THIS is a Father’s Day article, so forgive me if I sound extremely sentimental today.
You can’t write about fatherhood without tears welling up your eyes. I consumed 30 rolls of tissue paper before I could even start a word. So here we go.
Last Sunday morning, while all the other fathers in the world woke up feeling important and ready to bask in the limelight, I was challenging my three-month old baby to a fight. The boy accepted the challenge and fought in the best way he knew how, by screaming his baby lungs out. Like the real gentleman that I was, I refused to smack the boy’s face with a pack of diapers and fought him in the best way I knew how under the present circumstances, by screaming my aging lungs out.