Here’s me gushing about being a Daddy. Look away if you can.

So, Isabella (the newly christened 8-year-old) was sick at school. Threw up. Blah. I picked her up, and she slept most of the afternoon in bed.

In the evening, she, mommy, and I (someone, validate my grammar) cozied up on the sofa watching a repeat of Chopped. Until, one of us started to slumber off (no, not Mommy…)

I carted Iz off to bed, and gently snuggled.

Me: Honey, are you sleepy?

Iz: Are you here, Daddy?

Me: Yes, of course.

Iz: Then I can sleep. Zzzzzz.

[Actually, the conversation was much longer, there was some tickling involved, I made fun of her butt, my belly, and yes, my butt. But, I sound much more heroic and good-looking than a reasonable person would ever judge. What’s not to love? A flawed theory, but, that’s the jist.]
Sleep is at hand.

Being the Daddy can totally suck much of the time. But, sometimes… It’s magical.

Also, Sleep. Please!