Greetings from our backyard.
I sit in here in one of our patio chairs, watching Parker play in his backyard with the dogs, occasionally needing to intervene to remove a leaf from his mouth (the kid hates veggies, but has no problem downing a couple fresh leaves here and there).
As I look at my laptop screen, I can see my own reflection in the glare of the sun. I look at the face staring back and think, “Wow, I sorta still look like a kid.” I’m 25 with a 1 year-old and frankly don’t look what I think a dad looks like. I feel older when I’m being Parker’s father. But when I look at myself, I still can’t believe that that guy is a dad.
Parker doesn’t know that. I’m what Daddy looks like. I’m Daddy. When I come home from work and he sees me for the first time all day, he says “Daddy” or “Da-da”. He doesn’t think I look young or not old enough to be his father. And I love that. I love that he will just always know me as his dad.
Right now, he’s out in the yard dancing. Having the time of his life in his backyard, bringing me artifacts to show, just happy to be alive.
I’m pretty lucky to be that little guy’s dad.