Came home today to find my daughter standing at a sewing machine, creating a fuzzy pillow for a friend’s birthday.
It’s pictured above. I was dazzled.
I love being a father, and while I often bemoan the passing of time, one thing I dig is observing my daughter and son as their skills and abilities progress. I mean, if I’m being honest, I collected a fair number of homemade birthday and Father’s Day presents that … eh … might have been tie stands. Or ashtrays. Something. And I loved those, because they were original and unique and symbolize who my kids were at certain points in their existences.
But now, with Casey 14 and Emmett 11, the blossoming of (non-sports) talent is breathtaking. Casey’s sewing, for example—I mean, that’s a helluva pillow, and after she posted it on Instagram a classmate reached out to ask if he could buy a handmade Casey pillow. And Emmett has been itching to make his own air cannon for months. He has a design, plans, an understanding of technological needs.
I know it may well sound corny, but my kids are turning into little adults. And, sure, it’s sad they need me less than not-all-that long ago. But it’s rewarding, seeing what they’re becoming.