Zen’s great. But sometimes it’s OK to be like, “What the…?!”
Zen’s great. But sometimes it’s OK to be like, “What the…?!”
If you can’t be at peace, at least be a story.
Fireworks don’t go off for great parental achievements. There are no major awards to be handed out.
It’s easy to be so fixated on one specific victory that we miss all the other ones happening around us.
The best I can do is come storming back down the hallway mumbling about, “Freakin’ socks and this house.”
They’re looking down on me with a smile or making my ears ring from afar.
We all rushed to get here. When we did, it was electric bills and frozen waffles.
I pictured Ashton Kutcher running into her room and yelling, “We got you, Daddy! Ha! Your friend, God, set you up!”
These reminders aren’t just for people with children.
He’s my son. I made him. He’s a part of me. Any good I do for him, I do for myself.
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