“Who has seen me today? Did I talk to people like this? What is wrong with my face? Am I freakin’ melting?!”
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.
Had you told me two days earlier that this would have been Christmas, I would have screamed in worried agony. I would have called it a failure and seen my biggest fear become a reality.
As I frantically tried to put his clothes back on, I repeated “No, no, no,” and “we don’t take our clothes off”.
You’re here, but your thoughts are a million miles away. One day, you’ll be up to talk about what that is. But that day is not today.
They can influence you, steer you, and try to mold you into what direction they want you to take. Ultimately, though, the destination you reach is yours alone.
It’s the type of thing that most of us might be afraid to talk about – myself included. So let’s talk about it.
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.