My daughter recently learned how buckles work. She's absolutely fascinated by them and spends a lot of time trying to fasten them and unfasten them. On backpacks. On highchairs. Doesn't matter. Every time she sees a buckle, she has to try to snap it in place. It's a huge win for building motor skills!
She has this turtle called Bucky that has a bunch of buckles attached to him. I took him along on our trip to the park today so Sophia could play with him during the drive. It kept her busy for awhile. Alas, she still has trouble removing the buckles.
Exactly nineteen months ago we were in this same hospital, eagerly waiting to meet your sister. Today, it's your turn.
In a matter of hours you'll be in my arms. I can't wait to see your face for the first time. To hold your hand. To see your eyes.
If you ask me what I want out of life, you'll get a simple answer. But getting there has been anything but simple. I work my ass off, but there's always more to do. I try to save money, but there are always more bills to pay. I try to be the best husband and father I can be, but there's never enough time.
At some point, the world started spinning too fast. I used to be the guy who had his shit together. Now I feel lost, wandering around in the fog of my own thoughts completely directionless. I've never felt so lonely — so helpless.
The beating of your heart plays on the machine across the room. In the distance, I hear a new baby crying and I can't help but think that soon, it will be you that I'm hearing.
Your mommy's finally getting some rest. We're both very tired, but I won't complain. She has the hardest job of all, and she's been through so much just to get you here.
Much thought and experimentation has been accomplished in an effort to develop the following theory. For the sake of simplicity, I’ve converted my findings into an easy to understand mathematical formula:
The evidence is clear as day given the fact that both of the following days proceeded 2:00am bedtimes and 7:00am risings: