A Departure

Nothing today about Obama or Hillary or white people or even about race---well I might mention race.

Nope today we're talking about something more positive.

My son.

I love that little sucker. He came into the world in May of last year and I'll tell y'all, shit has never been the same. That cute little poop machine has changed the whole dynamic in my marriage and greatly affected my life.

You know what my son does when he's mad? He likes to grunt really, really loudly like he's trying to pass a huge turd. I mean the veins in this cat's neck start bulging and his throat is rumbling and he's the epitome of pissed off. Lately, he's even taken to waving his arms around and intermittently yelping to get people to pay more attention to his grunting. He's like some sort of constipated dog.

But, man is that shit cute.

In recent weeks, the Little Man has learned to crawl and he's scooting all over the place in my house. Sometimes when I come in the house through the garage door I find him waiting for me at the door into the house because he crawled over there after he heard the automatic garage door open. If we take a nap together he likes to wake me up by trying eat my eyebrows or cheeks. He only has two teeth, but those suckers are sharper than knives.

My son makes me look at other children differently. In the mall or grocery store I tend to smile more at strange kids, wondering what type of little quirks they have. For most men it's a strict no-no to even acknowledge strange kids for fear of somebody hitting you with a pervert charge, but sometimes I feel like mothers can tell that I'm a parent too.

Strangely enough, these days I'm often harder on the parents of bad-ass kids than I was when I was childless. It particularly pisses me off when other parents fail to rein their kids in, not just because it invades my personal space but because I can't help wondering about the future effect on the children. However, I feel so much more empathy for single mothers because I see just how hard their jobs really are. I mean, if my wife and I are struggling despite our combined energy and resources, I can't even imagine what it's like out in this world on your own.

Some of my most peacful moments are watching my son sleep.

Some of my most stressful moments are watching my son sleep.

I love rubbing his belly with my face and making him giggle and squirm. I can't help by laugh when he responds to my determined scolding with his disarming laugh.

My son has quickly assumed the third most important position in my life behind only my God and my wife. And she better watch out because he's gunning for her spot.

Little man is a blessing.

My wife asked me the other day if I think that the world will be a better place for our son if Barack Obama becomes the President of the United States. I laughed at her naivete, and chastised her for thinking that Obama will be some sort of savior.

Secretly I hope she's right.