I love having a kid, so probably not pointed at me. I loved coaching him and his buddies as they played their first year of basketball. I love playing the rogue like he’s into. I love showing him how to train his body, how math can be awesome and fun, how characters in books can teach us about ourselves. I love teaching him how to clean the bathroom and that our family only works because we all work for each other. I hope I fill his day with love and acceptance and hope he can move himself even when times are rough. I hope he and I are friends when he’s thirty and I’ve given him a strong mind to find a place in this harsh world. I hope he finds friends that get him beyond what he does and loves all the nooks and crannies that make us lovelably human. I hope he is strong to stand up for himself and his values. And, if he has some left over, for those not as well off as him. I hope that I can give him some of this. I hope his life is filled with beauty and joy and so much more.

And fuck… I am tired. But at least on Wednesday nights I get to roll some dice with some friends.