Thursday, August 20, 2009

What's that, Papa?

My favorite moment of being a father. I can explain bumblebees, grass, the sky. There are unfortunate moments when my son asks those questions. What's that, Papa? Nicotine patches are not called "drugs." Lesson learned.

One great thing about having a child is that it inspires me to dance with him, to play with him, to make up stupid songs. "Bouncing, bouncing, bouncing on the see-saw" is a favorite. This is not always a good thing.

A child certainly makes you rethink your position on life. You end up feeling like a jackass when you have to explain to your child why you're doing something you ought to give up. Things are more clear cut. "But why?"

I find myself missing my friends. I suppose that I have been inadequate in keeping up with them, but I still wake up and think of them every day. Our lives have diverged at this point to such extremes that we might well be strangers. I hope that one day, I can learn to keep up with people enough to know what is newer than two year old news for them.

My brother in law and his wife are lovely people. They are expecting a child. I am happy for them.

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