It’s breakfast time. For once, it’s actually quiet in the house and I’m able to enjoy just sitting and spending quality time with my son. It’s so much more enjoyable when he is actually eating his food and not redecorating my shirt or the couch with it. It’s been a pretty good night, but I’m not surprised that the coffee I’m drinking is unable to counteract the events of the week so far. (Note to self… try making coffee tomorrow morning with REDBULL instead of water).
Out of nowhere a flash of dark fur streaks across the family room… not that out of the ordinary for my Max, who already is just weird to the level of infinity x 3. But what happens next is what draws my concern. He begins to squat, but this time, he slowly turns his head and looks right at me… like literally… we lock eyes. Then it happens. He’s dropping a bomb on the floor and I think to myself, “I mean, he is literally staring at me and pooping on the floor.” It all happens in slow motion and when he’s finished I swear he smiled at me and laughed when he walked away.
Yet, nothing stops the little guy from enjoying his breakfast of champions. He ate the whole thing, and it didn’t result in me OR him having to change!
Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it.
Sorry Sons: Chronicles of a New Dad 