Everything started to get cancelled. Basketball, school, Tom Hanks…The sky hadn’t fallen yet. But, man, it felt like it was closing in.
Don’t let anyone tell you that you’ll have to lose them one day. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.
Everyone’s jonesing for that hit of the S’mores. It’s like a town full of Wimpys, promising, “I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a Snickerdoodle today.”
It’s like getting abducted by a UFO. You went into this awful experience with an absurdly difficult and disgusting task. Next thing you know, it’s 45 minutes later and you’re sitting on the floor finished, with no recollection of how you got there or what you did.
I want to give lectures about what I was forced to call meals as a child and how we don’t get to choose what we want to eat. But, alas, I’m tired. So I plop the Eggos in the toaster and everyone enjoys their morning.
As I frantically tried to put his clothes back on, I repeated “No, no, no,” and “we don’t take our clothes off”.
People assume we are born this way. Our Dadness starts on day one.
It’s my edible nemesis and my new daily nightmare. Welcome to fatherhood, pops.
They eat cereal from between couch cushions, “miss” the potty, and put peanut butter in their pockets to save for later.
I watch though the lens of my camera and the lens of my fatherhood and can’t believe what I am seeing.