Mr. Christensen of Ridgefield, Washington is proud to say that he is perfectly normal, thank you very much.
Now his kids might disagree, in fact they might think their dad is quite strange. Sometimes he dances around the house with moves that make them cry, and not the good kind. Other times he sings loud and boisterous songs he makes up off the top of his head about whatever his kids were up to that day. Most of his songs make no sense, but sense isn’t to be expected in a dad who cheers embarrassingly loudly at soccer games, uses 90’s slang to be cool, and doesn’t understand the intricacies of emoji communication.
But there is one silly thing this dad does that seems to have paid off in some oddly fulfilling, emotionally satisfying, non-financially profitable inspiring way.
He reads to his kids in different character voices.
It’s unclear when the phenomenon started- but by the time these kids were old enough to handle the magical world of Harry Potter, reading in a boring dad voice simply did not suffice. This simple muggle father seems to have tapped into some kind of wizard power procuring his vocal Patronus, repelling the gawky nasal of his natural tone, and replacing it with all sorts of variations, pitches, and accents sure to offend many cultures of different lands.
As for these kids, they didn’t necessarily want it. They certainly didn’t ask for it. But the dad wand chose the kid wiz, and they’re stuck with him whether they like it or not (but they seem to like it!)
Having just wrapped up the Order of the Phoenix (the longest and most difficult read of the series) last night with the boys, they are anxious to find out what happens next (although it’s possible they already know, as the book is nearly 20 years old and someone in the extended family may have spoiled poor Dumbledore’s death).
It’s worth noting, this dad has grown up with these books as they were released, attended every midnight showing of every movie as it was released, and has listened to the Jim Dale audiobook versions more times than perhaps he is willing to admit. Is it possible that some of the voices imitate versions of on-screen actors or audiobook characters? Yes. Is it possible that those voices occasionally change throughout the story because he forgets what someone is supposed to sound like? Absolutely. Do these kids make sure to call him out on it when he gets a voice wrong? All the time.
But the fact that they do, means they’re not only paying attention to the story, but the characters and the narration, as well as how and what is being said. They’re engaged, attentive, and content.
It’s a time of bonding, creativity, wonder, excitement, and happiness. This dad LOVES reading to his kids.
Yes dad does silly voices, but he always has, and this odd little quirk has actually become quite useful. That’s not to say it’s easy, it’s actually quite challenging. Switching in and out of characters can really strain the brain, but it’s slowly become 2nd nature. Now if only someone would pay him to do it.
Often we’ll be sitting around and these kids will request a voice. “Dad, do Hagrid!” or “Dad, do McGonagall!” (those are some of the more fun ones to do). It’s always a blast.
More importantly, there’s only one first time with everything, and more than anything this dad feels honored to be able to share these stories for the first time with his children. He looks forward to reading to them as often as possible, and the wizarding world of Harry Potter continues to bring magic into the life of this family.
The story of my experimental lifestyle change of unplugging from my phone to recharge my life.
For the past month or so I’ve been experimenting with a new lifestyle:
I ignore my phone as much as possible.
Let me explain…
I Hate Cell Phones
I bought my first cell phone in 2007 at the age of 22 when I was in college. From the moment I walked out of that Cingular store til now, I’ve hated the idea of having a cell phone.
Up until that point in my life, I had never needed nor desired a device on my person that would put me at everyone’s beck and call anywhere, anytime. Up until that point, if anyone wanted to reach me, they could call my home or apartment phone and if I happened to be there, I would answer. If not, too bad, leave a message I’ll call you back whenever I get to it. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there was something freeing and liberating about this way of life. And it wasn’t unique as it’s how everyone lived an operated until some time in the 90’s when I remember my parents getting their first cell phones.
Don’t get me wrong, as a kid I was fascinated by the technology of cell phones. I was a master of the classic game “snake” on my mom’s Nokia. As a teenager I enjoyed calling my girlfriend from my home phone to her cell phone and chatting for hours, possibly wishing I had my own cell phone so I didn’t have to worry about my parents breathing on the other line listening to my inspiring, eloquent, love-captivating, flirtatious sweet nothings whispered through the electromagnetic radiation waves of technology.
Besides that, I don’t remember ever asking my parents for a cell phone or ever feeling like I had to have one. And for that, I’m grateful. I may have been part of the last generation of teenagers that spent our high school years happily without a cellular device.
After high school I spent 2 years in Ecuador as a missionary and when I came back to college in January of 2007… EVERYBODY HAD CELL PHONES. Apartment landlines became obsolete and I was forced to buy calling cards just to use it. As if I didn’t have enough financial stress as a poor starving college student, I caved and found myself buying a cheap flip phone on a basic plan, something like 250 minutes and 250 texts per month.
I reluctantly entered the next technological paradigm shift of my life.
Dumb Phones
Dumb phone, oh dumb phone, I miss you so,
Your screen was so grainy, your buttons so small,
The satisfying feeling of snapping you shut,
Your cheap plastic shell was more than enough,
Your camera was crappy, your service was bad,
Your buttons were clicky and sticky and sad,
But hey, I could text just about anyone,
With eyes closed, one handed, with only my thumb,
You served your purpose, no more and no less,
You felt no desire to technologically progress,
When “smart phones” arrived, therefore labeling you dumb,
You took no offense as you knelt to succumb,
And now, in a world where smart phones reign supreme,
Surrounded by videos, noise, GIF’s and memes,
I recall the sweet silence that felt just like home,
Of using a boring, plain, quiet dumb phone.
Smart Phones
Some time after college while working in my first job in 2012, I decided it was necessary for me to finally upgrade to a smartphone. An iPhone seemed like the logical choice, and while I’ve occasionally drifted into different android and Google phones over the years, iPhone has really been my solid foundation. And for a while, I was a sucker for anything and everything that had to do with the iPhone. I wanted the latest iPhone as soon as possible, the newest software, the best features. I would watch the Apple events and even download the beta versions of iPhone software updates to experience them first.
I was hooked. There was just something about having that little expensive rectangle in your pocket that affected the way I felt about my life. I became dependent on it. Addicted to it.
And not just the phone, but everything ON the phone. Apps, games, and social media. In a matter of almost no time at all, the distractions of everything I could do on my iPhone that kept me so connected with the world, actually disconnected me from the world and most importantly the people in my life around me. It became an escape, a dopamine fix, a place to temporarily sooth my shallow soul while I looked at everyone else’s glossy life and hoped for more comments and likes on my own shared social media.
Any feeling of pleasure I’ve ever derived from any app on my iPhone is very short lived and kept me coming back for more. I hated that his little device designed for communication became like an all-powerful evil genie, pretending to grant me wishes and trapping me in it’s lamp.
Smart phones are the epitome of phenomenal cosmic powers trapped in an itty bitty living space.
Dumb Parents
As I’ve become a parent heavily involved in my children’s lives and activities, I’ve had to learn to be more and more cautious about the use of my phone. I’ve seen way to many dance performances, touchdowns, and soccer goals from within the frame of my 6.1″ display. In my effort to capture the moment, I miss the moment, and I can never get that back. Sure I can watch it later on my screen, and maybe post all over social media for other’s to enjoy, and I know there’s a time and place for that, but… I felt like I was missing out on a lot of real time moments that would be more impactful if I would just put the phone down and take the experience in.
I needed to stop capturing moments in 1080p and live in moments of full HD. The resolution from watching something happen live with my own eyes beats any kind of resolution replayed in 4k, 8k, or even a 120k screen.
Also, I hope I’m not the only parent who experiences this, but one of the negative effects of posting photos and videos of your children to social media is that your children will start to think that EVERY photo and video you take will end up on social media, and they (smartly) don’t want that! We’ll be on a family walk, and the kids will start saying or doing something funny, and I’ll pull out my phone to capture the moment, but as soon as they see that I’m recording, they’ll stop and insist I delete whatever I recorded because they don’t want it shared to the world. Most of the time, in those kinds of moments especially, we as parents have no intention of posting anything, we just want to capture a fun family moment. But the moment is ruined by a fear of potential social media posting, and the result is we aren’t able to capture what would have otherwise been a funny thing to enjoy again later as a family.
How many goofy and silly pictures and videos did we all take as children and teenagers? We felt free to be ridiculous, creative, and funny on our 80’s and 90’s camcorders because we figured nobody would ever see it but our ridiculous, creative, and funny family. The idea that any of that could be potentially shared with the world on a public platform wasn’t even a thought.
But now, it is. And it’s ruining some of those moments.
On top of that, there’s also an emotional effect that occurs inside me that connects me to my child, in that moment, where nothing else matters but my full attention and focus on my child. A smile and a cheer from the sideline or from the audience, feelings of pride and happiness expressed without distraction or interruption. Allowing myself to be fully present.
Then there’s the example I set to my children as a parent. How often do they walk into a room and try to talk to me and I’m on my phone? I may even be doing something productive and healthy, like listening to a good audiobook or uplifting music, or catching up and responding to important family messages and events. It doesn’t matter what it is, I have to pause or stop and say to my child “sorry, what was that?” They don’t know what I’m doing on my phone, they just see me on my phone, and in their eyes, mom and dad are always on their phones, and they will follow that example when they someday get a phone.
I have a teenage daughter who has a phone and preteen son who has a watch. Now these are very limited devices and can pretty much only text and call, NO INTERNET WHATSOEVER, but even still, they are drawn to them. We can’t keep them off them! We give them a little bit of freedom with a communication device and they very quickly feel entitled to use these devices however they damn well please.
And why not? We’re kidding ourselves as parents if we think that we can expect our kids to not want to be on phones or communication devices constantly if we ourselves are on them constantly.
Smart Parents
I finally decided it’s time to be smart, and I hope it’s not too late. I don’t want my kids to see me on my phone anymore. I don’t even want to carry it with me when I leave the house. Maybe if they can see that I don’t need to be on my phone all the time, they don’t need to either.
I understand that especially as my kids get older, more and more of their friends will have phones at younger and younger ages. My third-grader informs me that kids his age on the bus regularly watch episodes of “The Last of Us” on HBO Max on their phone. I’m in a loosing game here if I think my example can compete with that of their peers.
But at least it’s something. Maybe they’ll remember me as an always present non-distracted father, maybe they won’t.
More than that, I want to be accountable to myself. I want to eliminate the distractions for myself. I want to empower myself to function in the world I live in without being so heavily reliant on or addicted to my phone.
So how do I do this?
After some research on the internet of how other people have taken similar approaches, I landed on the best answer for me.
Apple Watch.
I learned that I could leave my iPhone at home, or even turned off and tucked away in my drawer, and still have a fully functional communication device in the form of my Apple Watch.
For a few years now, Apple Watches have had the ability to have their own cellular number or companion connection through an iPhone to function away from your iPhone. Due to cost and unnecessary hassle, I never bothered to look into it much. It seemed like a luxury service. But now that I was considering using my Apple Watch as my main communication device, this seemed like a viable option. I did some research, found a very affordable way to make this happen (US Mobile), and now I barely touch my phone. I answer all calls and texts, listen to music, audiobooks, podcasts, access maps, etc on my Apple Watch, without the need for my phone close by.
I ignore my phone as much as possible.
There’s some sacrifices (if you can call them that). No more sitting and scrolling through Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, or YouTube. No Netflix, Prime, Max, Hulu, or Disney+ whenever I want. The longer I keep my iPhone tucked away at my bedside, the easier it is to ignore it.
The biggest drawback is if you have any texts from your green bubble friends, Apple being the way it is, they won’t come through to your Apple Watch without your iPhone nearby. So occasionally I do need to turn my iPhone on and check messages from my long lost android and google phoned friends. Incidentally I’ve learned how few people I know and regularly communicate with that DON’T have an iPhone. So this hasn’t been a dealbreaker for me.
The only other drawback is taking photos. If I’m out and about with my Apple Watch, I’m unable to take any photos or videos. At first, I was really worried about this, especially with all of my kids in sporting and dancing events. I’ve always been the screaming dad behind the camera filming my children doing every little awesome amazing thing.
Now, after a little over a month, it’s totally fine and I addressed my feelings about that earlier in this post. If I feel that strongly about taking photos or videos, my wife has her iPhone or I could bring my phone along for photos. Or I could go buy an actual camera (something I’d love to do!). I’ve basically learned for myself that I don’t need to take as many photos and videos as I think I do.
Other than that, if there’s something that I need to accomplish on my iPhone, I’ll just do it on my iPad. Or my MacBook. I go to my home office and do those things. I typically don’t carry those devices around the house.
Unplug to Recharge
I realize this lifestyle change just plain won’t work for everyone. For example, thus far I’ve failed to mention that I do actually have a day job that requires me to use the phone a lot, and I’m fortunate in that my job provides me a separate work phone to do that. I’ve had past jobs where I’ve had to use my personal phone for work purposes, and ditching my phone at home all day trying to operate on a watch just wouldn’t be possible no matter how much I might want to.
I do still post to social media when I upload a song, or a post like this one. I do enjoy using Marco Polo still to connect with friends. This isn’t 100% all or nothing solution.
This post is less about the means and more about the problem I was facing and feeling, and how I chose to solve it. And I’m far from perfect at it. I still have to watch myself constantly and stay vigilant.
I’ve read that if you keep a phone plugged in at 100% capacity at all times, this accelerates chemical aging and degrades the battery’s capacity faster. Today’s cell phones have protections built in to prevent this, but we’ve all had past phones with rapidly declining battery capacity.
I don’t think we’re much different. The more we stay plugged in to our phones, these lighted screens in front of our eyeballs, we drain our capacity. To function, to succeed, to get through the day with enough energy to survive. I’ve been raising 3 kids for 13 years now, and it’s utterly exhausting. I falsely believed that the solution or at least minor relief to my exhaustion during or at the end of the day was to relax and look at my phone for a while, but now that I’m doing that much much less and instead finding other things to fill my time, I am less exhausted. I feel more capable. My capacity seems to have increased.
The more I unplug, the more I’m recharged.
More than anything, I’m allowing myself to be alone with my thoughts more. Heaven knows there’s nothing wrong with listening to a good book or music or podcast, and I generally still do that quite a bit. But more often than not nowadays, it’s just me and my brain. Doing the dishes. Making dinner. Mowing the lawn. Cleaning the garage. Playing with my kids. All without the distraction and buzzing of a phone in my pocket.
I don’t have studies and I don’t have science or facts, but I’m pretty sure that sitting on the toilet without a phone not only enhances pooping efficiency, but also enhances brain stimulation and activity, lowers your water and electric bills, saves the whales, cures cancer, and slows climate change.
