Show them they matter

Hug them every day. Every day. Listen to them, don't cut them off and interupt. They're always watching and learning, even if it doesn't appear that they are. They're watching. And listening. Give them a hug everyday, hugs. Even when they've been "bad". Especially then. I recall brief moments when the boys are simply being boys and they do something and get in trouble, some terribly minor infraction of the "rules". So they get a time out or lose a privilege or something. Big deal. Get that out of the way, hug them and move on with the day. Sometimes they'll need to drag it out too  long, but nice when they can let it be as well. Just hug the kid, tell them you love them every day. It matters.

be careful what you say

I'm pretty calm most of the time. I have my share of patience. I've only lost it a few times. And when that happens I really feel like an idiot. Like some half-wit took over my body briefly. I'm not that guy. In times of patience being tried - at the hands of my sons and often on the cusp of bedtime - occasionally I'll say something stupid. Something like "no story for bedtime tonight" or "no t.v. tomorrow". I don't mean it. So they're a little goofy and light-of-hearing before bedtime. It's usually with considerable joy and laughter. What's wrong with that. So they go to bed five minutes later than I'd planned, five minutes more laughing. What the hell's wrong with that. Rhetorical questions don't get question marks.

So when I put my foot in my mouth, I usually regret it instantly. So I'll take it back. They know Dads aren't perfect. I can screw up. They're far too young to know just how badly I can screw up, but it takes a man to apologize. That's an expression, obviously. Woman, and children for that matter can apologize, but I think I made the point. So, you say something regrettable, apologize for it. Tell them you meant what you said about doing what you asked, but no, story time is not lost, t.v. time is not lost. They're kids, not robots. There should be some level of grace period. I'm not raising tiny Marines here, they're my children. I'm not "sir" and they'll never be beaten by their parents (some folks call it "spanking"). I deserve their respect but they most assuredly deserve mine as well. They're listening, just not always intently. Be careful what comes out of your mouth, and if you screw up like me, apologize and give them a good long tickle. They'll remember it.

"is today an off day?"

A while after being awakened harshly by laughter and getting bonked on the head by that 3 feet tall awful green goblin thing, I decided I'd give up and get out of bed. The boys were playing a game that I couldn't begin to describe. Kind of like stationary soccer with an oversized stuffed creature thing instead of a ball. It was 7 a.m. which is actually not bad for my bunch. They never sleep past 6 so 7 was not too bad. Plus I knew I had Cracker Barrel coffee to make. My eight year old asked "Is today an off day?". Sure babe. It's Saturday. No school, no work. It's rainy and gray but that doesn't matter. Time flies and every weekend seems to last about an hour and a half but they're as nice for the kiddos as the parents. Day trips, movies, parks, family visits, relaxing. There's really no limit to the joy a weekend has.

write it down

You really need write these things down.
I should. Every day. Every day those two boys of mine say something so...so something. It's so often that you can't remember. I can't, rather. The precious little gems, they happen every day. I'm sure every kid does this, they say something and the grown ups wonder where did he get that. Point is, need to write this stuff down. You won't remember it, you won't. Write it down.

two boys, two perfect sons

I always thought I'd have a daughter. A little girl. As far back as I remember assuming I would one day have children, I just always thought I'd be a dad to a little girl. Two children later, both sons, I'm more than satisfied. A son to a father is perfection. It's what every man wants, seemingly. My two boys are close enough in age that they would likely and possibly always consider each other their best friend. Less than two and a half years separate my children. They're now eight and nearly six. Great ages, though I've always said that throughout their lives and assume will always see the beauty in every stage of life along the way.
They're interested in similar things. They have the typical big brother/little brother battles. They often want different things but they are inherently brothers. Each day is a joy. Each day brings similarities and differences. Each day with my boys is a gift. 

pride

My five year old son was showing me his new drawings. Mapped out like a comic strip. Several pages. He had a story to tell, likely a montage of Calvin & Hobbes and various cartoons complete with catchphrases I didn't know. The kid was so excited to share these little tales with his dad and I was so completely humbled and proud of him. Little stick drawings. Going square by square on the page I kept my arm around him, sitting there on the carpeted floor, his head alternately resting on my shoulder and bopping around with excitement. What a gift. That kid is a gift. A grace too pure for a father to even grasp.