This was the last dad and daughter dinner of the summer. And how I plan on keeping her close going into sixth grade. And look just like every other parent in the history of the world. I don’t know what I don’t know yet. I just know it’s happening too fast. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying my best to make the most of it. I know that this summer was one of the absolute best ever. And I also know the questions, like, how was your day? Hey, and tell me something fun that happened or probably not gonna cut it. So on September 1st, 2,024, after the bees swarmed in and ruined our little backyard dinner date, we brought it inside, and I gave my communication test a try. Done it before and seems to work pretty well. Within reason. I’m super open and honest about where my heads at, and then I make sure to ask, does that make sense? I feel like that helps set a precedent to talk about what’s amazing and also what’s freaking you out. And hopefully make her more comfortable to share whatever’s on her mind. And make sure she knows it’s okay to pull apart her sushi like mom pulls apart her sandwiches. My name is Tim. Being Evelyn’s dad is the most important job I’ll ever have. And