Dear Son, I should probably explain my awkward laughter the other day. It really wasn’t because we were losing the soccer game 9-0. And it wasn’t because you had just asked about post-game snacks for the fourth time. Honestly, I think the laughter was directed at myself – for how slow I am in learning
Icees are my white flag of surrender. In the days before parenthood, I had no idea what breed of father I would be. I knew what I wanted to be. The kind who made up elaborate games that his children would play for hours on end. The kind who explored the backyard with his kids.