Reagan,
Sometimes I look at you and think to myself, “what in the world is that kid thinking?” Other times, I’ll tell you something and force you to look at me. When you’re looking at me, I’ll say something like, “I need you to put the robot vacuum back downstairs on it’s charger, it’s not a pet you can keep in your room. I also want you to take this bowl (I’ll pick up the bowl you used last night for bed pretzels) and I want you to take it downstairs and put it in the sink.” Then, tomorrow, bet that the vacuum and that bowl are still up there.
This is my attempt to figure out what is going on in that brain of yours…
Now, before we dive into your brain, I’ll do my best to explain your mom and my brains for context — you do come from us after all so it follows that maybe there would be some similarities. And I’ll say that these comps are not 100% my own, but I 100% believe it to be true.
Your Mom’s Brain
Your mom’s brain is a ball of wire. It’s all balled up, but everything is connected to everything. Her wire-ball brain also has a bluetooth connection to her iCalendar so she knows when she books your doctors appointment six weeks from now that we’ll have to cancel your swim lesson because Val is taking Koen to school that day and she has to make sure you have a snack packed and why can’t her husband ever help with these things???, but also she has a closing that day as long as the inspection report comes back clean and the washing machine is starting to smell again and I wonder if there is an AirBnB in Pinehurst that could fit 12 people in case Jacob and Julie are available and it’s 8 hours drive for her parents, but she didn’t eat today so she should Marco Kristen to see if she has a sitter for PNO next month so she should ask Ryan if I saw the box that was in the laundry room last week and tell me “thank you so much” sarcastically when I don’t because I’m a stupid boy… Bibibop sounds good for lunch today tho, lol.
Your Dad’s Brain
My brain is a little different. My brain is a block of boxes; there are thousands of boxes lined up neatly. The biggest boxes are probably old sports facts and movie quotes. I understand these boxes and know everything that is in each box. Sometimes, it takes me awhile to find these boxes, which is why when your mom asks me about that thing we’re doing tomorrow, and I’m up there playing around in my old poker bad beats box, it takes me awhile to put the lid on the box and find the “things we’re doing this week” box (which unfortunately I keep hidden somewhere in the back of the row).
An unfortunate thing about my boxes is that they don’t touch each other, and if I’m working on my talk-texting a message to my mom box, there is no way I can get out of that box and find the “did Oakley eat lunch” box without having to reboot the system which could take, well…
Your Brain Preface + Long Tangent
As has been documented, you’ve absolutely fallen in love with fishing. You like watching fishing videos, you like going fishing, and you like looking up fishing stuff on Amazon. This week, we went down to Florida to see your grandparents and before we left, we needed to kill some time so we went to a fish store. We got there about four minutes before they opened and sat in the car waiting for them to open. You were so excited. Unfortunately, 11am opening came and went and the door stayed locked. Fortunately, we say another “pet store” across the way called Pet Bazaar, so we decided to go over. You also told me you had to go pee so we needed to check that place out, and we could come back to this store afterward.
This side note is turning into it’s own blog, but whatever it shows you how my boxes function.
Now the drive from this store to that was about 900 feet. In that time, your mom decided that the exterior of the store, coupled with the “Florida Man” vibe of those coming in and out of the store, meant that the store would be full of snakes and spiders and she had no interest to go in. Apparently, her anxiety convinced your grandma also not to go in, but that didn’t stop us from braving the unknown and going in.
To be fair to Pet Bazaar, it wasn’t quite as bad as your mom thought it would be. That said, it did have a lot of snakes, scorpions, little tiny turtles, fish, and lizards. First order of business was the bathroom.
So there are three Florida Man’s working behind the counter. One of them had a vest and Crocodile Dundee-looking hat, and I had to image he was the “snake guy.” So, naturally, I lock in with #2 and ask if they have a “restroom” for my son — motioning to you because who could turn down a child?
“Uh, yea I think so” is what came out of #2, who kinda gave me “second-in-command hyena from Lion King” vibes. So he kind of point/shrugs to the back. So the three of us take a peek and see a door that looks more like a swinging door to a saloon with “Out of Order” sign taped to it. Two things come to mind. 1. this sign looks like it’s at least 10 years old and 2. I don’t think anything you’re going to do in there is going to make it look any worse than it probably already does. Plus, your mom isn’t here to hard-pass that option so “in you go.”
Sidebar #2: I’m too far in to turn this into it’s own post.
So you pee and come out and we go over to the fish. The third Florida Man is over there doing whatever Florida Man’s do when they work in a Pet Bazaar, and you say to him “do you have any red-tailed catfish?” Before I can even get out how obscure of a fish that probably is and how people don’t really have catfish for pets, #3 says, “yea we just got one in the other day.”
It’s literally the only catfish in the entire store and it just so happens to be a red-tailed catfish. This thing is maybe two inches long and just chilling in a little cave or castle or whatever fish like to hang out in.
OK I’m on board now. “How big do they get?” I ask.
“They can get up to about five feet,” he says… well, more accurately, “they can-uh get-tuh be about-uh five foot” is what I heard. I’m probably exaggerating but you won’t remember this when you’re older.
“They can actually get to be 16 feet,” was your reply. Feels like too wide of a delta, and part of me would have loved to just be a fly on the wall for your two’s conversation, but I steered the conversation to outgrowing the tanks and “oh hey what’s that over there? thanks for your time.”
OK trying to wrap up because I have a very insignificant point I’ll make to tie this thing back together.
We leave and go back to the other pet store, and as we pull up, owner rolls up and is unlocking the door 30 minutes after “open at 11.” This time, your mom and Memaw are feeling a little braver and decide they will go in.
This place is nothing but fish. No red-tailed catfish, but they have lots of other cool looking fish. Some look like pout-pout fish and others have all the neon colors you like to see. Others, unfortunately, didn’t make it from closing time to opening time, and Florida Man #4 just plucks him and takes him to the back, I’m sure for a beautiful funeral service.
One tank that stood out most to your mom and me was one where all the fish just kept darting to the left and to the right. Think of how schools of fish act in unison, only these fish just went left and right. It was really strange and funny and we made jokes about it leaving about what they must talk about everyday. Like, “hey Frank what’s on the agenda today?”
“Well, was thinking about going left for a bit. Then, hear me out, we go right for a bit. Then…”
“Go right?”
“You’re goddamned right, we’re going right, Todd. What else are we supposed to do, go up?!? Could you imagine?”
Your Brain
Son, I’ve decided that your brain is just a big fish tank. You have thoughts going this way and that way. I don’t think it’s quite like Todd and Frank’s tank, but I think there are just a lot of things floating around up there and most of them have to do with fish.
And, like a certain fish who lost her parents and met Nemo’s dad, things go in one ear and out the other like nothing I’ve ever seen. But here is the other thing about your brain… it’s super smart and it’s earnest, and I believe that you want to remember to do the things your mom and I ask you (for the most part). I just think you’re the kind of kid who sees his little life as an adventure and that is something I hope you keep forever.
I’m sorry for the times I get frustrated with you. As your dad, I feel like it’s my job to make you into the best version of yourself and sometimes that means I have to be hard on you. I also think because you’re the oldest like I was, that I’m trying to fix some of my mistakes through you and that isn’t always fair.
Son, I love your brain and I love your heart and even on the days where I get the most frustrated with you when your brain isn’t braining very good, you’re still my favorite eight year old in the whole world and I couldn’t be more proud to be your dad.
Love you, son.
Dad
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