One day without school turned into two and then three and then fifteen. Soon, no one knew what day it was, when things were going back to normal, and what exactly was happening.
Sometimes those golden sentiments of happy-happy joy-joy work in the opposite direction.
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.