…you start caring for a small bundle of joy.
…you gladly forego your own sleeping time in order to watch the new occupant of your bed slowly settle to dreamland.
…you hate leaving home because there’s now another hand waving you goodbye.
…you visit playgrounds with just a slight yank from fragile yet convincing hands.
…you realize how hard it was then for your own father to raise you.
…you stop being the king of the remote control and that the winner is one who does not even have to speak…and it’s not even your wife.
…you shamelessly sing a nursery hymn on short notice…anytime, anywhere.
…you watch what you’re saying because a pair of tiny ears listens.
…you watch what you’re doing because little eyes are intently watching.
…you enthusiastically mount a basketball hoop in your yard…and you don’t even play the game.
…Barney, Mickey and Baby Einstein just pushed your Braveheart, Top Gun, and Saving Private Ryan DVDs deeper into the back of CD shelf.
…your Last Song Syndrome is not the latest rock music but the Alphabet song.
…you stopped hating noisy kids in the church because you’re now constantly running after one.
…you shift to buying the smaller Happy Meals…not because you’re on a diet but just because you want a toy to come with it.
…you have now mastered dealing with a formula…and it’s not math.
…you wake up at 3 AM just to blog how it is like to become a father. Happy Father’s Day to everyone!
Mood: 2/10 Honks! (Grabbed another oatmeal cookie to keep me company.)