I taught you to be

When I'm feeling blue
All I have to do
Is take a look at you
Then I'm not so blue
When you're close to me
I can feel your heart beat
I can hear you breathing
In my ear
Wouldn't you agree?
Baby, you and me
We've got a groovy kind of love

Dear Andre,

I used to sing my favorite song by Phil Collins to you and Nikkei when you were babies especially when holding you in my arms to put you to sleep. Now that you're 19 and with my back bone more brittle, I wouldn't even entertain the thought.

Many things have happened, though, following those lullaby years:

I taught you Math

      but did we ever find x?

I taught you how to swim

      no depth can overcome you now
I taught you how to play the guitar
      now you play like a maestro
Did I teach you how to sing and dance?
      No. But aren't you glad I didn't?

I taught you badminton, basketball and tennis

      you showed you're an animal in sports 

I taught you how to drive

      you're better than many I know

I taught you my skills in photography

      now it's: "Dre, how's this?"

I taught you things not because I want you to be like me

I taught you skills because it's a father's job to teach a son

You may grow up to be like me but that's not my intention

I do not want you to be like me because that's just a mediocrity

I want you to be like Jesus because that's the best you can ever be

There are many things that I may have failed to teach you
      Like doing the dishes properly and fixing things at home
      Or putting away shoes, socks and shirts and nose-blown tissues
There's more time to learn those skills
      But your destiny for success aren't grounded on them
   
Happy 19th, my son.
Enjoy the last year of your teen ride.
There's a lot more to learn.

-Daddad