We begin with fireworks. My daughter has never watched fireworks, so we kept her up late to watch them. As the anticipation rose, I realized that our daughter had no prior knowledge of what to expect. As the colors exploded overhead, she smiled and ooohed and aaahed. This was her one moment where from that point onward, she would know the anticipation we had felt. It was a singular recognition that these are the first impressions that will shape the rest of her life and that it was an honor and a privilege to be a part of that. Yes, that’s the best feeling.

Compare that to sedation and Novocaine. The next morning we woke her up and took her to the dentist so that she could have cavities filled (she unfortunately inherited deep crevices on her molars). There she was, knowing what to expect and worrying that she may throw up from the medicine (which she did before and led to a redo when she couldn’t drink the last time). But my wife was there with a medicine syringe and all was well. At least all was finished, the rest of the day was spent watching movies and desperately trying to explain why my daughter could not run through the house since even though she felt okay the fact was that she was wobbly and was on the verge of hitting every surface of our house. But it was over and the teeth are all fixed.

Which leads me to the next day and her four year old check-up. Now I knew that she would be getting a shot, so I prepped her for it by telling her how brave she was and that our dog doesn’t even flinch when he gets his shots. All of this coming from someone who has a great fear of needles. So there we were in the doctor’s office and they tell me she will be getting three shots and a finger prick to test her blood. I outwardly said no problem, but inside I was puking. After many tears, she was brave. What was unique was that at that moment, fear of needles and all, I would have taken a shot just to help her. I would have taken three shots if necessary.

All in all, life is good. Each moment of her life actually makes me think of my own. I am still scared to death of needles, but if my daughter can be brave, so can I. Sometimes, we all need some help to get us through our wobblies. And finally, our first moments are there to be loved and remembered, not feared. So there’s some parenting for you.

Move ahead an hour and I am standing in front of a class full of students expounding on film and wondering if chalk was getting on my sweater.  Oh duality of thoughts!  Don’t forget to discuss R.W. Paul and I wonder how many of my students are older than me.  At least that duality is something I have learned to handle.  I just hate it when I find my mind wandering as I’m talking to something totally unrelated to my discussion.

Later that same evening, my daughter has somehow managed to stay awake past her bedtime by almost 3 hours complaining of sore throat, not tired, thirsty, stomach hurts, where’s Gordon, more songs, finger hurts, and why is there an infinite amount of stars in the sky yet my ceiling only has 12.   My wife even suggested that our daughter was hallucinating, which does actually run in my side of the family.  At least I remember the man talking to me through the TV even if my mother said it was turned off.  The parent says I hope she is okay and nothing is wrong.  Your heart breaks because you know she can’t understand the experience to the fullest to be able to convey vital health information.  The child just wonders where my hallucinations went now that I fully know the experience and health information is the priority.

No matter the situation, you have those moments of clarity where you clearly see the split between child and adult.  I want a new Macbook Air and was downright giddy as it was introduced.  The child in me says shiny and cool, it’s mine!  The adult says shiny and cool, it could be mine!  Perhaps those moments do not apply to announcements from Apple.