Lifted from another board, but so true.
12 things I learned about being a father in 12 days:
Your nipples are useless; her nipples save the day . . . and the night
Unanswerable question: How long is it going to take to get through all these free casseroles?
Baby poo is kind of cute.
Ludicrous stuff: baby wipe heater, flimsy plastic everything, eight "D" batteries to power a swing that will never be more than - what? - 10 feet from a power outlet, 1233 photos in the first 3 days
Clothes: Ones-eez with a lot of buttons are crap. You’ll never put one of those things on correctly the first time. Or second time. By the third time, you’ve thrown them all away. Zippers or pull-overs only. Little socks are kind of cute.
The cute diapers imprinted with Winnie the Pooh? Total crap. Tabs don’t hold. Think Pampers.
You never thought this before, and it surprises you: come between me and my kid, I’ll kill you. Bare handed.
Delivery room: Blood, guts, crying, terror, and drugs. Not a rock-n-roll show, it's The Miracle Of Life.
Nothing better: snoozing on the couch while she sleeps on your chest, breathing, slightly moving her tiny fingers; then she squirms, plops her head on the other side, sighs.
Farting is still funny.
"Cute" is an okay word to use now.
By the way: You’re so very alive and you know it.
12 things I learned about being a father in 12 days:
Your nipples are useless; her nipples save the day . . . and the night
Unanswerable question: How long is it going to take to get through all these free casseroles?
Baby poo is kind of cute.
Ludicrous stuff: baby wipe heater, flimsy plastic everything, eight "D" batteries to power a swing that will never be more than - what? - 10 feet from a power outlet, 1233 photos in the first 3 days
Clothes: Ones-eez with a lot of buttons are crap. You’ll never put one of those things on correctly the first time. Or second time. By the third time, you’ve thrown them all away. Zippers or pull-overs only. Little socks are kind of cute.
The cute diapers imprinted with Winnie the Pooh? Total crap. Tabs don’t hold. Think Pampers.
You never thought this before, and it surprises you: come between me and my kid, I’ll kill you. Bare handed.
Delivery room: Blood, guts, crying, terror, and drugs. Not a rock-n-roll show, it's The Miracle Of Life.
Nothing better: snoozing on the couch while she sleeps on your chest, breathing, slightly moving her tiny fingers; then she squirms, plops her head on the other side, sighs.
Farting is still funny.
"Cute" is an okay word to use now.
By the way: You’re so very alive and you know it.