Dear Son,
Sorry we couldn’t get to the little one’s birthday party Sunday. That was a great idea, having the party at the Atlanta Zoo. Gracious, with all her cousins there, you folks must have had your hands full.
Can you believe she’s four? It seems only a few months ago, the two of you left for Kazakhstan to bring that precious child home. Remember the six weeks there when you learned about her country, about the people who ran the home where she was being raised? Remember the cold? Hey, I wasn’t even there and I can remember almost every moment you shared with me – the snow, the other children in the home, her caretaker who was so nice to you. Could it have possibly been that long ago?
The thing I remember most about that trip to make my granddaughter part of my life was the laptop computer. That was one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. I remember how every day you’d put the laptop in her playpen with the video camera attached and connect to the internet. I’d talk everyday to her; she’d coo; we bonded. I know the other grandparents are upset she bonded to me more than they, but, hey, I’m the one who figured out how to bridge 11,000 miles.
Four years old, imagine that!
I’m sorry we couldn’t get together Friday night. Your brother and I wanted to get together with you, but we missed connecting. Since he was going to be in Germany and I couldn’t be at the birthday party Sunday afternoon (you do remember your dad preaches on Sunday?) we wanted to share some time and give the little one a present. But it wasn’t to be.
Instead, we went out to eat with them. Afterward, back at his house, he introduced me to that video game: Katamari. You should play me sometime. Maybe you shouldn’t; turns out I’m really good at it.
While I was mastering that game and, later in the evening, humiliating your brother with the dexterity of my video gaming skills, he told me why you couldn’t share the evening with us.
Seems you decided to pack my granddaughter up and shuffle her off to some babysitter. Seems you told your brother you wanted to spend time with your wife, to take her on a date. Seems your brother interjected, “But, dad’s going to be here.” Seems you replied, after mulling it over for a few minutes, “I really want to spend some time with my wife.”
Listen to me son, and listen well. I’m sure I missed a lot at that party in the pavilion at the Atlanta Zoo. I’m sure the little one was wide-eyed at the pile of presents coming her way. (Four is the best age for that.) And I’m sure, because the other grandparent’s are unable to be as restrained as I, she was absolutely spoiled rotten. Most likely the amount of money given that child in presents was far beyond lavish.
None of them, son, will come close to the gift you gave your child. It’s the gift you gave her Friday night when you chose her mother over me and your brother. I hope in years to come you continue to give your daughter the gift you gave her last Friday. The greatest gift any dad can give his child, my son, is for his child to see her daddy loves her mother.
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