My daughter's bus driver gave her a flower. A rose, in fact. Was it a special occasion? Doesn’t matter in my book, because it’s her bus driver. The one who picks her up and drops her off at school. My daughter speaks a few words to her each day, sits in her seat, and that’s it. What would cause a person to make such a kind gesture?

Here is some great news - I’ve lived enough years to stop caring about a few things. These are things no one cares about but me. And yet, I’ve felt a compulsion to do them most of my life. Now I get to stop. No more shame. No more worrying about what someone might think.

I’ve noticed a couple habits that are deeply troubling when analyzed. Not because they’re anything bad. In some cases they are quite common. The problem is that they make no sense. Mine are going to be different from yours, but we all have some version of them. The things anyone else would deem absolutely nuts. But that’s part of the fun of being a person - our strange little quirks. Let’s begin.

Why does receiving wishes from a genie always have to include epic requests? Can’t it ever be simple things that receive a petition? Not the biggest and the best, just the small things you wish you could change? Here are three obscure things I would wish for. Oh, and obviously for this exercise we aren’t focusing on things like world peace and social harmony, which of course all my wishes would go toward if genies were real.

Do you have a picky eater at home? We do, but it feels fair on the universe’s balance sheet. My wife and I were picky eaters growing up. Grilled cheese for her, PB&J for me. We did have other entrees from time to time, but it was an exclusive list. Candy always made the cut. As Jerry Seinfeld once explained, “All children’s lives are driven by one all-consuming thought, ‘get candy, get candy, get candy.’”

My wife loves looking at the stars. She found one of those cool apps that lets you point your phone in the sky and see the names of every heavenly body. It even shows you where things are supposed to be that you can’t see. What a friendly app.

My daughter has adopted a strange behavior from my wife. She sometimes needs me to decipher what she wants to eat. Not in an authoritarian way. She doesn’t want me to decide for her. She wants me to reach inside her head and figure out what she wants. Like some sort of mystic-mind-meld, she expects me to do the work. And if I don’t, oh boy.

Traditions are like inside jokes - so much better when shared with people you love. Some traditions are passed down from family. You don’t really have a choice in the matter. No matter how much you protest, they are happening because the people responsible for keeping you alive say so. Whether they caused smiles or frowns, they became a part of your DNA.

I recently went somewhere I had wanted to visit for a long time. The Mothership Comedy Club in Austin, Texas. Living in Washington, it was too far away for a quick drop in. But it was only two hours from our temporary apartment in Houston. So I jumped in my truck to drive toward two goals. One, I wanted to experience live comedy in a club. Two, I wanted to try an open mic. I knew it would be a long shot, but at the very least I would get to see the show.

You hear stories about it in every medium. A movie with a beautiful actress, a novel with a hyper-intelligent lead. It’s a character that is driven by the pursuit of something. They might be looking for fame or fortune. Perhaps it’s an incredible cause or foundational belief that motivates them. Maybe it’s just pure self-will and determination. Whatever the person, whatever the circumstance, whatever the motivation - the guiding principle is the pursuit of more. What they have is not enough, and they won't be happy or fulfilled until they get the right amount.

How often do you contemplate the subject of trust? How much do you trust yourself? How well do you even know yourself? Can you see the hamsters spinning in your head, and do you know why they run? I’ve been thinking about this because I hurt my toe. It’s the weirdest injury.

I often use known people to describe new people. Living in a small community, this means referencing locals quite often. When I say, “that person is just like Jeff from the hardware store,” most people know who I mean. If need be, a historical figure, celebrity, or athlete will do the trick. “That lady looks like Reese Witherspoon.” You get the idea.

It’s funny how memories get catapulted out of our minds. A smell floats through the air, let’s say banana. As soon as it hits your nostrils, you are taken back to that time you made banana bread at your friend's house when you were ten. Yes, his mom helped, but the kids did most of the work, and created most of the mess. Another memory that often comes back is from a coffee shop that employed me in high school. They sold pastries, sandwiches, and all kinds of delectable treats. So now, every time I smell that right combination of coffee and powdered sugar, I get mentally swept back to being seventeen.

Last year, I started wearing some new colors. My daughter will point at any blue article of clothing in the wild, and say it looks like it has my name written on it. Blue is my favorite color. If you took all the black, white, and gray out of my closet, it’s pretty much a sea of blue. So I got frisky and started venturing to a couple new islands.

I want to soak in these holiday moments. Family, good food, warm sweaters, sleeping in. Every year it comes and goes and I find that my level of enjoyment is pretty much equal to my engagement. It’s possible, and let’s be honest, easy to wander through these days in a half haze. You wouldn’t be faulted for wanting rest. Contrary to what most children say, parents work really hard. The simultaneous jobs of earning a wage and growing your offspring take a toll. So why not nap all day? Because of the following kinds of moments…

One of the first pieces of furniture my wife and I bought when we got married was a ping pong table. We were 20, in college, and incredibly happy. Those first years when everything is new and exciting. You remember. We didn’t have much, but we got to return home to the same place every day. That was all we needed.

I felt a weird emotion the other day. I got nervous. Not scared nervous. That happened the time my friend and I drove home through the dark woods after watching the Blair Witch Project. No, this was that childlike nervous feeling, like my first day at a new school.

I think I’ve officially started down the path of becoming an old man. The proof is what I did last night. It was Friday. It was 9:00 PM. I was lying in my bed, watching old sports highlights on my laptop. And that was 100% what I wanted to do. With the entire internet, every streaming service, a house full of hobbies, and a car that could take me anywhere, I wanted to watch an old video of Nadal winning a semifinal tennis match at a small tournament from twelve years ago. And I’d do it again.

My daughter is crying hard in her bedroom. It’s late at night and I am angry and frustrated. Somehow, in the last two weeks she has reverted from a five-year-old to a two-year-old. She won’t go to bed. She cries, she gets out of bed, she calls for Mom. Only now it is worse because she isn’t just crying; she is saying all the most painful things you can ever hear from your child. “No one loves me, no one ever does anything for me, no one cares about me.”

“Thank you for working on Thanksgiving.” That is what I said to the young woman leaning out of the coffee stand window. She had a handful of precious treats for my family. A croissant for my daughter, a half sandwich for my wife, and a mocha with an extra shot and half the chocolate for me. I used to dislike coffee. Then I started working a real job after college and realized that people are like cars - they need fuel. But I had quite the sweet tooth. So I got the coffee with all the bells and whistles.