Another day has concluded and my son lays snug in his bed. My level of fatigue had peaked hours before and at this point, I’m flying solely on the anticipation of a very stiff nightcap.
My regimented mornings are initiated with a plead for strength to endure yet another round of fatherhood. As I wake my child and attempt to:
a) Change a moving target into his school clothes.
b) Spell out the various benefits of proper hygiene and why it is he must brush his teeth.
c) Get any form of sustenance down his gullet.
d) Explain (for the umpteenth time) why he cannot bring his toys to school.
e) Getting out the door without a homicidal incident.
I often ponder, who in the fuck invented parenting? And, could they have come up with a challenge with fewer variables or perhaps, one with a higher probability of actually succeeding? [Inhale. Exhale.]