A Letter to My Son Gus

Gus,

Tonight I wasn't a very good dad. No, wait, I'm a good dad, but today I didn't parent very well. I became frustrated while we were practicing for your weekly spelling test and I yelled. I'm sorry for that.

I should have known that you would focus on the number of times I thought we should run through the list. Especially with ice cream waiting. Practice makes perfect was my mantra growing up, it doesn't have to be yours. I should have recognized that a compromise was necessary when I noticed you had already written the first three words before I'd read even one (written them correctly, I might add).

But I didn't. Instead I made it a power struggle. I ended up yelling, you ended up crying - seeking refuge at Papa's side as Daddy looked increasingly unreasonable.

Doing well on tests was my thing. Proving I was "smart" was my issue. They don't need to be yours. Yes, I want you to do well on tests. Yes, I want people to understand you are smart. But I promise I'll try better to keep from unfairly burdening you with my own childhood insecurities.

I apologized to you tonight but you said you were still mad at me. I told you I didn't care. Of course I care. You're stubborn and strong-willed, just like I was as a kid. Yia yia tells me that's my payback for what I put her and Papou through growing up. Maybe she's right.

But here's the great thing about mistakes: we learn from them. Tonight I learned I'd rather not be someone who yells at his kids...especially over a spelling list. So I resolve to try better.

Don't get me wrong, you still need to do your very best. But maybe I'll step aside and let Papa practice these spelling lists with you.

And since I want you to look back on your childhood and remember far more good things than bad ones, tell ya what, Saturday morning we'll go for a run, just you and me. Deal?

Oh, and I'll tell you again in the morning, but Gus, I am really sorry that I yelled.

Love,

Dad