While preparing to dive into our Sunday afternoon nap by allowing Disney’s Fantasia to lure us to slumber, my 7 year old, Clara Grace, asked a wonderful out of the blue question. “Daddy, what’s it like being a parent?”
Of course my first thought was that I can’t tell her the stream of consciousness answer, the answer that first popped into my head. I can’t tell her that it's scary as hell. I can’t tell her about lamenting the things I haven't been able to provide for her. I can’t tell her about the worry that accompanies all the mistakes I have made. I can’t tell her about all the fear I have for the mistakes she will make. I can’t tell her that.
The first thing I head come out of my mouth was that it is fun. You get to be silly. You get to play again. You get to tickle. You get to learn, and you get to teach. You get to watch them grow, not just on the outside but on the inside too. You get to answer questions, questions, questions, and more questions. You get to share the things you like and the things they like. You get pull teeth. You get to see what Santa brings before anyone else. You get to help dream dreams. You get to go to all sorts of practices. You get give your children really cool nicknames like Boo, ChiefToe and HootieMuffin. But the best part, the very best part, is that you get to love.
I can tell her that. So that’s what I told her.
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