The Magic We Carry

Seeing Disney Through Your Eyes and Finding Something New in Ours

If you’re new to Raising Myles, Welcome!

I write letters to my son, Myles, sharing my journey as a first-time dad and spreading the love I didn't experience myself. If you’ve been here before — thank you for coming back. If you’re new here, below are some good places to start:

• Am I a Good Dad, or Is the Bar Just Really Low?

• Starting Daycare: I Never Knew it Would be this Hard

• I used to be a Plant Dad

• How I Met Your Mother

• A Letter From Your Mother

I know I haven’t been writing as often as I used to. But recently I started something hard. Thank you for being here.

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21 Months Old

Dear Myles,

They say you should never take your child to Disney unless they are old enough to remember. I’m sure they had a point because I know you won’t remember a thing, but I know I won’t forget—one, because of the endless pictures now stored in my phone, but especially that moment during the parade in Magic Kingdom when you saw the world’s most beloved rodent—Mickey. You waved and smiled, and I smiled too. I could have missed the skies opening up in full glory because, in that moment, seeing the joy on your face made the nine-hour drive and the 24-mile walk we amassed at Epcot and Magic Kingdom worth it. I know they say, whoever they are, that Disney World is the most magical place, but I realize then that the true magic is what it does to a child’s face—how it cracks a smile out of a face that was just crying under the Florida sun just seconds ago.

Before I met your mother, I had never been to Disney World. I truly never had a desire to—convinced it was not a place for me, just for children. But when she convinced me to go, I danced and laughed in ways that surprised me—and became a child again. Seeing other men, with and without children, with full smiles, joy, and limber limbs, dancing to songs I thought were just for children, showed me that Disney is for the child in all of us. Since then, we have been three times. I must admit I kick and scream every time we go, but when I get there, something about the place transforms me. For just a day or two, the world and its troubles pause. While I wish I could say the same for our money, the experience—the escape—feels worth it. It feels necessary.

There is something about revisiting places you have been before, but now with a child. Yes, you move a lot slower, carry an extra bag or two, and deal with more crying—but there is also so much more joy in the small moments. Like trying to convince you to take a picture with Mickey, Minnie, and Goofy. Or watching your reaction on boat rides that drift through carefully crafted movie scenes. Or you driving me in one of those race cars—my foot on the pedal, you steering, my hand over my eyes. Maybe they call it magical because it is a place for you and me. A place where your mother and I can eat our way through Epcot, the closest we have been to traveling in a while, while you play at the playground with kids from all over the world.

I love the life we get to provide for you—the one we once dreamed for ourselves. It is only now that I realize that in this season, although it is really hard, these days—the hard ones—we will miss them. This weekend, when we finally got back home, it feels like you are taller now, how in just one week, we have to push things further back on the counter so you do not pull them down. How, in one week, it feels like one of those Disney characters slipped you new words when we weren’t looking—how it feels like just yesterday we had no idea what you were saying, but now the words are starting to make sense. You are growing, learning, and speaking faster than I ever imagined. A short week away from home reminds me how lucky we are to have each other—and sometimes, it still feels magical to have the very thing we once prayed for: you. I love you – and there is nothing you can do about it.

Love,

Daddy

These letters are a labor of love. All funds collected from writing these letters go toward Myles' college savings. A paid subscription also gives you access to all letters I’ve written to Myles, including these letters I write every other week or so, where I explore fatherhood more deeply, discuss my own upbringing, and reflect on what it means to be raising a Black son.

If you can’t commit to a monthly subscription, but still want to support Myles’ college plan, here is my Buy Me a Coffee page.

And if you are on Substack, please restack this letter and recommend it so I can share this love with the world.

Let me know your thoughts:

1. What is the most magical place on Earth for you?

2. Is there a place that instantly makes you feel like a kid again?

3. At what age do parents stop counting their child’s age in months?

4. What is a ‘hard moment’ of parenting that you know you will miss one day?

5. How’s your heart?

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Want more of Myles’ Letters?

These are Subscriber’s favorites:

• Myles met his Grandfather in Brooklyn, NY

• Read about Our first Father’s Day.

• A video about beautiful backgrounds: Tell Them Where You're From.

• Read about My Wife’s Love Affair - It’s exactly what you don’t think

• Have you ever been Cooking in the Bathroom kind of tired?

• Check out Carrying the Gift, Holding the Love

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  Looking for more Black Writers ?

  I present to you The Cookout Library! It's a compilation of newsletters by living Black writers put together by me. It’s now a page on my website.