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.
It’s easy to forget to make the memories when you’re busy running ragged into the ground.
In my head, I was forever 21 and reaching middle age just didn’t seem to fit with my persona.
When I have an internal dialogue, I can be pretty brutal.
They’re not here to make me feel better. They’re here to help my son.
This isn’t Rocket Scientry.
He’s not being rude. He’s being him. If you’re patient, though, he’s fantastic.
There’s something so unique and inspiring about it, that it’s hard to put into words.