I recently had an unexpected day where it was just Brooks and me.
Those days are becoming rare. Usually our days involve both boys, or we’re all doing something together as a family. But not this time.
Brooks is six and trying to figure out who he is while soaking up influences from television, his cousins, and his friends. Listening can be a challenge. So can attitude sometimes. Before we started our day together, we talked about that. I didn’t want this opportunity for one-on-one time to become another day of correcting behavior. I wanted us to simply enjoy being together.
We started by taking Joseph to school, and then it was just the two of us.
We grabbed breakfast at our favorite coffee shop where Brooks enjoyed a muffin and a smoothie while we talked. We took pictures together and, at his request, had AI turn us into different characters. Then we headed to the store to pick out a birthday present for one of his friends. Of course Brooks left with something too—a World Cup stuffed animal. I’m still a bit of a pushover when it comes to things like that.
The rest of the day looked pretty ordinary.
We stopped for gas.
Went to the bank.
Grabbed lunch.
Delivered an envelope full of Pokémon cards that Brooks had addressed himself to his cousins.
Stopped at the grocery store.
Finished the afternoon at the library where his kindergarten class met up to watch a presentation about the science of bubbles.
From the outside, it probably looked like I was just running errands.
And maybe I was.
But it was also something else.
It wasn’t a grand adventure.
We didn’t do anything extraordinary.
We didn’t turn every stop into a game or every errand into a treasure hunt.
We simply spent the day together.
That opportunity doesn’t come around nearly as often as it used to.
Sure, Brooks and I still watch soccer together, play in the backyard, go to baseball practice, and take family walks around the neighborhood. But those moments usually include Jillian, Joseph, teammates, or friends.
This day was different.
It was just the two of us.
I honestly couldn’t tell you everything we talked about.
What I remember is that we never stopped talking.
There were ridiculous sing-alongs in the car while Brooks tried to decide what his next walk-up song should be.
We wrestled.
We laughed.
We joked.
And somewhere between the coffee shop, the grocery store, and the library, I realized something.
The older Brooks gets, the more I realize that being a father is constantly changing.
Some days he needs comfort.
Some days he needs correction.
Some days he needs someone to laugh with.
Some days he needs someone willing to say no.
The difficult part is figuring out which father he needs today.
Part of me wants him to stay my little buddy forever.
But I know that’s never been my job.
My job isn’t to keep him six years old.
My job is to help him become the man he’s meant to be.
We don’t get to decide who our children become.
We get the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to walk beside them while they figure that out for themselves.
We don’t get to make their mistakes.
But we can help them pick up the pieces afterward.
We don’t get to make their decisions.
But we can prepare them to make good ones.
We don’t get to walk every road for them.
But for a little while…
We get to walk beside them.
Brooks is six today.
One day he’ll be sixteen.
Then twenty-six.
There will come a time when an entire day with Dad isn’t something that simply happens because schedules lined up.
Those days become fewer.
That’s why this day mattered.
Not because of the errands.
Not because of the grocery store.
Not because of the bubble show.
Because for one ordinary day…
It was…
Just the two of us.
Continue the Journey:
If this story resonated with you, here are a few more reflections on fatherhood, growing up, and the moments that quietly shape the relationships we have with our children.
There will come a day when your children stop asking you to play one more game, read one more story, or come outside with them. Until then, those simple invitations are some of the greatest gifts a parent can receive.
The relationship between a father and his son is never static. As our children grow, our role shifts from protector, to teacher, to coach, to mentor—all while learning to let them become who they were meant to be.
When Errands Turn Into an Adventure
Sometimes the most memorable days aren’t vacations or elaborate plans. They’re ordinary trips to the coffee shop, the grocery store, or the bank that become unforgettable because of the person standing beside us.
The Young Napoleon Project 