Hijacking My Computer Chair

Sunday afternoon. It’s my favorite time of the week. It means we’ve survived the previous three hours of church with kids. Honestly, I don’t know why we do it when much of our time is spent in the foyer. I guess it’s a tradition. My parents had to retreat to the foyer when I was a child so I’m obligated to make the same sacrifice with my children.

But if we last the entire three hours, our kids are exhausted when we arrive home. I’m tired too, but this is one of the ideal times of the week to write without interruption.

Yesterday, I found a blanket and made my way downstairs to my computer. But when I swung my chair around, it was occupied. Luca was sitting in my chair, using my computer to read my blog.

I pulled up a chair next to her, not sure what to expect.

When I began blogging several years ago, I didn’t give much thought to how it would impact my family. But it made me wonder how much I knew about my parents when I was Luca’s age (9). With over 1500 posts spanning nearly ten years, there are many details of my life for Luca to read about. Some I’m proud of and many I’d rather she skip past.

Maybe she’ll come across the post about how I walked away from a job. Or the one I mentioned going through divorce. Or the hundreds of posts that detail my mistakes on some level. It’s all there for her to read someday.

Will she think less of me because I goofed around in college? Will she think I’m weak because I went through a few struggles living in Germany. Do my actions match the expectations I’ve held her to, or will I come across as a hypocrite?

If she reads enough, she’ll understand how imperfect her father is.

Luca scrolled down the list of blogs I’ve written. I enjoy watching her do about anything and understand she won’t always invite me into her life. But for now, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Have you learned anything about your dad today?” I ask.

“Yep”, she replies.

I don’t know what to expect. But I don’t want to press her either. So I decide to keep watching. She makes quick work of a few posts. She smiles, even laughs a few times. She finishes reading each page before clicking “previous entries”. She’s made her way through the past couple of years worth of posts.

And then she comes to a post I wrote about missing her pumpkin carving. I assumed she’d skip over it. No need to dredge up the time your dad botched the starting time of the Halloween party.

But she didn’t skip it.

When she finished, she left her chair and jumped on my lap before giving me a hug.

“Show me your favorite ones”, she said.

I should have asked what she was going to teach me today.