A Day With Dad And Uncle Tom By Sheila Robins 11yo 63 (2026)

Sheila Robins. "A Day with Dad and Uncle Tom." (Child's narrative), age 11, page 63.

The heart of the story is a road trip. Dad drives a bulky sedan (a Chevrolet Bel Air or a Ford Fairlane, readers speculate). Uncle Tom rides shotgun, and Sheila has the entire back seat to herself. They drive out of the suburban or small-town grid into the countryside. The destination? Likely a fishing hole, a diner with blue-plate specials, or a county fair.

What makes Sheila’s writing remarkable for an 11-year-old is her attention to the between moments:

Sheila does not just list events. She captures feeling—the security of being between two adults who adore you, the thrill of being the only child on a grown-up expedition.

The story concludes at twilight. The three of them arrive home, sunburned and tired. Mom (mentioned only briefly) has dinner waiting. And as Sheila—both the character and the author—drifts off to sleep, she thinks: “Some days are big. But this one was just the right size.”

It is a deceptively profound closing. At 11, Sheila Robins had already learned that happiness is not loud. It is the quiet hum of a car engine and two men who showed up. a day with dad and uncle tom by sheila robins 11yo 63

To understand A Day with Dad and Uncle Tom, one must first understand the world of 1963. John F. Kennedy was President (until November of that year). The Beatles had just released “Please Please Me” in the UK. A gallon of gas cost 30 cents. And for an 11-year-old girl like Sheila Robins, a “good day” did not involve screens, social media, or scheduled playdates.

In 1963, a day with one’s father and an uncle was an event. It was permission to step out of the structured world of school and chores into a masculine, adventurous sphere. For Sheila, writing this story at such a tender age, the act of documenting the day was itself a form of preservation—a child’s instinct to freeze happiness in ink.

The number “63” in the keyword almost certainly refers to the year of writing. This was an era when children still wrote letters in cursive, submitted hand-drawn covers for stories, and were praised for detailed observation. Sheila Robins, at 11, was already a keen observer.

Today was one of those days I had been waiting for—really looking forward to. Dad had promised me that he and Uncle Tom would take me on a special adventure, just the three of us. The excitement had been building up inside me like a fizzy soda about to overflow.

We set off early in the morning. Dad drove, with Uncle Tom riding shotgun and me squeezed in the backseat, trying to contain my excitement. The sun was just starting to peek through the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything. It was going to be a beautiful day. Sheila Robins

Uncle Tom, Dad's best friend since college, always had the most amazing stories. He had traveled the world, done crazy jobs, and seemed like a real-life superhero to me. I loved listening to his tales of adventure and bravery.

Our destination was a surprise, but the way Dad and Uncle Tom kept smiling at each other made me guess it was going to be something really special. After about an hour of driving through rolling hills and quaint little towns, we arrived at a place I had never seen before—a beautiful, serene lake surrounded by tall trees and filled with crystal-clear water.

"Today, kiddo," Uncle Tom said, turning around with a twinkle in his eye, "we're going fishing."

I squealed with delight. I had been fishing only once before, and it was with Grandpa, who wasn't around anymore. This felt like a special honor, spending the day with Dad and Uncle Tom.

Dad showed me how to bait the hook, and Uncle Tom helped me cast my line into the water. We spent the morning fishing, laughing, and just enjoying the tranquility of the lake. When I finally caught a small fish, Dad and Uncle Tom cheered louder than I had ever heard them cheer before. Sheila does not just list events

After a picnic lunch by the lake, where Uncle Tom told tales of his fishing adventures around the world, we decided to explore the nearby woods. We walked through the forest, Dad pointing out different types of trees and animals. Uncle Tom taught me some cool survival skills, like how to find your way using the sun and which berries were safe to eat.

As the day drew to a close, we headed back home, tired but happy. The setting sun cast a golden glow through the car windows, a perfect ending to a perfect day.

As I looked at Dad and then at Uncle Tom, I knew this was a day I would cherish forever—a day filled with laughter, adventure, and the people I love most.

"Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Uncle Tom," I said, my voice filled with emotion.

Uncle Tom ruffled my hair. "Anytime, kiddo. We'll have to do it again soon."

Dad smiled, his eyes reflecting the happiness of the day. "Definitely. There are many more adventures to come."

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