The Duck and Frog Show: A Letter to Anna Mae and Lizzie

Dear Anna Mae and Lizzie,

Do the two of you remember The Duck and Frog Show? I sure hope you do.

“Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls of alllll ages, The Duck and Frog Show will be beginning in five minutes!!” I would proclaim using my best imitation of a circus’s Master of Ceremony. The novelty and originality of my performances had already run its course with your mother, so she would give me a polite smile and shake her head with a mixture of amusement and annoyance at my theatrics. But the crowd that I was really trying to bait -- the two of you when you were probably about 2 and 4-years-old -- would react with excitement, which I thought was testimony to the craft that I had improved with multiple performances. Afterall, getting your attention was no easy task especially considering that I was interrupting your “busy schedules” of pretending to be the teachers at Beanie Boo Preschool with your stuffed animals scattered in a circle for story time. At times, I would remind you that the cost for admission required you to have all your toys picked up. So, as the instructors of Beanie Boo Preschool, you would quickly call for quiet time and place the students into a basket.

In case you don’t remember… To the average person, Duck and Frog were mere washcloths that doubled as hand puppets of (yep, you guessed it) a duck and a frog. (In hindsight, the stage names that I created for them could have used a little work.) Nonetheless, on bath nights, Duck and Frog were stars of a production that rivaled the best of any Broadway show -- at least to the critics that attended the show. Instead of settling into the seats of a theater in Manhattan, however, these critics - the two of you - would climb into the tub taking your seats, which also happened to partially submerge you into water and soapsuds.

Both of you would spend a moment dipping your arms into the suds concentrating on avoiding the temptation of splashing too much -- since that had created quite a mess on a previous show -- and caused the MC (me) to add a new restriction on splashing during performances (and any bathtime in general). With the two of you situated, I would slide my hands into the puppets and watch your big brown eyes, Anna Mae, and your glistening green eyes, Lizzie, stare at me waiting for the stars to take the imaginary stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of allllll ages…” I would roar again, “Put your hands together for Duck and Frog!” And with that and the supportive clapping of their favorite fans, Duck and Frog took the stage. Their act was an impromptu bit that mimicked a late night variety show. They sang songs, did magic tricks, told jokes, pretended to be boxers, invited guests, and regularly asked their favorite fans - the two of you - to participate with them - singing along, assisting with the magic trick, doing the rimshot sound effects on jokes, or serving as the referee in the boxing matches.

Duck was the mischievous one. For example, after the hearty introduction of The Duck and Frog Show, occasionally only Frog would pop his head above the side of the tub. Frog would thank the crowd for coming, but then ask if they had seen Duck. Meanwhile, Duck would slowly pop his head up directly behind Frog. The two of you would scream at Frog. “He’s right behind you!!!” And, so Frog would look backward, but just before he was able to turn his head, Duck would disappear downward out of sight of the audience -- and presumably out of view from Frog. Frog, would turn back to face the two of you saying he was not there, and as he did, Duck would appear again - only this time he was shimmering left and right behind Frog, like he was dancing on hot coals. You both would crack up laughing. And the harder you laughed, the more Duck in the background doubled-over as if he was laughing. Frog, though, oblivious to it all, would ask what in the world was so funny? And, the more puzzled he became, the more you would laugh. And, the show would go on with Duck hiding from Frog, and Frog looking for Duck. Although Duck playfully teased Frog; he never tried to hurt his feelings. In fact, he silently cheered for him -- encouraging the crowd to applaud -- making Frog take a bow for what he thought was his own charm and talent. And, at the end of the show, Duck and Frog would always take a bow on stage together, as friends, knowing they had yet another great performance.

I don’t even recall the date that Duck and Frog retired as performers. There was no final act, no final bow. They slowly just became a little less funny, a little too cheesy for their audience. And, the reruns eventually did get old - not only for the two of you, but for me, the guy who had his hands stuffed into their necks. If I recall correctly, The Duck and Frog Show was replaced by a series called, Will It Float?, a show about making predictions on whether or not (as you may recall or hopefully can guess) something will or will not float.

But, that show too was cancelled. And soon bathtime was replaced with showers. And in a blink of an eye, my audience - the two of you - went from toddlers to little girls to budding young ladies. And along the way, the bedtime role of the creator of The Duck and Frog and Will it Float?, the same guy that walked the floors for hours at night cradling each of you when you were teething, colicky or scared, the guy that made up silly stories at bedtime, the person that would struggle to stay awake reading Goodnight Moon, and the Dad who loved hearing you both read Chicken Said Cluck became much smaller and smaller. So, now, I settle for a simple hug and kiss and a short shared prayer.

