When your kids are infants, you dream about them not NEEDING you so much someday. As that day marches inexorably closer, (and the sleep-deprivation-induced psychosis starts to ebb) that dream starts looking suspiciously like a nightmare. My wife and I have been careful to preserve our own identities in the maelstrom of parenthood, and we do have interests apart from our children, although I can’t seem to think of any of them right now.
Give me a minute…
Anyway, Jack laid this one on me the other day:
He had spent the day with his friend Markus, another home-schooled kid, who shares many of Jack’s more subversive traits, including his penchant for growing his hair long and shaggy and improvising punk-rock anthems. They are quite a pair.
When I got home from work, I asked Jack if he enjoyed his day.
“YES!” he said, “I had such a good time, I COMPLETELY forgot about you!”
Give me a minute…
Anyway, Jack laid this one on me the other day:
He had spent the day with his friend Markus, another home-schooled kid, who shares many of Jack’s more subversive traits, including his penchant for growing his hair long and shaggy and improvising punk-rock anthems. They are quite a pair.
When I got home from work, I asked Jack if he enjoyed his day.
“YES!” he said, “I had such a good time, I COMPLETELY forgot about you!”
Jack, in a more pensive moment, contemplating a rubber chicken.
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