Minor chaos of a grad school drop-out, parenting (and cooking for) two small boys, loving one bean-counting man, dealing with hemophilia, mammoth allergies and trying to find my own feet. They're here. Somewhere.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
a day for Dad
The Man is the insufficiently sung hero of this blog, he who does most of the kid-time on shabbat, while I sink into naps and mutter about gender-oriented sabbatical definitions in the kitchen. (note: the sabbath starts, but I'm still chopping and organizing food. ahem.) He's a happy father, a delighted cuddler of small children, a veteran of umpteen trips to the park, and a perennial volunteer for kid soccer. The boys made a list (a schema, Mum!) of their father's various praises, and the Eldest copied them out. They're glued, fittingly, to the back of his title: Daddy.
Happy Father's Day, o Man. You are a wonder, a marvel, and happily for me, Imperfect.