I’m still in my experimental phase of this lifestyle change and it’s safe to say that thus far, I think the experiment is going well.
I was terrified. Of being a dad. Of feeling helpless at the hospital. Of the earth-shattering life change that was coming.
Then, all of a sudden, pure joy. The world stopped as I watched a tiny head and delicate body immerge from an opening that should defy the laws of physics. It shouldn’t be possible. But somehow it was, and I saw it happen. The image is burned in my brain and imprinted on my soul forever.
A child. My child. A taste of creation.
I had never seen anything so incredible in my life. A healthy, beautiful, baby girl.
My amazing wife. How the hell did she just do that? My love and appreciation for her as a woman, my wife, and now a brand new mother, deepened. Everyone faded away and it was just me, her, and our newborn baby.
“Dad, do you want to cut the cord?” a male voice asked from somewhere.
“Huh? Dad?” I mumbled, my eyes glued to my daughter. My DAUGHTER. I’m a DAD. Wait, who was speaking? I really wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t involve staring at this child.
I re-awoke to the reality that there was a doctor in the room and a nurse standing next to me holding up a tray of sterilized surgical instruments, indicating to me what looked like a small pair of scissors. Honestly, I didn’t really want to, but I was so hypnotized by what was happening that I unwittingly just went along with whatever he said. He probably could have asked me for my wallet and the keys to my house and I would have given them to him. I grabbed the little sterilized scissors from the sterilized tray, he pointed where to cut, and I cut, and set the now unsterilized scissors back on the sterilized tray. Oops, I guess I wasn’t supposed to do that I thought to myself as my eyes caught a quick glimpse of panic in the doctor’s face staring down at his now tainted tray. Well, he’ll figure it out because that’s all the energy I could put towards anything else in that moment. My focus returned to my family.
My FAMILY. No longer just my wife and I. Just like that we were now a family of three.
Little cries filled the room as the nurse handed our baby girl to my wife. A precious moment. This tiny human, miraculously grown and carried inside her body for the past 9 months, now being held in mother’s arms.
“Hello there” my wife says as she embraces our daughter, the first of many consoling hugs to come. Already connected and familiar, just seeing each other in a new light.
What happens next is something that I’ll never forget. Something that will grow to define our daughter for years to come.
She’s placed on a scale, poked, prodded, and cleaned up. Nurses lovingly work hard to making sure our baby is healthy and strong. Often babies cry big gulping cries when all this is happening (this is exactly what my boys did when they were born a few years later). They’re naked, cold, and scared. But none of this seems to bother our little girl.
She doesn’t make a sound. I get up close, my first real good look at this heavenly creature, and I see these big beautiful eyes. How can her eyes be this big? Immediately it’s her most defining feature. These eyes are darting all around the room, taking in everything she can from her surroundings. I know she only sees light, dark, and blurry shapes, but I get the sense that she is not going to waste any time to take in and take on the world around her.
She’s perfect. And in that perfect moment, her eyes tell me exactly who she is. It’s as if she was saying “Hello daddy, I hope you’re ready to show me all the beauty here on this earth, because I can’t wait to see it.”
Feelings of terror resurface like waves pounding on a warm beach. Am I ready for this? I have no earthly idea. But maybe this heavenly human will teach me to overcome my earthly ideas.
We spend the next few hours feeling all the joy and fear of new parenting. A strange powerful feeling enters into me. It starts small, but slowly electrifies my body. I’ve felt slivers of this before, for my wife, my family and siblings, my baby sister, and even other small children. But that feeling really pales in comparison to this. What is this?
It resembles the feeling of love, but it’s more than that. Connection. Belonging. Furious and raging. Then gentle and soothing. She is a part of us. A part of me. Something that can never be separated. The feeling was expansion, like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes that day. All of my heart. The pain and the elation. The sorrow and the happiness. The fear and the fierce. She tugged on every emotion. She picked up the violin of my heart strings and let me know she would not only become an expert musician, but she would turn this into a symphony.
We named her Zoe. Can’t explain it other than it just felt right.
Zoe Dance Christensen
Beauty Mark
When Zoe was four years old, my wife took her and our two boys to the zoo. It was a weekday and I was at work. Sometime in the middle of the day I got a stressed phone call from my wife that Zoe had climbed onto a big rock and fell, cutting her forehead just above the left eyebrow. It was a deep cut and there was a lot of blood. I left work and met up with my family at the urgent care.
There was a panicked calm on my wife’s face as she dealt not only with the stress and sadness of the situation, but also 2 little boys clueless to what was going on. She took the boys home and I stayed with Zoe to meet with the doctor who would let us know what the best course of action was.
Stitches.
While we waited for the doctor, I chatted with Zoe about what happened. She said she climbed on top of a rock to see something and then lost her balance and fell. I asked her if it hurt when she fell, she gave me a 4-year look of duh dad, of course it hurt, what a dumb question. It was a dumb question, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to ask it. I’ve never cut myself so deep to need stitches, I live life much too cautiously, so I genuinely wanted to know how it felt. At the age of 4 she had experienced an injury that I, at age the age of 30, had never experienced, and I was curious.
