Excitement Is Not Contentment

My little son skips when he is going nowhere.

He sings when he washes his hands.

He performs an extemporaneous opera while stacking blocks.

He is not afraid of wild animals, only the vacuum cleaner.

He plays his brother’s video games and just walks through the virtual rooms and opens the doors.

He solemnly gives his mother a dandelion.

McElligot’s Pool is not Horton Hears a Who, Daddy.

When asked his father’s full name, he gives it, but appends “Daddy” to the front of it.

It’s the broken toys he wants.

He wakes up in the same pose he went to sleep in.

He is excited to be him. I am content to be his Father.