my little man at 2.


U asked me to draw U a picture;

first a truck, a garbage truck,

then a fire truck.

it looked kind of funny.

U said, “can U draw me a lamp? a house? a tree? but, i’m not good with dogs.”

then U asked me to tell U a story.

i told you about an old fire truck and a fire.

but before i was through U said U found some putty and made it into a gumball and a big bubble at sam’s club.

your hands were cold.

“what happened”, U asked?

U found a toy truck under the chair.

“why did the truck run into the big trailer? why daddy? tell me why did the truck crash into the big trailer?”

by then U decided to go swimming. i helped you with your floatees.

“the right one doesn’t fit too easy”, U said

you hugged me and you were happy… your smile lit up my day…

all i could say was

“I love you more than anything (even beer).”

One thought on “my little man at 2.

  1. Sorry to overindulge but I found something that I read in Court during one of my last Custody hearings for my beautiful reason for reasons. I thought it was worth saving for posterity’s sake:

    Your Honor:

    With me my son will grow up to believe in himself and believe in our world. He’ll learn that effort comes before any success and it must be from honest effort. He’ll understand that life holds joys and grief just the same, and both have their personal price. But, the planet will keep on turning either way.

    He’ll have lots of information and hopefully like his dad, never enough. My son will be proud, but I will be more proud of him. ALWAYS. He has taught me some of life’s most important lessons when hundreds of books on every subject and thousands of hours in quiet meditation could only approach it from a cold distance.

    Some say I worship him too much, but I realize that hard and sometimes painful disappointments and life’s common drudgery could temper that enthusiasm to a degree. But, I already know that going in and I’ve proven time and again that I’m up for it. I can. I will. I must. I never quit and I don’t fail. Check my record if you have the slightest doubt.

    Fifty, you say? The perfect age for the task at hand. Beyond ignorance approaching sublime. With me, Dylan is a lucky and happy boy, but more importantly with him I am a luckier and happier man.

    I trust you will make the right call.


Comments are closed.