is for the best job in the whole wide world. A job I’ve held for over eight years, 12 years combined. There was a gruelling interview process. There were a few conditions that had to be met prior to filling this position. The perks are incredible. There are few benefits. The pay sucks, though.
From that first moment I found out, Halloween of 2006, I was elated. I only had the vaguest idea of what was to come. However, I knew I was ready for whatever it was.
But was I ready when I found out he’d need open heart surgery when he was five days old? Of course not, but I knew I wasn’t alone. Was I ready when I realized he’d be eight days old before I’d get to hold him for the first time? Of course not, but I knew patience would pay off. Was I ready when he wrapped his tiny hand around my finger and grabbed my heart? Damn straight I was ready.
I am Dad. Deliverer of discipline, developer of dreams, and destroyer of dark thoughts. I am Dad. I play, I laugh, and I cook. I teach them to read and I teach them math. I take them outside and I take them to school. I teach them respect and I teach them the difference between the light side and the dark side.
It’s not a job. It’s not a career. It’s who I am. Just as I am a boy, just as I am introverted, I, too, am a Dad. Just as my dad was before me and his dad was before him. Nothing will ever take that away.
And if B is for Bang, C is for Crash, and D is for Dad,
is also for DW. She’s the one responsible for making me Dad in the first place. We make beautiful babies. We know how to make each other laugh until we drool on ourselves and pee our pants while shoe shopping. We have enough common interests to love each other and enough uncommon interests to keep things interesting. This house wouldn’t be what it is without the determination and devotion with which DW loves us.