June was my first full month as a father of two kids, and (get ready for sappy parent cliches) it was truly wonderful. My son Oliver is at the tail end of 3 1/2, and I'm watching him develop such a unique little personality. Oliver has grown into a very particular kid, with his toys always in a certain order and his bedroom door opened the same exact width every night, every time. However, he has yet to feel any fear or sense of danger, there is he is above, at the Maryland shore looking for sharks to kick.
"Daddy, are there sharks in this water?"
"Yeah, but they aren't any threat to you, you aren't in any danger."
"Can I see them? Will they get close?"
"I doubt it, they don't really come into shallow water. Why?"
"Because I want to kick one."
We came back from our shore vacation and went to the Camden aquarium, where Oliver got to see two hippos fucking.
I got to ride the frat boy fueled USA soccer craze in a local sports bar that made me feel Iowan for a couple hours.
I did this in Watch Dogs.
And I got to spend a stormy Thursday 3:30am feeding this kid while watching the rain. I have not slept in weeks, my stomach is eroding from the permanent estuary of coffee I have filled it with, and my left eyes twitches. All the time. I feel like Gimli, preparing for a long journey, defending those he loves while trudging through the Dead Marshes. He has to, the fate of Middle Earth depends on him.
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