Overall, she had cried her cries and was in a good mood. The doctor came in and let us know that she would need some stitches. Zoe, a much braver soul than I, sat nervous but calm in the chair while the doctor went to work. I watched her face while each stitch went in. I could see her reaction to the pain and her tears leaking out slowly as he went. But she endured it well and within seconds of completion, jumped up at me for a hug. I was truly impressed. Wow, how did she do that?
9 years later, a tiny scar remains. Over the years, I started calling it her “beauty mark.” Obviously she is beautiful with or without the scar. It’s more of a reminder of the beautiful life that she lives. Zoe is adventurous, daring, always wanting to try new things, and not afraid to get hurt along the way.
The reminder really isn’t for her, although it can be if she wants. But her memory of that day has faded. She now only knows what we have told her, and seen the evidence and photos. No, the reminder is for someone like me. Someone who looks at her. That there is beauty in imperfection, and she is proof of that.
Her scars don’t make her more beautiful (that would be quite impossible!) but rather her scars show anyone that sees her or spends time with her that Zoe knows how to live, and that life is beautiful. All of it. Including the painful parts.
Matilda
When Zoe was 9, she surprised us when she expressed interest in wanting to try out for a musical production our local theater group was putting on of “Matilda the Musical, Junior.” She had been involved in dance for a few years, living up to her middle name, and put on a few performances with her dance studio, but she hadn’t yet showed an interest in theater. Since my wife and I both grew up doing theater, we of course encouraged her.
Now this was during the early years of COVID. So auditions for Matilda were held virtually. First she submitted a song and a monologue. Now I knew my girl could sing, I’d heard her many times and she had even sung with me a few times on my YouTube channel. Singing with Zoe is one of my favorite things to do! But I did not know the full extent of her ability to be a little expressive sassy convincing actor! My wife says that Zoe inherited my facial expressions and mannerisms so combine that with her inherited gift of dance from her mom and Zoe’s outgoing and explosive personality and, well, we may have created a theater monster!
She blew us and the directors away with a great audition tape and then virtual callbacks. It was her first show audition and she was cast in the ensemble AND Matilda understudy! Wow! We did not expect that for her first show! For the next few months we dropped Zoe off every week to rehearse. Because of COVID, we were unable to enter the building and watch any rehearsals whatsoever. So we really had no idea how things were going besides listening to her practice at home.
When Zoe wants something, she will work incredibly hard at it and give 110%. As Matilda’s understudy, she had the opportunity to perform one show as Matilda, and we were so nervous and excited. Performing on stage and especially playing a main role is incredibly nerve wracking! I’ve been there, but not at the age of 9!
It’s another one of those moments burned into my brain. I’ll never forget Zoe entering the stage, all eyes turn to her, she literally steps up onto a box, the center of attention, and she starts to sing. Solo. I’m sitting close enough that I can see her shaking, I hear the nervous pauses in her voice and breath. I’m on the edge of my seat. Is she going to make it through? Of course she does. We applause. I’m crying cuz my heart to tears valve broke a long time ago.
I’m so proud of my baby girl. She is so brave. I’m in awe of her.
Zoe singing her solo “Quiet” from Matilda the Musical.
She sang with heart. She performed with confidence. And she had a blast doing it. For the next few years, theater became her thing.
Heart
Look I could go on and on gushing about my daughter. Music, dance, theater, piano, saxophone, flute, cross country, basketball, track… It really doesn’t matter, if it’s something new and there’s a chance Zoe can experience it, she will, and nobody can stop her. Her talent, creativity and imagination knows no bounds.
She has incredible heart.
If you’re lucky enough to know her, you don’t need me to tell you any of this. You already know. Her eyes to heart valve is wide open. One look and you see exactly who she is. She’s your friend. She can talk with you. Whether you’re 5 or 50, she is fun to be around.
I love being with her. I love giving her rides to dance or church activities. Sometimes we chat. Sometimes we sing Taylor Swift songs. Sometimes she reads in silence and I just enjoy being next to her.
Today, my baby girl, my little buddy, my cuteness wonder, today… she turns 13. I feel like she’s already been a teenager for a while now, she is so grown up. But today it’s official.
I’m still that same terrified father. I have no idea what comes next or what to expect. But I do know Zoe. And that’s reassuring.
Because Zoe lives with her eyes and heart wide open.
It’s the early morning of January 17th, 2025, and my head cold won’t let me sleep. As my snotty tissues pile up by my bedside, my mind wanders to memories with my son.
“It’s not every day you’re young man turns 11” -Hagrid
Yes, it’s my son’s birthday today. And rather than subject my sleeping wife to a trumpeting elephant, I thought I’d come downstairs and write down a few thoughts about Jett.
