I’ve ever watched.  But I will never forget the look on Ella’s face when she was in dance class and smiled at me as she waved at me through the glass.  And I will never forget the time during a pretend tea party when out of the blue, Ella looked up at me and said, “I love you, Daddy.”  Both times I could feel my soul smile.  That has never happened to me in a bar.  

The reason I thought that tea parties and dance recitals would be boring was simple – I had not met Ella yet.  

It took spending time with Ella to make me understand what “being present” means. I used to think that phrase was just some worthless combination of words that a group of people sitting in a circle at some “mindfulness” retreat would use to make themselves sound spiritually deep.  But I get it now.  When Ella and I are together all she is thinking about is how she and daddy can have the most fun with whatever toy she happens to be holding at that time.  It is just about the two of us connecting.  She made me realize that many times when I am spending time with someone, I’m not really there.  When I play with her, sometimes my mind wanders to other things that I should be doing.  There is always a phone call to make, a stock price to check, an email to reply to, or a bill to pay.  How often am I checking my phone or getting mentally distracted when I should be listening? 

She doesn’t have anything to offer in the way of money or physical items.  She just gives me her time, and it is the best present anyone has ever given me.  And the best present I can give her is obviously jewelry.  And a new car someday.  But for now, just my presence. 

Now I have a rule – no cell phone when I am in Ella’s room.  She is still more present with me than I am with her, but it’s a start.  If she is going to give me all her attention, I should do the same for her.  And there is no phone call or email that cannot wait.  Since I have instituted that rule, I have so much more fun with her than I did before.  I am fascinated watching her mind work as she plays with a toy.  She can create a thousand different worlds from a simple stack of Legos.  I learn more from her than anything I have ever read on Twitter.

Ella loves to play in the tunnel and when she does, she always asks “Daddy, will you play in the tunnel with me.”  Ella’s “tunnel” is the area under the dining room table.  When she asks me to play in the tunnel that requires me to get down on the floor.  I am of the age now that when I go down to the floor, it sounds like someone stepped on a sheet of bubble wrap.  How so many body parts can crack without breaking is beyond me, but I have been able to avoid serious bodily injury so far when entering the tunnel.  The only thing more difficult than going down on the floor is trying to get up.  It’s not impossible; I just have to plan ahead because it takes some time.  I start the process about five minutes before I think I might have to go to the bathroom because the only one in our house that finds it appropriate to pee under the dining room table is our bulldog, Gus. Combined with my difficulty of getting in and out of the tunnel, sometimes I am just too tired to play in the tunnel.  But I go in the tunnel every time she asks because I know that a day will come when she won’t ask Daddy to play in the tunnel anymore, and that will be a dark day for me.  And somewhere around her teenage years hanging out with friends will be more fun than hanging out with Daddy.  I know that is part of the deal, but that won’t make it hurt any less.  So, I plan to soak up all the tunnel trips (and Aleve and Icy Hot) while I can.  Does anybody look back on their deathbed and say, “I should have spent more time at the office?” I want to look back and say, “I’m glad I got to spend all that time in the tunnel.”