My littlest guy is 2 today. (Note,
word doesn’t recognize littlest as incorrect: sign o the times?)
And in the parlance of our times
(Lewbowski reference) he is adorbs. Totes.
Fatherhood is so much harder than I
thought it would be. I adored my father and I am wondering if some of that had
to do with me being the 5th of six kids and my father being so much
more at ease with parenting after 4 kids. I know I am more at ease with just
the second child.
So while it is challenging to the
nth degree, the rewards are truly transcendent, even for this humanist. But here is where it gets weird, because I am
weird most likely; the rewarding feeling comes in the most mundane activities,
and usually when I am not even involved.
I listened to my little guy play
with star wars figurines the other morning: he was saying “luke” and “solo” and
“darth” and I think he even said “I am your father” and some other syllables and I
was just overcome with joy listening as I made lunches in the kitchen. I would occasionally
pop in to watch and he would have them facing each other turning them to each
other to talk and I would just smile from ear to ear reveling in his
development and his imagination. It reminds me of when my first little guy made
his second transition in daycare. I walked in to pick him up and saw him
sitting in his little chair at the little table and just beamed with pride.
I understand these are not
monumental accomplishments in their lives and I do not understand why these
moments grab me but for some reason they stop me, put me in the moment and help me realize the beauty
that is not only their lives but also mine and how they are intertwined in the most beautiful
way.
[clip coming soon]
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