What a tremendous love I have for this boy. Earlier this week in a post I shared a story about Jett’s last minute hesitation to attend 5th grade camp last year. While that was quite emotional and heart-breaking, watching him dissolve into tears out of fear of leaving his safe place he calls home, at the end of the day, he went to camp and loved it.
The journey from cautious to confident has been the continually unfolding story of Jett’s life. A journey that will only progress as he approaches his teenage years and beyond.
From before he was born, there was a lot of caution surrounding Jett. After several visits to the OBGYN during pregnancy, we were told that Jett didn’t seem to be growing at the same rate of most babies. They were worried about some disease that causes this, the name of which escapes me (and I’m not about to go wake up my wife and ask her right now- I might as well poke a sleeping bear, already sleep deprived from her growling geyser snot gushing husband). While I don’t remember some of the technical details, I do remember feeling concerned. Jett was our 2nd child and we had only been parents to his big sister for a little over a year at this point. For that sister, everything about the birth went fairly smooth (as much as it can for a first time experience, anyways).
As it got closer to the due date in January 2014, out of an abundance of caution, it was recommended that we schedule our son to be induced 2 weeks prior to the due date. So, for the first and only time with our unborn child, we chose a birthday. January 17th, 2014. I guess that took away some nerves about rushing to the hospital, but gave us pause about our sweet son being born healthy and a tad bit early. Many prayers were said at the time for the health and safe arrival of our 1st son.
The birthday came, and after just a few hours in the hospital, my incredible wife gave birth to a beautiful boy. He was so tiny! 5 lbs 5 oz. He got only a few seconds to snuggle with mom until nurses, and myself, noticed that he was starting to turn blue. They pulled him out of the room and put him on some oxygen. I tagged along with baby boy.
We were reassured by doctors and nurses that he was going to be just fine, and that he may need a few days in the NICU to make sure it continued that way. So that’s what we did. We basically hung out at the hospital for a few days, while our tiny infant son lay in the NICU, with his cool shades and jaundiced skin chilling under some bilirubin lights. Of course we went in as often as we could to hold him, feed him, and admire him. Whatever disease concerns there were that resulted in our baby boy’s size, were quickly tested for and dismissed. He was a perfectly healthy tiny baby boy.
With all of our children, my wife and I had generated lists of potential names we liked, but we always felt we needed to see their faces and test the names out. I’m sure I have my list still somewhere, but it doesn’t matter. The only name that suited him, was Jett.
I had never heard the name before my wife mentioned it, and while it is still fairly unique, I’ve since met many other Jett’s over the past 11 years.
But there’s nobody quite like our Jett.
Soon after he turned one, we bought a toddler toy basketball hoop with little basketballs he could hold and throw. He figured out how to throw the ball into the basket pretty quickly, and was quite good, if I do say so myself. We would spend hours sitting in the family room playing with those basketballs. Like most boys, he loved any kind of ball. My wife would walk him through the grocery store and he would point at the different spherical shaped produce and yell excitedly “Ball! Ball!” It was a sign of his future love of sports and his natural athleticism.
Sometime before Jett turned 2, an unexpected challenge surfaced as he started to grow a clinging attachment to me. He always wanted me to hold him. Constantly. It became quite an annoyance that if we ever went anywhere and did anything, I was always holding Jett. If there was some party or gathering with friends, you’d find me off in a corner holding and entertaining Jett. If I were asked to give some talk or sing in church, the second I would stand up and walk to the front, he would scream and cry for me. For a while, as part of a church calling, I had to attend other wards on Sunday, some of them out on the San Juan Islands in Washington State, so Jett was my little traveling buddy and we’d spend the day together riding ferry boats. At the time, it was a struggle having Jett constantly holding my side. Now, of course, I look back with fondness at all the time we got to spend together. I sure miss my crying, clinging, cautious, baby boy.
Caution. Jett was always very cautious. In 2015, a Pixar movie came out called “The Good Dinosaur,” If you’ve seen the movie, the main character, a young dinosaur named Arlo, timid and nervous by nature, was a perfect description of our sweet son. We may have even called Jett our little Arlo for a little while. With anything Jett tried or did, he was always cautious. Often scared. It was difficult to get him to do anything he hadn’t done before without a lot of smiling encouragement from mom, dad, or cousins and friends his age. And even then, he was often the only one that wouldn’t do something if he didn’t want to.
In 2017 we went on a trip to Disneyland. At age 3, there weren’t many rides Jett could do or wanted to do. We thought that the Tow-Mater truck ride in Cars Land would be perfect. You sit in a little tractor and go around in circles. Nope, he did not like that at all and screamed the entire time. In 2023, another Disneyland trip at age 9, this time with some encouraging cousins, I was able to watch his caution turn to confidence, as he decided to go on the Guardians of the Galaxy (Tower or Terror) ride. I accompanied him and as soon as we sat down on the ride, got strapped in, and started to move, all of a sudden Jett decided he did not want to be there. Unfortunately it was too late to do anything about it, and for the next few minutes I sat, holding my screaming and terrified son, and we dropped several stories over and over. My heart ached as my son was forced to endure what probably seemed like torture at the time. However, as we exited the ride and the crying ceased, his cousins approached and asked him how he liked it. He was honest and said he didn’t like it, but I could see a hint of a smile on his face, somewhat proud of himself for overcoming something difficult.
