Things My Son Needs to Know about the World

by Fredrik Backman

And when you’re standing there, in the storage section at IKEA, don’t focus too much on the furniture. Focus on the fact that you’ve actually found someone who can see themselves storing their crap in the same place as your crap. Because, hand on heart: you have a lot of crap.

People sometimes ask me how I lived before I met your mother. I answer that I didn’t.

Some of the very, very, very best days of our life will be in IKEA. So play. Learn. Grow up. Follow your passions. Find someone to love. Do your best. Be kind when you can, tough when you need to be. Hold on to your friends.

People used to shout, “Stand up like a real man,” in every possible context when I was a teenager. It took me a good few years into my twenties to realize that real men can also stay seated, shut up, and listen. And admit when they’re wrong. So don’t make the same mistakes I did.

I want you to always remember that you can become whatever you want to become, but that’s nowhere near as important as knowing that you can be exactly who you are.

Because they say that, sooner or later, all men turn into their fathers. And I really hope that’s not the case. I hope you become much better.

It’s not like I have an activity for every friend. I’m not a freak. Some of them have the same activity. You have your Champions League friends. A few video game friends. While you’re growing up, you’ll have friends you only ever play poker with and friends you only ever go to the pub with. My friend N and I share an office. My friend J and I mostly tell jokes and watch Family Guy. My friend B and I talk about money and politics. My friend R and I call one another and talk for hours about all the stuff people talk about, kids and work and love and things you dream about and things that scare the shit out of you. He was the best man at my wedding. He’s been my best man since we were fifteen.

That’s why you need a band. Just so you have a reason once in a while to meet down in the recording studio (or “our friend Jimmie’s mom’s garage” in layman’s terms). Not because the music itself is so important. But because all the rest of it is.