Son

I've been home with Seren before. So that part won't be too new. This son thing, though ... I have never yearned for a son. I am not one of those guys desperately in search of a boy to play catch with. My daughter throws just as hard as their sons ... actually harder. She will play basketball ... I mean if she wants to she will. And I buy her match box cars. I always figured that all a son could do that a daughter couldn't was get into a father-son argument, and my dad is still going strong at 68 & 3/4 so (hopefully) that is covered for some time to come. I'll be honest, I wanted another girl. Wanted. See here is what happened. Most Fridays have been daddy days, right from the moment I took my new and soon to be old job. And for eight months daddy days have included my son. Except it hasn't been my son, the one I pictured with the baseball mit and fishing rod and semi-automatic pistol and openly rooted against. I've been spending Fridays with Seren and Wyeth. And Wyeth is a hoot. He does smile a little too much, but so does his mother and I love her. I love her even though she doesn't flail and smile at me when she first sees me after I return home from work like he does. He never stops moving, and now he actually moves ... and grabs and sucks on everything in sight. And tries to pull up. He wants to stand up. I think that is why he didn't crawl sooner. He wanted to walk first, but he has the grace and balance that he was genetically predisposed to have, so he decided to crawl for now. I crawl with him. Right on top. And he loves it. And so do I. And everyone buys him clothes that are blue, green, and red and have basketballs on them. Baseballs too, but I can overlook that. Seren has a princess shirt. She likes looking in the mirror with me too. Seren and Wyeth. Wyeth and Seren. It couldn't really have been any other way, which I know regardless of what I say. And Seren will yell at me too. Again. I've been home with her before.