Over these past few years, I’ve watched Jett grow into a bold kid. He will still approach what he wants to do with caution, but all it takes is a little taste of success or realization of enjoyment, and it’s like a switch that flips in his head. All of a sudden, he’s the most confident kid you’ll ever meet.
In 2021, we decided to get Jett involved in flag football. I had never played football (besides elementary school recess and yearly turkey bowl events), but we enjoyed watching it together. I’ll never forget the first time he played. I wasn’t sure what to expect. At age 7, I imagined the rules of football would be complicated. Jett’s team had a few practices to get themselves organized, and then all of a sudden it was game time! In his very first game, within the first few minutes, Jett was handed the ball and he took off for a touchdown. I got it all on camera.
I was somewhat shocked! Where did that come from? All caution thrown to the wind, and there was this confident kid striding down the field like a pro! I know it’s just a kids game and I’m absolutely an over-enthusiastic yelling parent, but in that moment it was less about the points he scored and more about the boost of confidence I could see in his face. He was good at this. And he showed it over and over again throughout the season.
Since then I’ve watch Jett excel in flag football, soccer, basketball, and pretty much anything involving a ball, his 1 year old toddler love of balls perfectly foreshadowing the atmosphere of confidence and competence in any sporting activity he touches.
As much as I could go on and on about Jett and his boldness in sports, I’ve also seen him grow from caution to confidence in other ways. I’ve watched him make new friends, learn new hobbies like drawing, piano playing, and taking on the Rubik’s cube, and I’ve witnessed him fearlessly try many other new things as they come. He may not like the new things he tries sometimes, and he might even still be somewhat cautious at first, but his tenacity and determination once he has found something he enjoys, is unmatched.
Still inside this bold kid of mine is a tender heart, an anxious desire for home and peace. Inside this hilarious kid of mine is a stand up comedian, a scholar, an always on time hard worker. Inside this sweet kid of mine is a loving brother, a kind son, and a dependable friend.
I’m so lucky to have him as my son. He keeps me on my toes. Always asks to play with me. Always wants to be active and moving. Just like I look back and think about the kid Jett has been til now, wishing it lasted longer, I know I’ll look back again in a few years at the young man he is now, and wish I had the ability to slow time down. To stretch out every moment of throwing a football, watching him play soccer, chatting in the car, playing Rocket League together, or reading Harry Potter to him at night.
I firmly believe that there’s nothing more fulfilling in life than being a parent, especially to a wonderful, amazing, bold, cautiously confident child, like Jett.
The bold journey of cautious to confident is an ongoing one. We all have different levels of caution. Some of us enjoy throwing it to the wind, others cling to it for dear life. But somewhere in there is growth, learning, self-confidence, and happiness, and as we all embark on this journey differently, keep in mind that caution keeps us grounded, confidence gives us wings, and both are needed for a safe journey into the bold.
Occasionally as a family, we get together in a “quiet” (just go with it for a second) setting like our living room, and attempt to sit calmly (haha) on the couch to have a little family pow wow. Sometimes we’ll watch a quick spiritual video of some kind, or we’ll read scriptures, or sometimes just discuss what’s going on with everybody that week.
When I say a few minutes, it really is a few minutes before the kids start throwing couch pillows, sitting on each others faces, or laughing uncontrollably at something someone said which all turns into wrestling on the floor.
Sounds crazy, I know… 🙂
Every now and then, unprovoked by my wife and I, we’ll get some genuine comments and questions from the kids. I love it when it happens because it means that our home has become, at least in that tiny moment, a place where our child can feel comfortable speaking his mind and being vulnerable enough to ask sincere questions from his heart.
Our son Jett, who just happens to be turning 11 this week, is an amazing boy. He doesn’t often speak his mind or show sincere emotion, but when he does, you know it’s real.
I’ll give a quick example. At the beginning of this last school year, Jett and his fellow 5th graders were getting ready to go to 5th grade camp. They would be gone for several days, camping in cabins with their classmates and school teachers. Jett was excited to go, and didn’t show any hesitation at all. We got everything packed up, and the morning of the first day, as we were about to head out the door to drop him off at the school with all of his camping gear, something inside him unleashed. Something he hadn’t even hinted towards, and my wife and I were somewhat surprised at what was going on. He was in tears as he told us over and over that he didn’t want to go. That he was scared. That he didn’t want to be away from home without us. That home was where he felt safe, and he didn’t want to leave that. We had no idea he was feeling this way. And it was true, as a 10 year old boy, he had never spent the night anywhere else without us, or some immediate family member that he knew and trusted. This would be the first time he would be “on his own” for several nights in a row in a strange new place.
