Heather called me the other day and let me know that while playing “truck” with the boy (which entailed the boy sitting on the parent’s back and pretending he’s riding a truck (or a motorcycle, boat, airplane, et al), that he went to “Happy Meal” and ordered a soda with “no ice.” That’s definitely my thing.

Another thing he does that I do (and more importantly she doesn’t haha) is sleep like a fucking log. Around Heather, if you had a conversation in sign language it would wake her up. The boy? The TV’s on, the fan is on, the alarm has gone of quite a bit, and a friend of mine called me this morning to make sure I got up this morning, and he’s still tossing and turning - another Daddy trait.

The other night my uncle came over, I guess he would be the boy’s great uncle. The boy was in my room playing, and I called him out to the living room where we all were.

me: “Come out here!”
boy: “Okay!”

And he comes bolting around the corner, giggling and roaring, following the sound of my voice. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the stranger, except they’ve seen each other a couple of times already.

“Dada,” he said, arms stretched out. So I picked him up and he grabbed me tight, wouldn’t even look at my uncle. This lasted a good five minutes, until I asked him if he wanted to go back to his room.

“Yesh,” he said, so I put him down and he turned and bolted. I followed him into the room and asked him if he was okay. He replied, “Scary man.”

I couldn’t agree with him more.