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The Procedure
If you’re not familiar with our son’s story, first check out this piece I wrote for Scary Mommy: The End of Innocence
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Monday afternoon – Boston Children’s Hospital – bathroom
I rub up against my wife, Lauren, while she washes her hands.
“What are you doing?” Lauren asks.
I shrug my shoulders.
“You want to have sex in the bathroom of a children’s hospital while our son is having an eight-hour surgery?”
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The End of Innocence
Kids deserve at least ten years of complete innocence. Sometimes they’re not afforded that.
Thursday morning, 4:00 A.M.
We tiptoe into our four-year-old son, Matt’s room. We need to pick him up and transfer him asleep into the car.
“You do it. You’re better,” my wife, Lauren, whispers. This is not true. She always wins at Yeti in My Spaghetti. She just wants to be able to blame me later when he’s freaking out in the car.
Why 4:00A.M.? I’m a morning person.1<—– CLICK ON THESE RED BOXES FOR MY TERRIBLE JOKES
I carry him down the stairs and out the garage.
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We’re All Deformed
“Your arms are different.”
My five-year-old daughter, Liz, said this to my three-year-old son, Matt, recently.
Matt put his arms up together, compared them, then gave me a quizzical look like, Dad, is she right?
I gave an answer straight from the textbook, “We’re all different. Everyone is beautiful in their own way.”
“But you’re not beautiful, Daddy,” Liz said.
Fair point. 2 <—– CLICK ON THESE RED BOXES FOR MY TERRIBLE JOKES
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