Long story short, after some emotional and difficult conversations, while sitting on the curb outside the school with all of the other kids on the buses ready to go, and with some strong encouragement to him on my part, he ended up going. Of course, he had a blast and was glad he went, as were we.
The reason I share that quick story is to speak to Jett’s tender heart. While he keeps getting older and is becoming more and more guarded against his parents, and less willing to share his true feelings with us, he’s still got a soft spot for his safe place he calls home.
Ok, back to our family pow wow. I can’t even remember exactly what we were discussing at the time, but whatever it was, Jett decided to ask: “How do I even know that what you’re saying is true? What if you’re just making it up? How do we know what anybody says about anything is true? Any story that anyone tells about something else, or somebody else who isn’t alive anymore, or that happened a long time ago, how can we actually know if it happened or not? People could just be making things up.”
I had to take a minute as I realized my son was not just making jokes and being silly, he was sincere. He was speaking about real concerns from his heart. I don’t know that I gave him a very good answer in the moment, I probably said something about how the Gift of the Holy Ghost helps us know the truth of all things, and the only way we can know truth is by learning, studying, and prayer. At least that’s been my experience.
But more than my answers, I was fascinated and pleased at the wonderful questions my son was asking. I have no idea what prompted them, but in that moment I was proud that he felt the need to ask, that he felt home was a safe space in that moment to open up.
This prompted me to think about the importance of asking questions.
Video Games
Have you ever played a role player game? My son Jett loves this game called The Legend of Zelda. I’ve watched him play, and it’s really quite fun. It’s essentially a story that you get to play out. There are missions to accomplish, items you need to collect, and enemies you need to thwart. It’s an open world game where you can pretty much go anywhere you want. If you really wanted, you could wander around aimlessly for hours.
However, if you’d like to actually progress through the story of the game, you need to interact with the NPC’s, the Non-Player Characters. These characters can be quest-givers, vendors, companions, or even enemies. These interactions contain a lot of questions. Questions posed by the NPC, or by your character, something to help guide you on your way and dropping little hints for whatever you need to do next. By interacting with these NPC’s, you then discover clues about what you need to do next and where you need to go.
Simply said, asking questions is how you level up. It’s how you learn. It’s how you discover things you otherwise might not have noticed or thought about. And the more questions you have, the better you can progress. Until eventually, you beat the game.
I’ll be honest, I don’t have a lot of patience with these kinds of video games. I find myself too often wandering aimlessly trying to figure things out myself before I end up getting stuck, frustrated, and just quit.
Yikes am I relating video games to life? I guess video games can actually be helpful. I can see my wife rolling her eyes at the notion… (by the way, the only reason I know anything about the rules of football is because of Madden ‘94 on the Super Nintendo)
Ask Questions
I’m sure we’ve all been in this scenario, I know I have a hundred times: Usually a school or a work setting. Somebody opens up an opportunity to ask questions about a topic. In my brain, tons of questions are firing off, whether from a lack of understanding or paying attention or a desire to discuss more, I have questions… but I say nothing. I hold my tongue. I wait to see if maybe somebody else in the room will ask the question I have. I’m embarrassed to ask the question. Although I look around the room, and I get the sense that other people have the same concern or question, I still don’t want to put myself out there. I’d rather stay silent than give myself an opportunity to learn. Finally, some brave soul does decide to ask the question and I’m glad that I didn’t have to put myself out there. I sure would have felt stupid asking that question, and now I could pretend like everyone else that I knew the answer the whole time.
Yet there is something admirable in that person who asked the question. They understood how to level up and just needed to ask.
What’s the best way to behave on a first date?
Ask questions.
What’s the best way to sell a product or service?
Ask questions.
What’s the best way to understand and connect with your spouse?
Ask questions.
What’s the best way to understand anything you don’t understand?
Duh, ask questions. (Side note: Those last 2 questions are in no way connected…)
I don’t know why we are so afraid to ask questions sometimes. To put ourselves out there and be vulnerable just for a minute. To not care how people might judge us because there’s something we don’t understand.
Questions are like a secret super power to getting through life. A hidden key to unlock an unseen door. A tool that if used correctly and sincerely, can chisel and shape you and the people you talk to into stronger, more capable and connected versions of yourselves. You might even reveal truths and life experiences that were before hidden in plain sight. And you might empower someone within ear shot who maybe isn’t quite ready to ask questions, or be vulnerable, but is now one step closer to leveling themselves up.
Don’t you love it when somebody asks you questions? When somebody wants to know how you’re doing, and engages with you in conversation about your life? It feels good. It’s fulfilling. And when you also respond with questions, and allow others to open up, it creates this open environment where people can build a connection.
As the great philosopher of our time, Taylor Swift, has said (or rather, sang- from her Midnights album): “…it’s just a question.”
It’s all easier said than done. Myself included.
And once again, I’m glad I have my children in my life to remind me of the simple importance of just asking questions.
🎵 Ba da da da da da daaaaa da da da daaaaaaa 🎵 (to the tune of Super Mario finishing a level)
Mikey He Writes It 