Hi Dad.

Hi Dad.

The other night... I can tell by the enthusiasm you showed as you took your sweet time rolling out of bed, walking down the hall, and slowly opening my door, that you were angry. I mean, it was only 1:00 a.m. Remember that time you woke me up at 4:00 a.m. because we were going to the airport? Payback.

Yes. OK. That was a rough night. Certainly, eventful. And I would have done the same to mom, but she had to get up early for work. I was just giving you practice for when she’s on the Women’s Retreat, this weekend. 

But, seriously, thank you for cuddling with me for the next five and a half hours... on the floor... with all 30-pounds of me on your belly... You’re trying to teach me that apologies are OK, so yes - an apology is in order.

I am sorry for screaming my lungs out. Though, my voice can go higher and get much louder, you did respond within 90-seconds (that might be a record for you... yes, I’ve been keeping track). Not bad for just about getting into your REM cycle. And, I’m impressed that you didn’t say a word about my vocal acrobatics. No cussing. No grumbling. It was either you were too tired or that you love me so much that you just did what you needed to do.

OK. Now that I’ve apologized, I think you owe me an apology, too. After all, imitation is the greatest form of flattery.

That song you sang to me. The lyrics are, “Jesus loves me, this I know”, not “Jonah loves sleep, this I know”. You and Matt have been saying it all month long, it’s Simply Jesus. (See, I listen to you guys!). That was very rude and dare I say, sacrilegious. I’m hurt... and Jesus is, too.

And, if you could please apologize to my belly. I can’t help it that I am a strapping, growing young man with a healthy metabolism (more than I can say about you, old man). What I was trying to say between the screams and tears is, “cracker”. All I wanted was a cracker. I know that you graze for hours after I pretend to sleep... but I’m watching you. You eat. I starve. I mean, anything would have been fine at 1:00 a.m.. A piece of bread. Raspberries. A cookie. Fruit Loops. Pencils.

And for crying out loud, come on, I thought mom had made it clear that a bottle of milk usually does the trick. Oh, we were out of Almond Milk? Don’t you know Safeway is open 24 hours a day? And it’s within walking distance? What’s the deal? Just because your bedtime milk is in a glass bottle and mine is in a plastic one doesn’t make your milk any better than mine. Aren’t parents supposed to put their kids’ needs before their own?

So, next time... Almond Milk... $3.29 at Safeway... anytime... and I’d like it in the Dr. Brown bottle... the 4 oz. one... not the 8 oz. one... and, without the blue insert. Thank you.

I just needed to get all the feels out. I feel better now. Since you told mom that you wanted to be a better listener and not a fixer, thanks for listening. I feel heard.

Oh, and one last thing... I know it’s time-change weekend, and I need some extra beauty sleep. So I’ll let you know that I’m awake and ready to go at 4:30 a.m. (new time) on Sunday. I don’t want you to miss church.

Love,
Jonah