Editor’s Note: Here, from the archives circa 2012, is gem worth re-reading!
My daughter knows I’m thinking about her because, every night, I move the turtle. Let me explain. One night our family watched a documentary about the life of a sea turtle. Afterwards, their little plastic toy turtle (named “Sparky”) became a focus of attention for us. We joked about his life and his journey and this led, first to some laughs, then a game. For some reason, we joked about the turtle hiding around the house.
On a night soon after we watched the movie, I put the turtle beside my eight-year-old daughter’s pillow while she slept. She woke up laughing and the game was on. Now, every night before she went to bed, she began hiding the turtle in my bed, or by my toothbrush, somewhere I would find it when I came to bed. Then, in my normal routine of checking on all the kids before I went to bed, I would hide it somewhere around her pillow.
The game has evolved now. Now the turtle has props and is no longer hidden. He is to be found on a table in her room, which she now refers to as the turtle table. (What did we use it for before?) One morning he’s sitting there, a huge pipe to his lips. One morning he has fingernail clippers to his little nails, another he’s reading Seth Godin’s Tribes. Sometimes, I find a note from “Sparky.” “Dear Sir, I don’t wish to be any trouble, but I should like a book for Christmas.” Yesterday, I found Sparky on my nightstand, sitting on the little toilet from my daughter’s dollhouse. When we saw each other the next morning, we both burst out laughing. There is this funny ritual between us.
As I write, I get the feeling this isn’t all that funny to other people. But that’s actually part of the point. It’s between my daughter and me. It’s been a way for me to connect with her. She loves it, I enjoy it, and it’s something we share. It’s a creation of shared imagination, a common joke. When this one’s over, I’m sure there will be others. But every night she knows I’m thinking of her when the turtle is moved.
It’s a small thing, yes. Every day is made up of these small things. Every day we as parents make hundreds of little choices that join together to make up who we are to our children. I could share some of my failures. There are plenty of them. But here’s this little thing I feel like is right in life. Moving the turtle.
I tend to over-think things, believing I have to have an elaborate plan to engage my kids. The truth is that elaborate plans can be great, but only when we follow through. Sometimes you just need to do something. Kids love being engaged. Do something!
As our kids get older, I think about potential disconnection more and more. When my wife and I see any signs of it (and we do, sometimes), we worry. So every thread connecting us to our kids is vital. Woven all together –Rich Mullins’ music and Andy Griffith; living room tents and whispered blessings; happy hymns and pillow fights; Advent prayers and soccer games; baptisms and turtles– these are the threads that make up our lives.
Are turtle games important? No, but she is. And she knows it.
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This is absolutely great! Hope to keep such an idea in mind if/when I have kids of my own.
Thanks, Hannah. Your when/if comment made me think of a time when my cute little was only 3 or so. I did the normal Uncle game fo saying that she should come home with Gina and me and be our little girl. She looked at me very seriously and said, “No, Uncle Sam, you have to dit your own tids!”
Sorry, having problems with my Disqus account. Maybe I should post this one more time? Nahhh.
Thanks, Hannah. Your when/if comment made me think of a time when my cute little was only 3 or so. I did the normal Uncle game fo saying that she should come home with Gina and me and be our little girl. She looked at me very seriously and said, “No, Uncle Sam, you have to dit your own tids!”
Ack! Should say “cute little niece.” Sheesh.
Lovely, Sam!
Thank you.
I love this story, Sam! One thing that still connects my son and me (he’s 31 now) began when he was a small boy who wanted to make lunch for me to take to work. When I unwrapped my sandwich later that day, I saw the imprint of his mouth where he had taken a bite out of it. It was as if to say, “Hey mom, I’m here with you. I’m thinking about you.” It made me smile and tear up at the same time, thinking of the delight he must have had in making lunch for me while trying to hide the mischievous twinkle in his eye. That scenario was repeated many, many times throughout his adolescence and teen years. Now he is married and lives several hundred miles away. Just last month while he was home for a visit, I asked him to make me a sandwich. Yep, there it was . . . a BIG bite mark this time. And we both smiled.
I LOVE that story, Brenda! Thanks for sharing it. Maybe I’m weak (OK, I am), but that gets me. Love love love it.
Thanks Sam. It gets me too.
Thanks Sam! A wonderful reminder as we seek to engage our little troop. Oh, by the way, I thought this post was rather funny!
Thanks Mark & Libbie (did you collaborate?), I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wrote it a while back and saved it for when we were going to launch Story Warren. It feels good to finally share it. 🙂 Blessings to you.
We have similar games in our house that involve finding blocks or books under our pillows or wondering for two days, “Where in the world are my slippers?”
I know that these are the days that will live forever in our memories. Treasure them up!
Amen to that, Julie.
Your daughter will never forget your fun turtle adventures nor will she forget the other ways you keep her aware of how important she is to you. You are a great dad, Sam. That is priceless.
Thanks, Aunt Missy.
She’ll definitely always remember it. My dad used to sing my sister and I “Bohemian Rhapsody” as a lullaby when my mom was gone at bedtime. We still joke about it.