Monday August 26th, 2019 // Just After Bedtime
I just put my little guy down for the night. He’s laying in the pack ‘n play in our room. Tossing and turning every 30-60 seconds. He’ll eventually stop and fall asleep in the next ten minutes. At least that’s how it normally goes.
We’re over nine weeks into him being with us. It’s flown. The time goes by so damn fast.
This evening I was walking Peyt, our almost 11-year-old mutt. There was a dad playing wiffle ball with his approximately 5-year-old son out in the neighborhood field. They were laughing and having what looked to be the most magical of evenings for a father and son to have.
I dream of those evenings with my kiddo. Playing catch with my child has been like the vision of fatherhood I’ve had in my head my entire life. I have so many cherished memories of playing catch with my dad. Of playing wiffle ball in the backyard and running around our tiny makeshift baseball field dodging the apples that had fallen from our apple tree.
I hope that dad on my walk today knows how lucky he was to have that evening with his son. I’m sure he does.
On my walk back to the house I thought about my son. About how I’d do anything in the world to protect him. So in a few years we can play ball. So we can have that same evening that father and son had today.
But as I sit here watching him drift off to sleep through the baby monitor, the days of wiffle ball can wait. Right now I’m in love with all the baby things I never knew about. About his laughs when I wipe his mouth with the burp cloth. About how he will still fall asleep on my chest when he’s tired. About how it feels like him, the dog, my wife and I are one. One family.
I know kids grow up. They talk back. Throw tantrums. Skip school. Wreck cars. Stay out past curfew. But I’m not there yet. I’m just here watching my kid fall asleep through a baby monitor. Thinking about playing baseball with him one day. I can’t wait. And I can wait.
– Josh // for some reason an emotional wreck