Disclaimer: The characters are not mine; they are the pawns of Sorkin and Wells.

Rating: PG

A/N: This piece was inspired in part by Chai's excellent fic, Buying Time, as well as the movie My Life. I was watching it today (unfortunate mustache, but at least BW plays an actual, you know, human being). Anyway, Michael Keaton's character is dying of cancer, so he makes these videotapes for his as yet unborn son to watch as he is growing up, about different things. It just got me to thinking, what would Josh do in the same situation? There may have been a similar fic to this in GCCA earlier; I can't remember. If so, I'm sorry. This just came to me and I thought I'd write it.

PS: The son's name will be Joshua, of course.


Dear kiddo,

If you're reading this, you know I was pretty sick, once, so sick that I never got to see you. I'm sorry for that, really I am. But I love you; I have since the moment your mother told me. And I'm so happy to have been your father. I know it's probably going to be hard to grow up without me; it was hard enough losing my dad, and I was nearly forty. So I thought I would write you this list, just some general things to keep in mind. Some of them will hopefully be obvious to you by now, others you may need explained. I know your mom will be happy to, though she might cry at first. She always was a crier. I'm sorry it's not more, buddy, but I'm pretty tired, and I wanted to do this by myself, so you'd have something, from me to you, just between us.

I love you, Joshua.

Dad.


Cats are bad. Period.

Red meat's got to be burned. It's the only way to go.

The backpack makes the man.

A good pair of sunglasses is a necessary investment. Trust me on this one.

Always buff the bottom of your shoes. Yeah.

Never underestimate the power of a good smirk.

Avoid "winging" anything, especially a press briefing. Just ask CJ.

Any shrink named Stanley's a good bet.

Whatever you do, please, please, don't let your Uncle Sam turn you into a Gilbert and Sullivan freak. Stick with the Doobie Brothers.

Don't mess with your Aunt CJ, 'cause, you know, she'll hurt you.

Don't let Toby scare ya. Underneath the bluster, he's one of the best guys you'll meet. Just don't believe him when he starts talking about the Yankees. We're Mets men.

When President Bartlet starts lecturing, just run. He'll like you. You can probably get away with it.

If your mother ever instates The Rules, do yourself a favor and just do what she says. Life'll be better that way.

If by some cruel twist of fate you inherit my sensitive system, always keep a fresh set of clothes in the office. I ended up in fishing waders, once.

Just in case you wonder, your mother will never, ever, order her own fries. She'll eat yours. I know it's odd, but it's just a thing. It's okay.

So. Girls. First of all, be wary of the brunettes, okay? Although blondes are scary enough, as I'm sure you've discovered by now.

The dimples. I know you hate 'em, but yeah, never grow facial hair. They're your fallback with the ladies. They'll work where all the chocolate and roses in the world won't do a damn thing.

Unexpected gifts. They're much more meaningful than traditional ones. And just between you and me, you'll get luckier. But just do your old man a favor on that one, okay? Wait awhile.

Don't stop for beer, or even red lights, when something's important, cause... just get your mother to explain that one. Someday you'll understand.

Keep your family close.

Don't be afraid to take risks, to trust, when it feels right, about people. That's how I met your mother.

Speaking of your mother, you have my permission to sabotage any dates she has with gomers, or rather jerks you don't like. If you like'em, that's another story, though, 'cause I want you both to be happy.

Voting. Is. Important. If you don't, I'll kick your ass.

Hold out for the real thing. Whatever, whenever. Just do it.

Remember that I love you. Always.