My son is four months old. Every month we take pictures. Every month things change. Every month time is either travelling too fast or too slow he’s either too loud or too quiet. I love his laugh. I love his awkward attempts to speak. I love that he tries to use his feet like hands. I love that he grabs animal toys by the eyes and chew on the feet.
He doesn’t wake up as much during the night. I still catch myself waking up, putting my hand on his chest to make sure he’s still breathing.
I want to go out and drink a bit too much sometimes after work, but I’m satisfied replaying ‘ the evil within’ after I lay him down to bed. Too often I lay him in the bouncer in front me instead of the crib, just in case. Just until my wife comes home.
My life used to feel like a romantic death wish. Now it feels strange. My wife still makes me feel powerful. I can dip my feet once in a while and still be a father. I can’t imagine it any other way. I’m still nervous. A homosexual Mormon once told me that it means That ive made the right decision.
Killian Michael wade Dror at 3 1/2 months.