A Father Starts a One-Sided Correspondence with His 3-Year-Old

Since she cries in the morning, I started writing one-sided letters to my daughter.

Lately, leaving in the morning has been a bit tough.

When I try to go to work, my daughter cries.

"I wanted to play with Daddy more..."

That hits hard.

It hits a father's mental state directly from the morning.

From my perspective, I'm not exactly running away from home.

I'll be back in the evening.

Yet, just looking at my daughter's reaction, the atmosphere is like I'm being sent on an overseas assignment.

Every morning, I would say things like,

"I'll be back in the evening!" "Let's play again!" "Think about what you want to play later!"

But my daughter cries.

She clings to my legs.

She looks at me.

She really looks at me.

It's hard to leave. It takes a toll on my mental state.

Then one day, I had a thought.

"Should I try leaving a letter...?"

I thought it was a bit creepy myself.

A 36-year-old man, trying to write a note to a 3-year-old in the morning.

And the recipient can't even read hiragana perfectly yet.

But I started it anyway.

On a small piece of paper, I write things like,

"I'll do my best at work today," "Let's play when I get back," "I love you."

Then I leave it on the table.

It's quite one-sided.

No reply comes.

It's not a correspondence.

It's a father posting his emotions.

The first day.

When I got home, my daughter ran up to me.

"There was a letter!"

She looked happy.

I was a little surprised.

Is it that effective?

And from that day on, the morning atmosphere actually changed a bit.

Of course, there are days she still cries.

That's normal.

She's a 3-year-old.

Her emotions change more than the weather.

However,

she started asking, "Is there a letter today?"

I've always been the type to overthink the reasons behind people's reactions.

So naturally, I think about this too.

Why was my daughter happy about the letter?

Was she happy about the paper?

Was she happy that it was addressed to her?

Was she able to confirm that "Daddy will definitely come back"?

Or did she simply feel like she received a special message just for her?

Since I was young, I've believed that affection should be put into words.

"Thank you," "I love you," "I thought that was good."

If you don't say those things, they don't get across.

Well, maybe some parts do get across.

But I'm the type who thinks it's better to say them anyway.

I'm annoyingly eager to put things into words.

So, the letters to my daughter are probably an extension of that.

But lately, I've been thinking.

Even if children don't understand the full content, I feel like they can sense the "feelings directed toward them."

In the morning, Daddy disappears.

It's lonely.

But there is a letter left for her.

It says,

"Let's play when I get back."

Maybe that alone makes her feel a little secure.

Of course, I'm not a sparkling father every morning.

I'm just tired.

I'm in a rush.

There are days when I'm cutting it close on time.

There are days when I think, "Can I skip the letter today...?"

I'm no saint.

I'm just a father with a strong habit of over-analyzing and a weakness for my daughter's tears.

Even so, I write a few lines on a small piece of paper today, too.

Perhaps my daughter is receiving the message "Daddy was thinking about me" more than the text itself.

Maybe children can find security not just in "being together for a long time," but also in "traces of someone truly caring for them."

In relation to this, I have compiled the specific words, letters, and ways of interacting that I actually continue to use into a paid article.

Recommended related articles

・"I wanted to play with Daddy more" really hit me hard in the morning

・A father, still waiting for a reply that hasn't come yet