I’m not letting him sludge his way through life. My boy looks good. I make sure of it.
The purée literally jumped four feet in the air and came splashing down on his head.
The best way I can describe days like this is that my hair hurts.
It was as if everything we have ever loved, hated, or known was taken away.
Frustrated and pleading, “Come on. You like Jeff Wiggle. Right? It’s a Jeff doll. Yay?” Nada.
One tiny giggle kept these three alive for over a decade and counting.
Life lessons that served me no good will serve them no good. It’s my duty, as their father, to see that.
All I want to do is spoil him, but I have to do what’s best for him.
It’s the parental curse of eternal-youth vision
There was no way I was having a heart attack. Right? I didn’t have heart attacks. Other people did.