When did time begin to evaporate?

I remember worrying deeply about being a Dad. My biological clock certainly had been ready for a while. I was 33. (Shouldn’t wisdom come with age?) I worked in education, was surrounded by nieces and nephews that I loved, and married to someone that I knew would be a wonderful mother. And yet, I still felt so unprepared. I read parenting books, participated in parenting classes to learn important skills, like which way to position the diaper, and eagerly sought the counsel of friends and family. But, I was terrified. I was afraid that I would place your carseat in my trunk and then get distracted and leave you there. I worried that your heavy head might snap and break away from your neck because I didn’t position my hand just right when holding you. I was just about sure that you were going to choke while eating your first pineapple, Anna Mae. And beyond physical care, I worried that I would just not be good at being there for you emotionally. I feared that I would be aloof. That I would in turn make you become alienated, bitter, and mean. I thought a new baby in our home might make my best friend, Tonya, no longer be my buddy. I worried that you wouldn’t love me. And, in truth, I worried that I might not love you.

I felt so unprepared to be a Dad.

And, I was right. Not about the trunk thing, nor the head snapping away from the neck, the pineapple, lack of love, or really about any of the scenarios that ran through my head. I was wrong about all of that. But, I was right that I was unprepared.

I wasn’t prepared to know how to handle a colicky baby. (Nothing in those books worked!) I wasn’t prepared for both of you to test the limits of what you could get away with at such an early age and for you to continue to test limits still today. I wasn’t prepared for not knowing my own limits at times (which is why I so often say, “Go ask your mom.”) And, I certainly had no idea how much drama comes with two middle school girls. I also didn't know how tired kids would make me feel. How frustrated you would make me feel. How sad you could make me feel. How helpless you could make me feel. How angry you would make me feel.

But, I also had no idea how both of your tiny hands grabbing my finger for the first time would make me feel. How hearing your laughs would make me feel - both when you were infants and still today. I had no idea how proud you could make me feel. Or how happy you could make me feel.

I was simply not prepared on how much love you made me realize that I could feel.

I definitely have made my share of mistakes as a parent. It is the most difficult job that I’ve ever had by far. But, it is also without a doubt the part of my life that I am most proud. My heart feels full and my life seems worthwhile by simply seeing the two of you become the people you have already become. And, nothing fuels my desire to live more than the desire to see who you will become in the future.

I want to promise that I will be there for you - that regardless of what life throws at you, I will be there to listen. To laugh with you. To cry with you. To cheer you on. And to guide you the very best that I can. I want to be there for you as you face the struggles through your teenage years, college years, and help you find your footing as young adults.

And yet, I can’t make that promise. I know that. You know that. As optimistic and hopeful as I want to be, the odds remain stacked against me. If cat sores does get the best of me, I want you to remember that even after my physical presence on this earth vanishes, I remain a part of the family. I remain with you. I know things will be hard as you navigate life. Really hard. You will feel angry. Scared. Lonely. Forgotten. Broken. It will be tempting to quit. To find excuses. To surrender and become a prisoner of the numbness and the pain.

But, you are my lions. My bears. Remember, being brave is not about the absence of fear, sadness, or worry. It’s about willing to do what is necessary - what is right - even when you face those emotions. So, although your world may feel shattered, it is for you to find the pieces that can be put back together. The goal isn’t to reassemble the fragments in hopes of assembling the family you once had. It is to have the strength and the vision to create something different. Not necessarily better. Or worse. But something beautiful. Your goal isn’t to make me proud. Your mom will need you, and I hope you will help her and each other. But honestly, the goal isn’t even to make her proud. Your goal - your challenge - is to make yourselves proud.

And, if you both become mothers some day, I would love to be able to introduce your kids to The Duck and Frog Show. But, if I’m not able to be here, feel free to steal my material. Or, even better, create your own routine. Find a way to learn alongside your own kids. To set your own limits. To laugh with them. But, most of all to love them. And, when you feel like you need me most, picture me as Duck, the silly sidekick with a big smile standing right behind you -- perhaps out of sight and reach -- but cheering you on in all that you do.

With all my love,

Dad