COMMENTARY
KEN AND STACY IGE /
SPECIAL TO T HE STAR-BULLETIN
Tanner Ige enjoys a day at the beach with his "Ha Dada," Ken.
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First words reflect son’s first place in dad’s heart
By Ken Ige
Special to the Star-Bulletin
My son's first spoken word was "Ha Dada." Obviously, that's Daddy, right?
Obviously.
My obviously jealous wife argued that Tanner also pointed to our dogs and said, "Ha Dada." And to the trash can, a bottle of milk, the bus driving by ...
Pretty much everything. "Ha Dada."
My wife was soooo in denial.
Tanner did finally learn to say "Mommy." And sure, he quickly figured out that Mommy has the milk, which is a really unfair advantage when all a baby does is eat, sleep and poop. What can I say? He's a smart kid. So now, with just about anything, he turns to Mommy first. Then if she's not around, he settles for me. Well, actually, I think he looks for the two Grandmas next and then me.
Still, fourth place is nice. It's an honor to be nominated. Yadda yadda yadda.
He's almost 2 now. I still catch myself staring at him as he sleeps, watching every little lift of his tiny chest; praying that he'll grow to be healthy and happy. Sometimes he holds my face in his hands and stares into my eyes for long, wonderful moments, then gives me a quick kiss before he runs off to play.
I miss him when I'm surfing. I miss him when I'm golfing. Whodathunk? I feel an actual physical ache in my chest when I look at his photo in my locker at work.
He calls me Daddy now. And he stopped saying "Ha Dada." Coincidence? Obviously not!
KEN AND STACY IGE /
SPECIAL TO T HE STAR-BULLETIN
Tanner and his mom, Stacy.
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Of course, it's not always that great. Parenting is still challenging. I used to laugh when I'd hear parents say, "You turn around for one second and they're gone!" Yeah, right. C'mon, folks, I'd think. They're just little kids with little legs and little feet.
But now I've seen it myself. One second. Gone!
And then there are the tantrums, whining, the word "No!"
Auwe auwe auwe.
But Tanner's smile can take the edge off the stinkiest diaper; even the neon green one after he ate the crayon (I should've been watching him better). His laughter can calm me down after he spills a cup of iced coffee in my new truck (yes, honey, it should not have been there in the first place).
I've realized that Tanner's smile is the reason I'm here.
My job in life is not to be the perfect parent and make him rich or prepare him to win the Nobel Prize -- although those things would be nice. Really nice. It will truly be my greatest accomplishment if my son grows up to be, simply, happy.
Plus, I'll always have that trump card to brag about: As a little baby, when he decided to utter his very first word, my son Tanner called me. His one and only me.
Ha Dada.