I’m not a traditional father, in that I inherited my kids through my wife as they were closer to leaving for college than being born. That doesn’t mean I don’t love them and don’t want to help them out in any way I can.
I just skipped the part with poopy diapers.
I’m okay with that. Other people’s feces is not my thing, in literal fact, if not in metaphorical. In metaphorical, I feel like I’m smeared with shit all the time.
Some of it, naturally, is my own.
Anyway, pleasant thoughts on this day to celebrate the men who take care of their children, and not the ones that ran away.
Target: 600 words
Written: 203 words, novella: The Mungk