I’m officially a father.

This isn’t a new revelation in the biological sense. That part I knew. Anytime someone compliments one of the kids, I silently pat myself on the back and think “I made that with my balls.”

I’m talking about the fatherhood mentality. I realized I started saying the kind of shit my father would repeat that made him sound like he was slowly going insane.

“How does someone so small sound like a herd of elephants coming down the stairs?”
“Why the hell is there so much toothpaste in the sink?”
“… no, just… don’t do that– god damnit, where is your mother?”

What prompted this epiphany was me going downstairs to grab coffee before a meeting. No one is home. The car is still in the garage, but Meg and Austin aren’t here. The shovel is still in the garage too, so I can largely rule out that she finally snapped and is trying to hide the boy’s body.

The lights were on. Everywhere. Both sets of lights in the kitchen, the family room, and even the damn powder room. The TV was on. Hell, even one of Austin’s light up trucks was on. It’s like there was an alien abduction in broad daylight.

And my first reaction was “What the hell, don’t they realize electricity costs money?”.

That sort of thought is basically one step away from black socks and flip flops while mowing the lawn.

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