Today I got home early enough to learn that I have a third child! Who knew? She’s cute and perky and called me Daddertat, and asked me “why are you so bald?” a lot, so she must be mine. We spent some time getting to know each other. I’m hoping to figure out her name soon – too embarrassed to ask right now.
Apparently my second kid is actually fourteen now. I don’t know when that happened. And evidently she has boyfriends, and iPhones and unlimited texting . . . oh, and opinions. Very strong opinions which she imparted on me when I tried to get her a snack of animal crackers and milk in a sippy-cup. She affectionately pushed past me muttering something about going to a movie on Friday, blah blah blah, with mumble, mumble, mumble, so-and-so is driving, and can I have some money. So I know I mean the world to her. I know when she looks at me she sees a giant talking wallet filled with love.
I discovered that my first-born child is a senior in high school. She breezed by me confidently, without saying a word or acknowledging my existence. That is the depth of our relationship, the density of our love, that we can pass by each other like two ships in the night and know that our love for each other is stronger than gravity, the bond more tensile than the supports of the Golden Gate Bridge. Why mere words would only cheapen the moment.
I also found out that my wife has a very active social life! She was throwing a party for some of the people who have been working on the house. I guess we have been doing some improvements – the house looked the same to me when I was getting home late at night, but boy, you should see it in the day! The strapping, young, good-looking Spaniard who put in our irrigation system was there. The hunky, beefcake pool guy was there – seems only fair. Then there was the sensitive, artistic, attractive fence builder with the irresistible English accent. The fence looks great, and my wife has never been happier!
So thanks again for letting me catch up with my family. Boss, you’re the best.
Wait, that’s the painter? Wow.
Your loyal lacky