As much as I may want to, I can’t possibly write posts about all of my daughter’s antics. There are far too many; she’s an antic machine. We appreciate this about her–she has a definite joie de vivre–but we can’t keep up, and I certainly can’t write fast enough to do justice to her many adventures.
Instead I thought I would share some of the snippets of post ideas she’s given me over the past several years. They’re not art or anything, but if someone were to ask me what fatherhood is like, they might receive one as an answer.
Fatherhood In a Nutshell
Sleeping toddlers are peaceful in the same way as time bombs; sure, they’re not destructive right now.
As far as I can tell, potty training involves holding a bucket of someone else’s urine and pretending to be happy about it.
Every time my daughter finds something cold, she holds it by her lower back and says, “Cold for daddy!” I’m her “old man” in more ways than one, it seems.
As a stay at home dad, I sometimes find it useful to think of my daughter as my magnum opus. For example: “My magnum opus just handed poop to me.”
Both my wife and daughter sleep with their eyes open. At first I found this disconcerting. Then, that didn’t change.
Its telling that, when we gave our daughter a rocking horse, her first reaction was to lift it above her head like a weapon. Someday she’ll ask why she can’t have a pony. This will be my answer.
The autumn before our daughter’s birth, my wife and I cancelled our planned visit to a pumpkin patch because she looked too much like a person trying to shoplift a pumpkin.
I made the mistake of telling my daughter that I like dandelions. Now, every single one that appears in our yard is eagerly transferred to our living room by generous little hands.
As a father I don’t have to wonder about my legacy; my legacy is five feet away, gnawing on a shoe. (Okay, I have to wonder about my legacy, but in an entirely different way.)
My daughter likes to build towers out of her connectable blocks. The taller the tower, the better the club it invariably becomes.
I wonder who was the first person to look at the pendulum and think, “I bet if that were bigger we could ride it.” To whomever, my daughter thanks you for swings.